Friend Making
Chapter 2: Friend Making
Regulus woke up to a dull thud and the most air-chilling string of curses he’s ever heard.
He peaked out of the curtain and was blinded by the sun, his eyes landing on a raven-haired boy who was lying face down on the floor and rolling around in pain. There was a pile of books haphazardly placed next to Evan’s bed that seemed suspect of the fall, especially with how Evan kicked them away with insults Regulus couldn’t create in his wildest dreams.
Regulus blinked at him.
The boy looked up and met his eyes, blinking back.
“Are you-” Regulus cleared his throat, “are you alright?”
“Oh, god,” the boy said, his face red and still on the floor. “God, ‘m fine, I’m fine.”
“What happened?”
The boy's face turned even redder as he tried to sit up, clutching his knee. “Just- I just tried to fucking walk across the floor- it-”
“It’s okay,” Regulus murmured, crawling onto the floor next to him and removing his hand gently. His knee was already turning ugly shades of black and blue with a bright red gash of blood across from it. Regulus let out a low whistle and ghosted his hand around it, reaching for the edge of his sheets.
“You don’t have to fix it,” the boy said, his eyes glistening. “I- I can-”
“You can be quiet,” Regulus told him softly. “It’s no trouble.”
The boy nodded and leaned back on his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m Eric Nott by the way, you’re Regulus, right?”
Regulus nodded and offered a small smile to him, wiping off the blood and pouring a still-cold glass of his knee. Eric hissed lightly through his teeth and Regulus rubbed small circles on his ankle instinctively, more out of habit than anything else.
“Hold still,” he said, holding his hand over Eric’s knee and closing his eyes. A shock of heat transferred from his palm to Eric’s knee and Eric yelped, scrambling back. Regulus held him down.
“What the fuck was that?” Eric asked, his eyes wide. “That’s crazy, man, how did you do that?”
Regulus removed his hand and looked down where there was a small pink crescent scar surrounded by fading bruises. He smiled up at Eric and met his shocked face, frowning slightly. “I just learned it, what’s wrong? I should’ve warned you it would be sort of hot-”
“You’re a cool dude,” Eric said, interrupting him with a smile. “Want to go get breakfast? No one else is awake.”
Regulus furrowed his eyebrows and nodded, standing up and cracking his back. “Do you know how to get there?”
“Nope.” Eric popped his p and jumped up, a silver cross hanging loose around his neck as he shook out his hair. Regulus wondered why he even had it, most families didn’t believe in a God. It was ridiculous. “We’ll figure it out, let's go.”
Regulus threw on a pair of green flannel pajama pants and a pair of sneakers, racing after Eric who was bouncing in the doorway. They both cut through the hallway, dumping out of the same marble archway and into the common room.
Eric and Regulus both slowed down as they walked into the common room, the morning sun shining through the water and tossing around rainbows like Narcissa had promised. Regulus could see the shipwreck more clearly now and it seemed to shimmer from within, forgotten gold still in the bottom.
“This place is awesome,” Eric whispered, walking up to the glass. “This year is going to be awesome.”
Regulus nodded wordlessly and heard a gentle cooing sound from behind him, knowing it was Narcissa.
“My baby,” she said, her voice rough with disuse. “Good morning, my baby.”
“Morning, Cissa.” Regulus stood on his tiptoes and allowed her to press a kiss into his curls.
“Who is this? Did you make a new friend?” She regarded Eric with a certain sort of intensity, searching over him with her eyes and an unimpressed look. She seemed caught on his cross necklace and red boxers, as he was still wearing no pants. She wrinkled her nose and looked at Regulus.
Eric eagerly pitched himself forward to grab her hand and press a kiss to it, listening to her tinkling laugh. “I’m Eric,” he said, still holding her hand. “Eric Nott, ma’am, it’s a pleasure.”
“Oh, yes.” Narcissa exchanged a look with Regulus, looking faintly amused. “Well, where are you two off to?”
He nodded and bounced on the ball of his feet, holding her hand tightly. “We’re going to breakfast, Regulus and me. You’re his cousin, right? You want to come to breakfast? Let’s go to breakfast, miss, you look like you’re starving.”
Regulus glowered at him and Narcissa tried to tug her hand back, a fake smile stuck on her face. “I’m not hungry, love.”
“She’s not hungry,” Regulus reiterated, his arms crossed. “Eric, you can drop her hand now.”
Eric was staring up at her with wonder struck eyes, his lips parted. He didn’t let go of his hand.
“Eric,” Regulus hissed, tapping his foot. Lucius was walking into the room, his sneakers dull against the floor and his face unimpressed. “Eric, if you don’t-”
“What do we have here?” Lucius asked, tugging Narcissa back from Eric and wrapping an arm around her. “Good morning, darling.”
“Morning,” Narcissa said lightly, pressing a kiss to his bicep. Lucius was frowning at Eric, his eyes skating between him and Regulus. Narcissa smiled again, and asked, “Would you like to tell me what you’re mad about?”
Lucius gave Eric a look that would’ve had him dead on the spot if he were slightly more aware of anything around him. “I’m not mad about anything, my love. Why don’t we go back to my room?”
Narcissa allowed herself to be tugged away and blew a kiss at Regulus, giggling as Lucius grabbed her by her waist and made a muffled sound into her collarbone.
Eric watched her go with stars in his eyes and turned to Regulus once she turned the corner, his mouth curled up in the corners. “Dude,” he said, his eyes blown wide. “Your cousin is fucking smoking.”
Regulus turned on a heel and walked through the marble archway, glowering as Eric raced after him. They made their way to the Great Hall in what should have been a dull silence, but Eric’s insistent chatter made it impossible for Regulus to enjoy his morning.
Regulus poured himself a cup of tea and breathed in the musky scent, still listening to Eric’s voice grate his ears. He was sort of like Sirius, only in that way, because neither boy liked to shut up.
At least Sirius had something interesting to offer.
“And, I heard from my mum, right, that his aunt was working with her ex-fiance to create a potion to cure hair loss. It was terribly messy, I don’t know if the potion ever got completed-”
Regulus drowned Eric out and briefly considered eating a piece of toast, ultimately deciding against it at the risk of vomiting it all up from his nerves. They didn’t have classes until the following Monday, it was still only Thursday. Four days to explore the castle, scout out his classes, and create a spell that will silence Eric Nott forever.
Finally, Eric exchanged chatting for shoving food into his mouth as Regulus mixed his second tea. He crossed his legs and braced his elbows on the hard wooden table, watching through narrowed eyes as his brother and one other boy walked into the dining hall.
Sirius looked like he didn’t sleep last night, he was still in the red Gryffindor shirt that cut off a bit too short so you could see part of his stomach. A pair of pajama pants and just socks, he looked more comfortable than he would’ve at the Black’s breakfast table. How insulting.
The boy next to him had dark, golden skin and unruly curly brown hair, it sticking up in all directions. He was gorgeous, and Regulus recognized him as James Potter. His family were purebloods, not of the sacred as they had immigrated from Columbia just a few generations ago. Still, he was loaded and just as beautiful of any of the sacred 28, if not more so.
With his silver wire-framed circular glasses and his wide grin, he knocked shoulders with Sirius as they both dissolved into absolute hysterics over some sort of joke he said. It was probably awful, Regulus noted with a foul taste in his mouth, as he continued to down his second tea. Sirius caught his eye from across the room and raised his hand in a nonchalant greeting, hardly even looking at him.
Regulus swallowed down his anxiety and pointedly ignored him, watching with shaking hands as James put together a plate of beans on toast with loads of tomatoes and set it in front of Sirius, insisting he eat. Revolting.
Regulus and Eric sat in a tense silence until Regulus’ ears pricked with the sound of his name, swiveling his head.
“Regulus,” Evan was shouting, striding toward him. “I can’t believe you ditched us!”Evan had a lanky boy with sandy blonde hair and a bashful smile on his face trailing behind him, extending his hand in a timid greeting.
“I’m Barty,” the boy said, curling his lips into a smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Regulus inclined his head and shook his hand, his face carefully blank. “Pleasure. I’m Regulus Black.” He promptly turned back to the table and finished the rest of his tea, sitting with his back as straight as possible. Barty looked bewildered and a bit hurt, jumping over the table with Evan to sit across from Regulus and Eric.
“Eric Nott,” Eric said excitedly, shaking the two boy’s hands. “You’re Evan Rosier, right?”
Regulus rolled his eyes at Eric restating the obvious, studying Evan as he loaded his plate with scrambled eggs and beans on toast. “Did you sleep well?” He asked Evan stiffly.
Eric shook his head, shoveling food into his mouth at a frightening speed. “No, I couldn’t sleep. The mattresses are too hard here, I feel like I’m sleeping on solid concrete.”
Regulus cracked a smile and shrugged, knowing he had slept on the hardest of stone and the softest of mattresses. The ones here weren't too bad. “I’m sure there’s something you could do to change it,” he told him, studying Barty carefully.
Barty was sitting on his hands with a single glass of ice water on the wooden table in front of him, his head swiveling from person to person with the conversation. Regulus thought to himself the similarities he bore to his father, the Minister, Barty Crouch Senior.
It couldn’t hurt to have a friend who’s father is the minister, could it? He figured if he was in a situation and needed a quick and quiet bail out, the minister himself had to be the way to go. Regulus put on his best politics smile and rested his chin on his palm, lazily blinking at Barty.
“Aren’t you the minister’s son?” Regulus asked quietly, knowing Eric and Evan were engaged in a passionate back and forth. “Barty Crouch, yeah?”
Barty’s face seemed to darken with the comment as he scowled into his water. His brow furrowed as he looked at Regulus as though he were mentally challenged, squinting slightly. “Yes,” he told him stiffly. “It’s quite fucking obvious with the name, don’t you think?”
Regulus blinked at the abruptness, startling back. Barty immediately looked horrified as his face heated and he slapped a hand over his mouth.
“I’m sorry,” Barty said, sounding as horrified as he looked. “Oh, that was so-”
Regulus interrupted him with laughter, feeling his face redden with each heave. “Don’t worry about it,” Regulus gasped, his cheeks red. “Oh, god, you’re okay. I was not expecting that.”
Barty’s face was still flaming as he reached across the table to clutch Regulus’ hand, shaking with his own laughter. “I had no reason to act like that-”
“It was a redundant question,” Regulus pointed out, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “It is rather obvious through the name.”
They eased into a comfortable silence, Barty making a piece of toast and cutting it into two triangles, handing one to Regulus. “What’s your name?” Barty asked, watching Regulus politely swallow a piece of toast.
“Regulus Black.”
Barty swallowed over half his piece of toast and licked his fingers clean, Regulus very deliberately not wrinkling his nose at his disgustingness. “What are you doing today?” Barty asked again, gulping down tea.
Regulus shrugged, leaning both elbows onto the table in a silent act of rebellion, and smiled his most charming smile at Barty. “I don’t have much planned,” he said, pushing a curl behind his ear and watching Barty track the movement with his eyes.
“Well, I have a lot planned, so you’re with me.” Barty loudly pushed away from the table and strutted out of the hall, Regulus scrambling behind him.
“Where are we going?” Regulus asked, all but running after him. He breathlessly turned back to wave at a bewildered Evan, offering him a shrug and pointing sheepishly at Barty. Him and Barty tumbled into the stone hallway and to the front of the Slytherin common room.
The two stared at each other and then at the snake, shrugging their shoulders.
“Erm,” Barty said finally, squinting slightly. “What’s the password again? It was your cousin, mate.”
Regulus stepped forward and bowed to the snake, his cheeks burning. “Hello,” he murmured, watching the snake lazily blink at him. “Erm, draconic car, if you will.”
The snake nodded slightly and slithered down through the gaping hole, Barty releasing a disbelieving sigh at the magic. “It’s so lovely,” he said, marching through the doorway. “My mum wanted me to be in Ravenclaw, you know, thought it was the best place for my mind to advance.”
Regulus followed him and watched Barty intently, the way he shook out his hair and walked around the dorm with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. He had never seen anyone that was so quietly unsure of himself but existed so loudly, as if he was baring his insecurities to the world so that he was in charge of when they were seen.
“Why a Ravenclaw?” Regulus asked finally, pulling on a pair of jeans. “Wasn’t your dad a Slytherin too?”
Barty made a fart noise. “Merlin, pops was a Slytherin, but he’s going to be beside himself when he figures out I’m one.”
“In a bad way?” Barty stopped for a moment, standing over him as Regulus laced up his boots, and as he blinked up to Barty his stomach moved in a way that was completely foreign. They stayed put, staring at one another for an extended moment, until Barty finally offered his hand out timidly to help Regulus to his feet.
“Dad thinks Slytherins are evil,” Barty said softly, him and Regulus standing toe to toe in the small dormitory.
“Do you think that too?”
Barty smiled sharply and leaned towards Regulus’ ear, as if his secrets were a currency only Regulus was worthy of. “The only evil people are those who pride themselves on being perfect,” he whispered. “Slytherins aren’t evil, we’re just smarter than everyone else.” He pulled back and tapped his temple, offering him the same grin and turning on a heel. “My dad’s convinced he’s perfect, I humbly disagree.”
“Minister Crouch?” Regulus asked, stumbling after Barty. “He’s a decent man, I think-”
Barty turned sharply. “Have you ever met him outside of ministry events?”
“Well, no.”
“Decent is not an adjective my father is worthy of,” Barty hissed.
Regulus placed a gentle hand on Barty’s arm, feeling the muscle flex and finally relax. He met Regulus’ eyes sheepishly and Regulus spoke softly, similar to how he’d speak to Sirius when he was having an episode. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I obviously do not know what I’m speaking of.”
Barty chewed thoughtfully on his cheek, his eyes flicking down to where Regulus’ hand was placed on his bicep and back up to his eyes. “Forgive me,” he said breathlessly. “That was… inappropriate.”
“You’re alright.” Regulus smiled warmly and watched Barty’s face flicker through an assortment of emotions Regulus couldn’t understand. “Show me your class list,” he told Barty softly, pulling back his hand. “Let’s see what we have the same.”
Barty produced the rolled parchment from the back pocket of his jeans and presented it to Regulus like it was something much grander, bowing slightly. “The list of mysteries,” he said, looking up with a grin.
“Well, thank you,” Regulus murmured, laughing at Barty’s dejected expression. “Oh, come on, let’s go introduce ourselves to the potions professor.”
-
“I’m actually frightened to start my classes.”
Regulus lifted himself up with an elbow and blinked at Evan who had thrown himself across Regulus’ bed and was now pouting rather profusely, his arm covering his eyes.
“Don’t be nervous,” Regulus told him, sitting up with great effort and stretching. “We’re all going to be quite alright, I think. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”
Evan opened his mouth and then closed it, studying Regulus intensely. “Do you know where Barty’s gone?” He asked finally. “I’m worried he’s going to be late on the first day and all of the professors will hate him for it.”
“I’m sure they’ll hate him for a variety of reasons, his tardiness is just one of them.” Regulus stood up and tugged Evan to his feet, padding across the room to inspect his hair. “He’s at breakfast, but I’m not hungry.”
“I’ll stay with you.” Evan sighed and rubbed his eyes, standing shoulder to shoulder with Regulus in the mirror space. “You have potions with me, right? First thing?”
Regulus nodded and Evan cast his eyes down, shaking out his tight curls and tightening his tie around his neck. The green and gold really did suit his dark skin, Regulus thought, and his eyes seemed to sparkle when he looked at Regulus.
“Kenneth?” Evan called out, walking over to his bed and knocking on one of the four posts. Kenneth was their fifth roommate, the only one left in the room, as Barty presumably had to take Eric with him to breakfast. Regulus’ heart went out to Barty, it really did, he had done everything in his power to ensure that Eric and him would never have a conversation for the next seven years.
“What?” Kenneth’s dejected voice called from inside the curtains, and Regulus heard him turn in bed. The poor boy hadn’t come out in days, not since the second night when they all officially met, and Regulus was pretty sure he’d been crying into his pillow at least once.
He presumed that Kenneth was just sad to be in Slytherin, that’s all. Typically those who weren’t of Slytherin descent were rather dejected when sorted, it was the most misunderstood house. Most parents weren’t too happy to see their precious babies sorted with all of the evils, and most of those precious children failed to understand that they were now one of the evils that they so avidly detested.
Thinking about it has commonly made Regulus audibly scoff and roll his eyes, his mind still stuck on the presumed evilness of his house. If Kenneth didn’t want to be a Slytherin, don’t force him to be, that was his philosophy. Regulus was happy to let Kenneth be mopey and depressed for the next seven years, it was none of his business. He just hoped that Kenneth would soon discover a silencing spell, his weeping had kept Regulus up the other night.
“Come on, mate, let’s go.” Evan was still trying to coax Kenneth out of his shell, sitting criss cross next to his bed and inviting Kenneth to dinners and meetings in the common room. “You’ve got potions with us, we don’t want to be late.”
“I don’t really want to go,” Kenneth called softly, and Regulus audibly scoffed. Evan shot him a look and stood up, dusting off his trousers.
“I’m opening up the curtains now,” Evan told him. “So put your dick away if needed.”
Regulus snorted and immediately covered his mouth, embarrassed by the noise. Evan ripped open the curtain and Kenneth moved to sit criss-cross and rubbed his eyes. “Up you go, mate, come on.” Evan held out a hand and Kenneth tentatively took it, standing up. He was already in his school robes, though they were a bit wrinkled.
“Brush your hair and meet us in the common room in five,” Evan told him, turning back to Regulus and jerking his head. They walked out of the room and into the hall, it was eerily silent and Regulus could hear two boys arguing a few rooms down. The first years started earlier than every other grade, so no one was up yet.
“You need to be nicer to him,” Evan said softly, his knees pulled up to his chest on the leather couch. “He’s trying his best.”
Regulus rolled his eyes. “He’s being ridiculous. You can’t just not feel like going to the first day of classes.”
“He’s worried his family is going to dislike him when they find out he was sorted into Slytherin,” Evan furrowed his brow, looking distinctly upset. “I’m worried about him.”
“That’s his problem.” Regulus tiredly leaned back and rubbed his eyes. “Don’t baby him, Evan, he’s going to need to deal with it sooner or later.”
“Regulus,” Evan said softly.
“And why are we expected to take care of him, just because he hates us he’s allowed to be all mopey? It doesn’t make sense, if he just got up and tried to-”
“Regulus, stop it. You’re being mean.”
Regulus blinked at him and Evan held his gaze, his eyes slightly fiery. “There is something wrong,” Evan insisted. “People don’t just act like this, alright? He’s- he’s struggling, or something, don’t be mean to him.”
“I’m not being mean.”
“You are,” Evan said. “You are, and if my older sister could hear you right now, she’d beat you, because he is a perfectly nice guy and you’re being mean.”
Regulus sat back and promptly shut his mouth, casting his eyes to the floor and hearing Evan’s strained sigh. He stared at the floor and reflected on his behavior, something entirely uncommon for him, unless something horrifically embarrassing had happened and Regulus needed to determine whether he should cut all contact with the individual.
He wished Kreacher were here to help him sort it out, help clarify the line between honest and mean. It had never been cut for him, and he simply didn’t understand it. He understood when Narcissa spoke of cruelty, or when his father yelled of disrespect and Sirius murmured of innocence, but he didn’t understand mean.
Regulus needed a book on it, so that he could avoid being mean. Evan had seemed so disappointed in him, like he was a puppy that had acted up and needed to be cleaned up after. He wished he could go back and study what he said, where it was dishonest or where it could be interpreted as awful. Are cruelty and meanness the same thing?
Regulus took a breath and studied his hands, blinking slowly. “I’m… sorry,” he said suddenly, furrowing his brow at Evan. “I wasn’t trying to be mean, I promise, I just-”
“It’s okay, Reg.”
“No one ever told me,” he rushed, tapping his foot on the ground. “If that helps any, I was never told.”
Evan looked distinctly confused, and Regulus wished the floor would shatter beneath him so that he could plunge into the lake and avoid this conversation altogether. However, he refused to have one of his only friends think so lowly of him, not when it was all he had.
“Told you… what?” Evan asked carefully.
“What it means to be mean, they never told me, so if I am mean, just know I’m not trying to be.”
Evan studied him carefully and must have found that Regulus was being entirely truthful, because he cracked a small smile and placed a hand on his shoulder. “That’s okay,” he said softly. “Kenneth is here, let’s get to class.”
Kenneth joined the group with a quiet sort of awkwardness that deeply unsettled Regulus, but he forced himself to swallow it down and smile politely at Kenneth in an unspoken offer of friendship, something Kenneth seemingly accepted by smiling back.
“Potions day one here we come!” Evan cheerfully started to the door, his hair bouncing with each step. Regulus took a deep breath and held it in his lungs, letting it go as he followed suit.
It was just potions, he was sure it would be fine.
-
Everything was awful. Class hadn’t even started yet, and it was awful.
Barty had caught them in the hallway and pitched himself at Regulus, probably happy to get rid of Eric’s company. He wormed between him and Evan, grinning widely and gesturing toward Kenneth with an off-hand “look who finally got out of bed!”
Evan glowered at him, shooting a look to Regulus who shrugged helplessly, following Barty blindly. They were led into some sort of dungeon, despite the staircases swinging wildly and almost separating their small group, and Regulus was forced into some tiny seat next to Barty.
Regulus cast a look behind him, seeing Evan twirl his wand with a bored look on his face and a silent Kenneth beside him. He felt bad, for leaving Evan, he didn’t want Evan to think he was trying to be mean. It was two to a table, that was all, and he was hopelessly endeared by Barty’s nonchalance and sharp smile.
“Do you think Evan is mad at us?” Regulus asked, digging his nail into the soft wood of the table. “I don’t want him to think I’m trying to exclude him, you know? I don’t want him to think we’re mean.”
Barty looked at him incredulously, furrowing his eyebrows. “Mean? Why on earth would Evan think we were mean for sitting together?”
If Regulus was not presented with a clear definition of this word soon, he’d bang his head on the table. “I don’t know,” he said, smiling slightly. “That is sort of ridiculous.”
Barty laughed and started to say something but was cut off by the heavy wooden door banging open and Professor Slughorn, a short and pudgy man with pale skin and billowing robes, came barreling in.
Slughorn took a second to compose himself in front of the silent class of blinking and confused first years, straightening his tie and small, funny looking hat with a ribbon. He looked up and met Regulus’ eye, smiling widely and flicking his gaze away.
“Welcome,” he called out, his voice warbly, “to the first potions class of your lives!”
The professor held his hands up in the air as though expecting thunderous applause, and when no one delivered it he looked terribly disappointed. “Terribly sorry for my lateness,” Slughorn said, bustling over to his desk. The room was brightly lit with candles in every corner and a lamp in the center of each table, and Regulus was glad for the lack of overhead lighting. It always washed him out.
“This is potions 101 for first years.” Slughorn absently flicked his hand at a chalkboard and the white chalk picked itself up and wrote the letters out on the board, cocking for their next instruction. “It is a first year class, if anyone is not supposed to be in the first year class, please, there is the door.”
Everyone looked around at each other, daring someone to confess their status as an incredibly confused second year and leave the room. When no one did Slughorn cleared his throat and walked around the desk with a think roll of parchment, clicking his tongue.
“Now, who here had older siblings that might have been in my class?” Slughorn scanned the room, only a few people raised their hands, not including Regulus, and he smiled slightly. “Well, it’s always nice to see some familiar faces and last names. Roll call, please, just shout out a present and let me mark your name.”
Slughorn flourished his wand and the parchment began to float in the air beside him as he walked around, calling out a few names before he stopped at Regulus’ desk and peered at him over the top of his glasses.
“Black, Regulus,” Slughorn said, squinting at him.
“Present,” Regulus murmured, feeling heavily scrutinized by Slughorn’s judgemental gaze.
“Do you have an older brother, Mr. Black?” Slughorn was tapping his foot, looking displeased.
Regulus cringed at the question. “Erm, yes, sir. I do.”
“Right. I had your brother last year, Sirius, it is?”
Regulus looked at the floor, ashamed for being related to his brother and knowing that he probably ruined Regulus’ chances of Slughorn ever liking him. “Yes, Sirius, I’m sorry, sir.”
“You’re sorry?” Slughorn asked, letting out a shocked laugh. “What in the heavens are you sorry for, child?”
“My brother being in your class?” Regulus looked at Slughorn questioningly.
Slughorn laughed loudly and Barty jumped in his seat, clutching onto the table and letting out a heavy sigh. “Good heavens, child, they weren’t exaggerating when they told me of your wit!”
Regulus cracked a small, unsure smile and allowed Slughorn to move on, bellowing out names of frightened first years and stopping at more than one desk to interrogate them, similar to how he had with Regulus.
When he finally finished his roll call and his enjoyment with tormenting poor children had ceased, he drew himself up tall in front of the class and leveled his gaze with a spectacular sort of empty-headedness that could only be achieved by a man of his responsibility and position.
“Who can tell me,” he began, sweeping across the room. The chalk began to write on the board again, its handwriting slanted. “What would I get if I infused ground up campanula to the essence of mugworts?”
The class fell dead silent and Regulus looked over to Barty wildly, trying to determine if he had missed an important summer reading. This question was stuff out of his nightmares, he wouldn’t be surprised if he looked down to see he’s forgotten his trousers and is out in only his underwear as well.
“No one?” Slughorn asked, walking around the room. “Not a single soul can answer me?”
Regulus swallowed down a deep knot of fear and shook his head, feeling distinctly ashamed at not knowing what is obviously such a basic question.
Finally, after a few minutes of suffering silence, Slughorn began to laugh loudly and strode over to his desk, picking up a small vial and uncorking it. “Heavens, if you could see your faces, I scared you all senseless! Of course no one knows the answer, if you did I’d be forced to award your house one hundred points!”
Slughorn flicked the glass vial and produced a small cauldron, lighting a fire under it and letting it warm up. “The essence of mugworts is a highly explosive substance, to the untrained potion master it can be deadly.” The professor flicked the substance into the cauldron and an indigo smoke poured out, burning Regulus’ nose.
“The campulna neutralizes it, but the smoke continues, turning a thick lilac.” Slughorn took ground of brown leaves and rubbed them in his palms, dropping them into the cauldron and turning his back to pick up the chalk. True to his word, the smoke turned the most beautiful purple color Regulus had ever seen, and when he looked up Slughorn had written in huge, arching letters, HALLUCINATIONS.
“Merlin,” Barty murmured, tipping back in his chair. He already looked bored. Regulus turned back to Slughorn with wander struck eyes, watching eagerly as he gestured to the potion and collected the smoke in one massive tornado-like whirl and cast it into a jar.
The jar clinked as Slughorn set it harshly on the desk and the smoke continued to swirl in the small space, gaining more and more speed.
“Hallucinations,” Slughorn began in his booming and drawling voice, “are just one of the many things that a seasoned potion master can accomplish by the consumption of the substance or fumes.”
Regulus marked that down on a roll of parchment, eagerly looking up to Slughorn’s wise eyes.
“Other notable side effects of potions can include drowsiness, giddyness, torture, love, and, of course, death.”
Regulus marked that down as well.
“Open your textbooks to page 16,” Slughorn said, tossing his chalk behind his back and having it caught by an invisible force. “We’re going to be studying the importance of potions on wizarding medicine and lifestyles. Pay attention! There will be a homework assignment about this.”
Barty groaned dramatically and Regulus elbowed his ribs, cocking his quill with a certain sort of eagerness that only a first year could accomplish.
-
“I’m so fucking tired,” Barty groaned, resting his forehead on the hardened wood table and not picking it back up.
Regulus absently pat his shoulder and furrowed his brow at the heavy book he’d been lugging around, studying the beginning of potions and how it was actually created by females- how mothers and wives had gone into the forest and collected the different leaves and berries in the pocket of their skirts to heal their children’s illnesses and fix wounds their husbands acquired.
Before Regulus could stop him Barty had grabbed the book and yanked it out of his hands, setting it down on the table with a dull thud and staring at him flatly.
“I-” Regulus spluttered, reaching for it. “Merlin, Barty, what is your problem?”
“You’re on page 27,” Barty told him tiredly. “And I’m tired of reading Regulus. I want fun Regulus. Come out and play.” Barty poked his ribs and Regulus laughed lightly, resting his chin on his palm and looking up at him.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” The two boys stared at each other for a moment and Regulus blushed, looking down to pick at a chipped part of the dining table. They were at lunch and Evan was nowhere to be found, probably hiding away in an alcove with Kenneth, the bastard. Barty and Regulus had succeeded in forcing down a dinner roll each and weren’t too keen on much more than that, instead trading off making one another tea.
“Did you like charms?” Barty asked, gazing lazily at Regulus as he squeezed a lemon into his tea. Regulus bit his lip in concentration and looked up to meet Barty’s eyes, laughing slightly.
“As much as one can like a slow and torturous death, I guess. Did you?”
“No. Absolutely not.” Barty snatched the tea out of his hands and took a gulp, ignoring Regulus’ exasperated sigh and instead wiggling his eyebrows.
Charms was not as bad as Regulus made it seem, he actually rather enjoyed it. However, the charms professor was a short and funny looking man who blatantly favored the Ravenclaws above any other house. Regulus was in class with the other house, a group of know-it-alls that more often than not had glasses and a bad case of I’ll die a virgin, according to Barty.
Regulus soon learned that the teacher’s name was Professor Flitwick and the favoritism rooted from being their Head of House, similar to how Slughorn was the Slytherin’s. However, where Slytherins were full of tact and charm and Slughorn’s voice dragged in the ends and seemed to sink in the center, Ravenclaws were full of montone reciting of words and sheer genius and Flitwick’s voice went up at the ends in a high pitch.
Flitwick had squinted at Regulus from beneath his circular glasses and told him that his brother was simply a genius when it came to charms and that he sincerely hoped that Regulus shared said genius and it was such a shame how they were sorted into two separate houses and he hoped that they’d remain close.
Regulus smiled and explained he had no doubts about his and his brother’s friendship and swallowed down the seething hatred for his charms teacher that climbed up the back of his throat and burned his tongue. The rest of the class passed in a blur of wand movements and Barty’s sharp laugh in his left ear.
“You’re thinking again.”
Barty’s bored voice cut through his line of thought and shocked him back into the Great Hall, a bacon butty waiting on the table and his new best friend’s pointed smile next to him.
“Sorry,” Regulus murmured, rubbing his eyes. “I’m just so-”
“Tired? Me too. I absolutely couldn’t sleep last night, not with fucking Kenneth sobbing into his pillow all night.” Barty rolled his eyes and stuffed half the bacon butty into his mouth, offering the other half to Regulus who took it after a second of hesitation.
“Thank you,” Regulus said quietly. “Do you know where we’re going after this? What other classes do we have?”
“Transfiguration.” Barty burped into his hand and rolled his eyes again, something that hes picked up quite a bit. Regulus found himself doing it every time he thought of his brother. Barty slid back from the table with a loud screeching of the bench and clapped Regulus’ shoulder tiredly. “Come on, man, let’s go.”
-
“Alright, let’s settle down, shall we?”
The transfiguration professor leveled the room with a tired gaze and everyone instantly found a seat on hard wooden benches, stacking in quickly. This class was shared with the Hufflepuffs, the kind ones of the castle, and was on the smaller side. Regulus suspected it was because of the difficulty of the class, just from the mental pressure alone.
“My name is Professor McGonnogall, how are we doing today?” McGonnogall flicked her hand carelessly, the name chalking on the board behind her. “Today, we wil-”
“We’re good!” A Hufflepuff told her, beaming. “How are you doing, professor? Alright?”
Regulus looked at the boy sideways, hearing Barty scoff into his palm and look down at the table. McGonnogall pinched her brows and took a deep pause. Regulus had heard about how Hufflepuffs were supposed to be kind and care about feelings and talk incessantly about them, but he didn’t believe that they were truly that unbearable to be around.
Guess he was wrong.
“I’m… well, thank you.” McGonnogall paused again, like she couldn’t believe her chosen career, and continued. “Welcome to your first day of transfiguration, you young ladies and gentlemen. I believe that this will be a very informational course for mature, upstanding individuals.” The professor walked through the room, her heavy boots clicking on the stone tiles and her barely lined face looking kindly at Regulus’.
“This course is intended to be a challenge of the highest degree within the castle, but one who wishes to exceed shall, it will just take however much work the student is willing to put in.” McGonnogall put her hands behind her back and continued to walk, her back straight as a board. “You will receive the marks you wish with the work it requires.”
“Merlin,” Barty hissed into his palms, rocking his head. “I-”
“Mr. Bartimus Crouch,” McGonnogall rapped her wand against the table and Barty’s head shot up, his eyes afraid. “Jr. Do tell me, what is transfiguration to you?”
“Is this a joke?” Barty demanded. Regulus hid his face in two hands. “Transfiguration doesn’t have a specific definition to each person, am I correct, professor?”
Regulus desperately wished he wasn’t sitting so close to his friend. As he moved as far away as possible he made the mistake of meeting the professor’s eye. “Mr. Black!” She rapped her wand against the desk once more and Regulus’ cheeks flamed as he clutched his curls with one hand. “Do tell me,” she said, her tone angry, “what does transfiguration mean to you?”
Regulus blinked at the swirling grain of the hard table. What is transfiguration to him? Evil, his brain whispered, invading him completely. It represents the evils of the world and the blatant manipulation that could occur within a home.
“Erm,” Regulus said, his hands shaking. “Transfiguration is simply manipulation, professor, of objects into other objects that are better suited to one’s liking.” He cringed at the sloppiness of the answer, nearly expecting McGonnogall to slap him across the face, but when he shakily met her eyes they creased with a smile.
“Correct,” she said finally, beaming at him. “Oh, Mr. Black, you are as bright as your relatives! Five points to Slytherin for the spectacular answer.” She turned away, her robes sweeping behind her, and threw a careless: “you’re lucky your friend was present, Mr. Crouch, or I’d be forced to take away points for your snark. Do not let it happen again.”
Barty rolled his eyes and tipped back with a practiced sort of grace, pointedly looking away from the professor. “I can’t wait for this to end,” he seethed, his voice low in Regulus’ ear.
Regulus wished he could say the same, but he was so intrigued by the mastering of this supposedly evil art that he wanted to stay in this class forever so that he may someday outwit his own father in the spells that were hurled around his home.
“Everyone unroll a foot of parchment, please,” McGonnogall said, standing next to the blackboard with a piece of white chalk in her hands. “We will be writing about the origins of transfiguration and the building blocks of each spell. What is not finished in class today will be homework, so let’s partner up and get to work!”
Regulus heard Barty grumble angrily beside him, slamming the textbook on the table and spilling a pot of ink in the process. Regulus set a distracted hand on his shoulder and dug his thumb between the knot of muscle, warning him to shut up or Regulus would kill him.
The class passed relatively quickly, Regulus’ tidy handwriting against Barty’s distracted scrawl, an argument halfway through about the ethics of transfiguring living things (Barty was a ruthless, evil monster, Regulus decided. He didn’t even consider that animals may have feelings.).
Towards the end McGonnogall had paused over Regulus’ shoulder to read his paper, her mouth set firmly but her eyes sparkling. Regulus’ heart picked up as he acted as though he didn’t know her, but she set a warm hand on his shoulder in a wordless statement of approval, and Regulus decided that Gryffindors couldn’t be all bad if that was their leader.
He was proven wrong relatively quickly.
Him, Evan, and Barty walked shoulder to shoulder down the stone hallway, shoving past people and redirecting the flow of traffic completely. Barty was in the middle, his movements large and his voice loud as he told everyone a story from this summer where he had bravely fought off a creature from the forest in his backyard (it was a lie), and that he had to kindly reject the neighbor’s sixteen year old daughter who fell to his feet and begged for marriage (another lie).
Despite the ridiculousness of his story Regulus laughed along with Evan, hiding his smile behind one of his hands. The three of them pushed out and onto the great lawn, striding (Barty strutted) to the Quidditch pitch where a no-nonsense woman was standing with two hands on her hips and a whistle around her neck.
“Pair up!” The woman called, waving her arms around in the air. Her wand was sticking carelessly out of her back pocket, something that Regulus was deeply concerned about, but when she leveled the group with a no-nonsense glare.
The group was a mix of emerald green and blood red, Gryffindors and Slytherins, who all hate one another. Why the school encouraged the two houses to sail around on wooden sticks that encourage not only beating but other forms of cruel entertainment was beyond Regulus.
“I said,” the woman shouted, looking absolutely pissed with her career, “to partner up! Now!”
The loud chatter from the Gryffindors eventually faded and each person found someone to stand with, Barty and Regulus knocking shoulders.
“Merlin,” Barty hissed, covering his eyes with his pale hand. “It’s bright, is this child torture?”
“No,” Regulus told him, feeling extremely skeptical of this entire flying class business. “No, it’s just a mandatory class, which might be worse.”
Barty snorted and ducked his head, leaning in to whisper against the pink shell of Regulus’ ear. “Do you want to just make a run for it? She won’t be able to catch both of us, you know.”
“She could bind one of us,” Regulus said. “She could flying tackle you.”
“Sorry, can you imagine me getting tackled on a Quidditch pitch?”
Regulus laughed into Barty’s shoulder, muffling it against the black fabric that was warmed in the sun. “You-”
“Boys!”
Regulus and Barty snapped their heads up to the woman, their eyes wide.
“Boys,” the coach said again, snapping her fingers in front of their faces. “Do you care to share what you’re giggling about with the class? Tell us what’s so funny.”
Regulus let out a weak “sorry”, digging his toes into the wet mud as his ears turned red.
Barty, however, did not offer the coach an apology, let alone any sort of display of regret, and instead curled his lips into a sneer and shifted his weight to one hip.
“You know,” Barty began, and Regulus hid his face in his hands. “Maybe we wouldn't feel the need to begin talking if you allowed us to actually learn how to fly instead of going on about the history of it.”
The coach stuck her whistle in her mouth and blew it loudly, turning on a heel and striding through the crowd. “We have a volunteer!” She hollered, holding out an old looking broom that was shaking with its magic. “The minister's son! Do I have a second?”
Barty’s face twisted into something that would’ve gotten Regulus beat had he been a child at those words: the minister’s son. Regulus bravely stepped forward with his friend, knowing that if Barty got humiliated he’d rather Regulus be with him, but the coach pushed her wand against his chest.
“Not you,” she said, bearing an awfully close resemblance to Regulus’ mother when she was upset. “No, I need a Gryfinndor, anyone? Let’s mix the two houses.”
Regulus blew out a sigh and locked eyes with Barty, shrugging helplessly. Barty rolled his eyes and made a hand movement like he was jerking off, smiling at Regulus’ amused face. Barty couldn’t get embarrassed, not really, he didn’t believe in it.
Finally, a scared looking girl with frizzy brown curls and poorly maintained eyebrows stepped out of the crowd, toying with the edge of her tie.
“Erm-” she murmured, looking around until she found the coach. “I can be his partner, coach.” She flashed a hopeful smile at Barty, digging the toe of her shoe into the ground, and Barty looked at Regulus and laughed.
“That’s very kind of you,” the coach said. “Alright, up and at them!”
Barty gracefully swung his leg over the handle of the broom and kicked off, hovering a few feet above the ground. He flew in lazy circles, the broom trying to nose dive to the ground every few seconds, but Barty kept it afloat with a sort of elegance only he could manage.
The girl, however, flinched every time sparks flew out of the end of her broom as she wobbled helplessly on it. “Erm,” she said again, something that severely grated Regulus’ nerves. He hated the words um and erm. “Can you- can you help me? Please?”
She smiled hopefully at Barty again, who rolled his eyes once more and scoffed, flying over to where Regulus had found Evan in the crowd and was staring in awe.
“Merlin,” Barty hissed, flying in tight circles around the two of them. The coach was trying to help the girl get on her broom, and by the sounds of it someone’s hair had just been lit on fire. “I already have a broom,” Barty continued, finally stopping his dizzying circles. “Let’s just go, we don’t need this class.”
Regulus looked around to the mass of Gryfinndors and Slytherins, some who were arguing loudly and several who were trying and failing to mount their glitching brooms.
“Won’t we get in trouble?” Regulus asked, nervously toying with his hair. “I mean- won’t she be angry with us?”
“Who cares?” Evan shrugged out of his robes and folded them neatly over his arms, rolling out his shoulders. “Let’s just go, Barty, you’ve got to let me ride the broom, man.”
“What are they going to do?” Barty asked, smirking as he jumped off of the broom and let it fly across the pitch, causing someone to scream. “They won’t expel us, you know. No one will want to bother my father with telling him. Come on, I’ll race you.”
Barty stuck out his hand and smiled widely at Regulus, who glanced back at the class, where the coach was shouting at someone to come back from where they were lodged firmly in a tree.
They wouldn’t get in much trouble, right? What’s the worst that could happen?
Regulus took Barty’s hand and the three boys went racing across the grass, laughing breathlessly at the recklessness and not once looking back at the disaster they had left behind them.
–
The worst punishment the school could conjure up was detention, apparently, and as Regulus scrubbed the tiles of a girls' lavatory on the fifth floor, he decided that he would never skip class again, no matter the circumstance.
He wiped his brow with his forearm and rolled up the sleeves to the jumper he had worn despite “detention” being a bout of manual labor for children. He was just glad the school hadn’t threatened to write to his parents.
It was Regulus’ second day of classes and he was already completely mentally and physically exhausted, but the scrubbing of all the bathrooms on the fifth floor seemed like quite a stretch for skipping flying class. It wasn’t even one of his OWL’s.
He had homework to do as well. Couldn’t he have just explained that he had learned his lesson quite well and the school was doing an exceptional job torturing him? He never had to scrub anything before this, let alone a bathroom he wasn’t allowed to use.
The first class of the morning had been Barty’s absolute favorite: Defense Against the Dark Arts. The professor was an ancient looking woman with black hair and soulless eyes. She had begun class by rapping her wand against the blackboard and glaring at the students until everyone quieted down, the whites of her eyes milky.
She deeply unsettled Regulus.
Barty, however, had loved her and her class. The professor’s name was Merrythought, and when she revealed that it was her last year on the job and she was soon retiring, Regulus worried that Barty was going to bash his head in on the brick wall and never return to school again.
It was a quite simple class, they had learned the most basic protection spells (a shield and how to eject an enemy’s wand from their hands). Barty had chattered excitedly about the class over lunch, about how it was hands-on and not from a book and, most importantly, not a massive pain in the ass.
Regulus thought it was fine. He preferred a “History of Magic”, taught by a man who looked about one night of rest away from never waking again. He had droned on about the syllabus for the class, something that wasn’t offered by any of the other teachers, and how there would be at least two tests a month.
With a lot of textbooks and memorization, Regulus had to submit a roll of parchment on Thursday about the history of Goblins and Wizards. He was rather excited, he had always loved reading history, and he had bounced in his chair the entire class.
Barty shamelessly slept through the lecture.
Evan’s favorite had been astronomy, taught by a man with dark skin and kind eyes. He had an accent that wasn’t quite british or scottish, but a nice mix of the two, and when the three boys had walked into his room a record was spinning.
The class wasn’t difficult, it was mostly interpretation, but the teacher had lazily pointed at him and asked if he was another one of them Blacks.
Regulus nodded, frightened, but the teacher had just smiled and asked for his name.
“Regulus,” he told him, his hands shaking.
“Alright,” the teacher said, nodding. His hair was braided and pulled back into a twisted sort of bun, big glasses on the top of his nose. “I’m Professor Metcliff, but you can just call me Cliff.”
Regulus blinked. He would not be calling this man “Cliff”, no matter how hard he pushed it. What an idiotic nickname. Professor Metcliff spun lazily in his chair and flicked his wand, casting the night sky into the air. After manipulating the screen a bit he enlarged a single star, smiling at Regulus.
“This is you,” he told him. “Regulus. You’re part of the Leo Constellation, and your star traditionally stands for ‘little king’.”
Regulus squinted at the star,
“Here’s your brother,” the professor said as he swiped through the air and to a star quite a ways away from Regulus’. “Sirius, yeah? He’s the brightest star in the sky. One day it’ll explode into a red star, but that’s in a separate unit. He’s not close to the rest of your cousins even remotely.”
Regulus looked over at the man cautiously, then offered him a small smile. “Interesting,” Regulus said, Barty at his shoulder. “Thank you, professor.”
“Hey, anything for my favorite family of stars. Tell Narcissa I said hi.” The professor winked at him before standing up and clapping his hands.
Regulus had decided that the class was a bit too relaxed for his taste, a stark contrast to that of History of Magic, but the room smelled heavily of incense that reminded him of his mother, so he let it pass. He was missing her quite terribly.
After that was Herbology, a quiet class in a room that was warm and reeked of soil. Kenneth had seemed overjoyed, though, and had even snuck a plant to put into their dorm’s window. Another thing his mother would have loved. Regulus needed to write her a letter.
And, now, he was here. Scrubbing floors with a small sponge in detention during the first week of school. The only consultation was that Barty was only a floor away, doing the same thing, and Evan was a floor below.
Regulus blew air out of his mouth and picked up the dirty water bucket, his back aching, and moved on to the bathroom next door. It was his last one, he had moved through relatively fast, but it was the gentlemen’s bathroom. It had to be much more disgusting than the women’s.
As Regulus kicked open the door he discovered he was correct and the floor was littered with toilet paper and concerning puddles. He knelt down and sighed, collecting the toilet paper with his gloved hands and discarding them. There was an alarming amount of it.
As he scrubbed he allowed his thoughts to wander, most specifically to the boy that Sirius was hanging around this past week. He had dark, tan skin and a mess of curls that stuck up in every direction. Regulus briefly wondered if he owned a hairbrush but decided he didn’t care, it worked for him.
Through sleuthing a bit, he and Barty had discovered that the boy’s name was James Potter and he was a pure-blood whose family immigrated from Columbia a generation ago. Where Sirius was loud and outspoken, a stark contrast to how he was at home, James was quieter but more confident. His hips swayed as he walked and he smiled at every girl in the hallways, leaning his elbows on the teacher's desks and asking how their children were by name.
Regulus wasn’t sure if he should hate him yet or not.
As if his mind was being read the door swung open and Sirius staggered in, barely glancing at Regulus, who froze as though he had been caught breaking a rule.
When Sirius finally turned a bit and caught Regulus from the corner of his eye his mouth quirked up but his eyes remained the same, something that Regulus could read like it was his first language. Disappointment.
“What the hell are you doing?” Sirius asked, walking over to Regulus and kneeling beside him.
“Detention,” Regulus murmured, his cheeks flaming red. Sirius wordlessly took one of the sponges from the bucket and rang it out, scrubbing the tile alongside Regulus.
“No shit?” Sirius wrinkled his nose but continued to clean, cuffing Regulus’ shoulder. “What’d you do, kid? You get caught snogging a girl on your first day?”
Regulus laughed weakly, confused as to why Sirius was even speaking with him so casually. Why had he ignored him so openly if he wasn’t angry with him? The question was driving Regulus positively mad, causing him to turn over again and again in his bed before sleep and roll it around his mind.
Sirius must not be mad, and this was his way of saying sorry for acting like a dick. That had to be the reason he was here, now.
“I- I was skipping flying,” Regulus confessed, his cheeks still red. “But, it wasn’t just me, I swear! I was with two other boys-”
“Your two friends?” Sirius looked up and smiled, wiping his hand on his trouser before ruffling Regulus’ hair. “One of them is that boy, the minister’s son, yeah?”
Regulus nodded and Sirius looked at the ground, his smile still biting.
“The minister’s son and… and that colored kid, yeah? What’s his name?”
“Evan,” Regulus said quietly. “Evan Rosier.”
“You have friends?” Sirius asked earnestly. “They’re your true, honest to god friends? You’re not lying, are you?”
Why would he be lying? “Of course they’re my real friends,” Regulus said. “I wouldn’t lie about that.”
“No, I know you wouldn’t, I’m sorry.” Sirius shook his head and wrung out his sponge, scooting to the left to continue on the floor. “I just- come on, kid, making friends was never easy for you.”
“Because you were my friend,” Regulus said, his eyes burning. He was so confused. He didn’t understand why Sirius couldn’t talk to him around his stupid friends but could scrub the bathroom floor. Sirius was always so quick to assume half of his punishment but never the cause of it.
“I- yeah. I know.” Sirius avoided his eyes and instead made the cleanest circle on the floor, looking ashamed. “You understand, though, don’t you? Why I had to let you go on your own?”
Regulus was just about to let the tears fall down his face and collapse into his big brother’s arms to scream that no, he didn’t fucking understand, and it was ridiculously unfair and that he missed him loads.
But, instead, the door kicked open and Sirius was up in a flash, tossing the sponge into the bucket and crossing to the sinks.
“Hey,” a boy said breathlessly. “There you are! Come on, mate, we’ve got to go.”
The boy finally came into frame and it was James Potter, in all of his messy haired glory. He seized Sirius’ arm before casting a look over to Regulus who was bravely fighting back tears and still scrubbing circles on the floor.
“Oh, is that your brother?” James asked, his eyes bright. “Hey, I’m James!” He stuck out a hand and Regulus just stared at it, knowing that his pale cheeks were giving away every bit of embarrassment in his bones.
“Yeah, that’s him, let’s go,” Sirius said urgently. “Come on, we don’t want to keep Remus waiting-”
“Well, what are you doing?” James asked, staring down at Regulus who was still kneeling on the stone.
“He got detention.” Sirius tried to tug James’ shoulder away.
“Do you need help?” James asked again, rather kindly, and Regulus was just about to say yes when Sirius tugged James out of the conversation.
“No,” Sirius said, a bit too loudly. “No, he was just about to be finished, said he’d rather be left alone. Let’s go, mate, later, Reggie!”
The door slammed shut and Regulus just stared at it, finally allowing the tears to leak out of his eyes and down his cheeks, collecting in the corner of his lips in a sort of salty nightmare.
He was so confused as to why Sirius was seemingly upset with him but not, why he so earnestly asked about his friends but rejected James’ obvious offer to friendship.
Regulus sniffled pathetically and looked back down at the floor. He spent an embarrassing long period of time in the bathroom, working on the one particular space Sirius had done, as if scrubbing the stone would erase Sirius’ treatment toward him.
xxx