Nova

Sometimes Regulus missed his long hair. It had taken him a few weeks to get used to not tucking it behind his ears or blowing it from his face. Even now, he wished he could still run his fingers through it.

He missed the warmth that came with it, his exposed ears turning red from the cold as he sat on top of the wooden table on the terrace. The hood he'd pulled deep into face helped, but there was always a sense of exposure he'd never felt before he'd buzzed everything off.

He'd done so in a fit of anger right after moving in with Sirius and the others. Walburga had always wanted it neat and trimmed. Sirius had tried to tell him how great it would look long. He'd almost lost it when James had asked him what it was he wanted. When he'd seen the razor in the bathroom, he hadn't wasted a second.

Leaning back he took another drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke curl from his lips. The door opened behind him, but he didn't turn. A tall figure stepped beside him. All taught muscles and stringy lines.

"Fag?" Remus asked quietly.

Regulus hated giving out things. It felt to much like a favour. But out of them all Remus was the most tolerable.

He opened his box and held it to Remus, watching him as he lit a cigarette and curled his hands around it, protecting it from the wind.

"They worry about you, you know."

That's what he liked about Remus. He didn't pry. Didn't ask him how he felt only to be disappointed when he couldn't answer.

Regulus gave a little huff. He knew they worried. He'd worry too if it was anyone but himself. Sitting outside in the cold, smoking for hours, not talking to a soul. Yeah, he was well aware that didn't exactly scream 'healthy and thriving'. It didn't matter though. He didn't care. Sometimes he even tried to. But he just didn't.

He'd be out of here soon anyway. His eighteenth lay a few weeks away and he was just awaiting the money that Walburga had promised him would come with it. Then he could escape. Find his people. Rebuild, run, anything.

Maybe he should tell Sirius. Maybe they'd go together. He almost barked out a laugh at the thought.

Sirius, who was inside, laughing with Peter that whiny bitch and James, who at this point was probably more his brother than Regulus had ever been. God how he hated them all.

Yeah no, Sirius wasn't leaving. And Regulus wasn't even sure he wanted him to.

They were different now. Sirius didn't understand that yet, still clinging onto him, as if he could be saved, as if there was any salvation for Regulus Black. As if he wanted to be helped.

"I'm a half-breed you know," Remus said suddenly and Regulus swallowed, forcing his eyes to stay forward.

"You don't hate me." It was a statement not a question and Regulus couldn't bring himself to deny it, to counter it as he should.

Remus huffed, then stepped forward towards the bannister's and flicked the butt of his cigarette over and turned around.

In the flickering light pooling out from inside the house Remus scars looked harsh and prominent. They ran all across his face, over his neck down to his collarbone and Regulus wondered for a brief moment if they dragged over his torso and all over his body.

Then he had to clench his fists to suppress the impulse to slap himself. He wasn't supposed to think about half-breeds or mudbloods. Zo think about the body of a male half-breed ... Walburga would have had him skinned alive.

It took some effort but he managed to get his hands to stop shaking, his tongue pressing into his right cheek, trying to get the numbness out. He knew it would probably never subside, but it soothed him in a strange way.

He wondered if it would always be like that. If the only thing he'd ever feel if he thought about a man would be the sting of his own hand or if at some point the desired effect would take place and he would start thinking about women.

Walburga had always been a fabulous witch, but that curse had been particularly clever.

He still didn't know why, but one day she had called both brothers down, placing them in chairs opposing each other.

"Legilimens," she'd whispered, staring at Sirius, who'd stared right back. Regulus was twelve. He didn't understand what was happening. Why they were staring at each other for ages, but at some point his  mother had hissed, pointing her wand at his brother, "just you wait," she'd said, "eventually I break every single one."

And then she'd stepped to Regulus. And then she'd said that word again. And then Sirius had said something, something about closing off his mind. And then he couldn't hear his brothers voice anymore because it got drowned out by Walpurga's screech.

They'd been sent up to their rooms then. Sirius not leaving his side until Walpurga walzed back in, pointed her wand at Regulus and told him through clenched teeth, "we'll get the homo, out of you, don't you worry."

At first nothing had happened, nothing was changed but then the next day he felt a sharp sting on his face while they were playing with their neighbour, Barty.

Sirius had laughed at first, had thought it a joke. That he slapped himself to be funny, but when Regulus cheek grew red, when it got so swollen he couldn't chew properly anymore, Sirius understood.

He yelled at their parents for hours, shook the house with his screams, but Walpurga just cackled and Orion explained calmly that this would help Regulus get rid of his improper thoughts.

It had taken three and a half months for Sirius to find a way to counter the curse. All the while Regulus could barely look at a boy or a man without his hand shooting up, his cheek tainted permanently black and blue.

Sometimes he'd jolt up at night, pain and shock in his bones, the curse doing its duty even while he slept. He didn't sleep very well nowadays.

After Sirius had broken the spell he'd drilled it into Regulus that it had to stay a secret. He'd still have to slap himself from time to time, and shield his thoughts. All. The. Time.

It was something he still did, shield, even when no one was around. His right cheek carried no marks anymore but there was this numbness that would probably never go away. And yet, he still thought about men.

Remus was watching him carefully. He always had the air of a predator, even though Regulus had never seen him in his wolf form, had never know that man to show an ounce of violence, there was a promise of it in the way Remus moved. In his fluid motions, in his amber gaze, in the way he cocked his head just now.

"I'm not scared of you," Regulus said.

Remus nodded. His eyes burning the black night.

"What are you scared of then, Regulus?"

"Nothing," he jotted out his chin, daring the other to laugh, to contradict, like everyone always did.

But Remus just looked at him.

It was supposed to be uncomfortable. To make him talk maybe. To make him go inside. To make him do something, anything.

But Regulus was used to uncomfortable. Had grown up in it. Swam in it. Drowned in it. He didn't back down.

Only when Remus stepped away did he light another cigarette, his gaze once again trained on the night in front of him.

"He's not gonna give up you know, not this time."

"Yeah well," Regulus made sure to let his voice be cruel and distant, "you can tell Sirius to fuck off. You can't just run and hide when things are though and then come back into someone's life when it's convenient."

Remus was quiet for a while.

"Maybe I wasn't talking about Sirius."