Friends?
Christmas Break 1975
Remus
Hope gives him a tight hug as soon as he steps onto the platform, Lyall squeezing his shoulder right after. He might be embarrassed by the display of affection in front of all his school mates, if James wasn’t loudly ranting to his own parents about how much he’d missed them, alternating between repeatedly hugging them each.
Mr. and Mrs. Potter usher the Lupins over, stepping out of the way to chat for a bit. Fleamont extends the usual invitation for Remus to stay a few days over the holiday, while Lyall gives the usual excuses as to why he can’t. They’ve got too many family members to visit, too much work to do around the house, they’d rather spend as much time with their son as possible before he goes back to school in two weeks. Remus hopes that the last excuse isn’t as much of a lie as the other two.
Hope and Euphemia converse lightly about the numerous letters they’ve received so far about their boys’ shenanigans over the term, while James looks troubled, staring into the distance. Remus follows his gaze and finds Sirius and Regulus on the other end of the platform, following their family house elf to the exit, walking stiffly, an awkward gap between them.
After several minutes Lyall announces that his family has a long afternoon ahead of them, and guides Remus away with a firm hand on his shoulder. It’s not necessarily an awful treatment, and Remus knows that it’s a fairly standard fatherly gesture, but it reminds him too much of being on a leash for him to feel any affection.
The Lupins live in a quaint little cottage on the very outskirts of a tiny village where barely a hundred other people reside. It’s a muggle area by the seaside, and most houses are empty at least nine months out of the year, used only as vacation homes. Hope had inherited it from her grandfather, who lived here in his last years and knew that he would pass before he could see her marry Lyall, so it had been a pre-wedding gift of sorts.
The couple had intended to use it only for weekend vacations themselves every now and then, previously living in a larger home closer to the ministry for Lyall’s work.
Once Remus had been bitten, the privacy and the cellar provided by the little cottage had been ideal. They could no longer stay in a crowded neighborhood, nor so close to other wizards, and they no longer would need the extra space for more children that they could never have.
Hope had told Remus all of this just before he’d gone to Hogwarts, figuring that he was old enough by then to have real answers to his questions. For only so much longer would he have bought the answers like ‘we like it out here’ or ‘you’re all we need’ to his asking ‘why do we live in a muggle village?’ or ‘the other kids out here have brothers and sisters, why don’t I?’
Lyall starts to say something the moment they’re in the door, the cottage too small for an entryway, opening right into the kitchen. Hope swats at his arm and tells him to give Remus a moment to settle in, so he goes quiet, and Remus drags his trunk through the attached living room and up the stairs to the attic that had been fixed into a bedroom.
He doesn’t mind the arrangement. He has more space and privacy than he would’ve if he’d had the single bedroom downstairs and his parents had up here. His books and other knickknacks have been tidied up, by his mother no doubt, but she knows not to mess with the lose papers strewn about his desk. He checks them anyway, just in case. They’re still piled about I the same organized chaos that he left them in.
Remus spends the next hour or so refreshing his memory on the research, adding a few papers with notes from his trunk, and working on making more as he reads through the book he borrowed from the school’s library. He makes a note to ask his dad to take him to Diagon Alley sometime over the holiday to buy his own copy, as it’s proven itself to be quite useful.
After a while Lyall comes up the stairs to tell him to come down for dinner, so he does and the three of them cram around the ancient, too-small table that’s against one wall of the kitchen since they don’t have a dining room. It’s got this awful peeling dandelion yellow paint covering the wood surface that Hope thought matched the light pink and green handprints along the walls and cabinets from when Remus was six or so (she swears she’d left him alone for only five minutes. Lyall reminds her any time it comes up that any kid can do a lot of damage with five minutes, even when they don’t have magic. She then sticks her tongue out at him). It’s no matter to either of his parents, really. His dad insists it gives the house character anyway, and his mum, a very sentimental person, would never allow it to be painted over. Hence, the now matching table.
Remus likes the cramped home, with it’s odd goose patterned wallpaper in the living room and mismatched furniture and creaky floorboard and the bathroom door that doesn’t shut unless you pull it up and push in with all your weight at the same time. His favorite quirk of the cozy little cottage is the slanted hallway ceiling that Lyall’s always had to stoop down to walk through. Remus just grew tall enough to have to do the same over the last summer. His father could no doubt afford a bigger and nicer house somewhere else in the countryside, but none of them would want to leave this place. Remus could do without the cellar, though.
They eat in silence for a few minutes, neither of his parents wanting to bother Remus the day after a full moon and a long train ride home, so he speaks first.
“James is getting Lily a cat for her birthday,” he says, because he doesn’t really have anything else new to talk about. He doesn’t figure his dad would be too thrilled to hear that he’s been spending time with Regulus Black. He already doesn’t approve of Sirius, who he’s met and who Remus constantly tells him hates everything his family stands for.
“Oh?” Hope smiles. “Are they finally going out, then?”
“He wishes,” Remus snorts. “No, but she’s finally letting him be her friend, which he won’t shut up about. Anyway, she was talking about wanting to get a cat, but her parents can’t afford to adopt one. I guess his mum wrote to him that a stray had a litter that’s been hanging around their garden or something so James is gonna bring one back for her. It’ll be a bit early, but her birthday is at the end of January.”
“She’ll have to say yes to a date now.” Lyall jokes. “Hard to find a bloke that’s s thoughtful these days.”
Remus rolls his eyes. “She doesn’t quite like him that much still. He gave up trying to get her to go out with him last year after she asked him to stop asking her out all the time until he could be a proper gentleman about it.”
Hope nearly chokes on her bite of food at that. “I do like that girl. She’s got character.”
“Yeah, she’s great. Anyway, James is just so happy she’s finally letting him be her friend that he’s even stopped being a prat to me about her being my friend.”
“Anything else new?” Lyall asks.
Remus shrugs. “Not really.”
There’s some more silence, then Lyall clears his throat. “Poppy mentioned that the full moons seem to be easier this year.”
Remus resists the urge to roll his eyes, then fights a grin when he notices his mum doing exactly that very dramatically, probably trying to keep the mood light. “Yeah,” he says.
“You just don’t seem any better off today than you usually are.”
Remus takes another bite, using the time it takes to chew to come up with some answer that’s not ‘well, you see, all my mates are illegal animagi that join me for the moons now, but last night they were all late because we were stupid and got detention that I just got let out of early so the wolf was rather pissed at them.’
“Just stress, probably. End of term exams. They’ll probably get easier again until O.W.L.s and then get shitty again then.”
His dad seems to take this as an okay answer, not bothering to scold him for his language- he gets it from his mum.
“Well, speaking of James and Lily,” Hope tactfully steers the conversation back in a more positive direction. Remus isn’t sure he likes the glint in her eye when she sets her fork down and folds her hands on the table to give him all her attention. He likes the warning look that Lyall shoots her way, which she ignores, even less. “Any other romances in your friend group lately?”
No. He definitely doesn’t like this. He groans internally and decides to play dumb.
“Pete’s working himself up to ask his one Ravenclaw girl out to Hogsmeade. Nicole. Sirius hasn’t gone out with anyone since Mary broke up with him and he gets testy when dating comes up. I’d think he’s still bitter about it, but it was on good terms, and they seem to get along better now than they did as boyfriend and girlfriend. I don’t know. Sirius is Sirius.”
“Mary? That’s Lily’s friend?”
He nods.
“She seeing anyone else since then?”
“I don’t think so.” Please don’t say what I know you’re thinking.
“What about the other girl in your year? You friends with her?”
Remus looks to Lyall, hoping to be saved from this conversation, but his dad is looking down, eyebrows drawn together in his usual troubled expression that he wears when he’s worrying about Remus’ future. Remus wishes he didn’t know the look so well. He really wishes he didn’t know why it was making an appearance now. He knows he’s shit out of luck in the romance department, unless he meets and falls for another werewolf, which his dad no doubt thinks is less than ideal.
“Rumor is Marlene fancies some Slytherin bloke,” he replies. “Sirius gives her shit for it all the time cause once she fumbled her bat during Quidditch practice when the Slytherin team came onto the pitch. See, she’d just been saying earlier that she thinks the uniforms make the players look real hot or whatever. Anyway, someone else on Gryffindor’s team noticed her staring over at the others and asked Sirius if it was his brother that Marls fancies- he’s on the Slytherin team- and Sirius nearly had a proper crisis about it. Marls said it’s not Regulus, though.”
“Well.” Remus waits for Hope to continue, but she doesn’t, and for a moment he thinks he’s gotten out of the conversation. Until, “any other girls you’re friends with?”
He outright groans at that, wishing for the first time that their table was bigger so he could dramatically slam his head down on it without smashing his face into one of their plates.
“I’m just trying to ask if you’ve had any interest in dating,” she says defensively. “There’s nothing wrong with that-”
“Hope.” Lyall finally jumps to Remus’ aid.
“Well, there’s not! He’s nearly sixteen and all his friends have had crushes at least, if not partners.”
“But that’s-”
“Lyall, don’t you dare say that it’s different.” His parents stare each other down for a moment until his dad settles on a different answer.
“He’s too young, in any case.”
“He’s nearly sixteen,” she repeats.
“He’s not even sixteen,” Lyall deadpans. “Not to mention that he’s in the second most important year of school and has more important things to worry about than girls.”
Remus wants desperately to shrink in his chair until he no longer exists.
It’s the middle of the night, but Remus is wide awake despite having been up the entire previous night. He’s going down to the kitchen for a drink when he hears voices from his parents’ room. It’s quiet enough in the house that he can make out their conversation with his inhuman sense of hearing.
“It is different for him, you know that.” Lyall sighs deeply
Hope sniffles. “It shouldn’t be.”
“But it is. It’s not fair, but it’s true. You know it. I know it. He knows it. I’m worried that you bringing things like that up will get his hopes up.”
“He deserves to be happy. He shouldn’t have to be alone his whole life just because he’s-” she chokes on whatever she was going to say. Sick? A monster? Remus knows his mum doesn’t know how to refer to his condition. Anything that describes it is either not quite right, or too horrible.
“I know. He’s our boy, and he deserves so much better than the hand he’s been dealt.” He’s not sure what to make of Lyall’s tone. He’s never heard his dad sound so sad. He’s heard him angry, frustrated, downright pissed, talking about Remus being a werewolf. He’s never heard him sad. “But he’s not normal, no matter how much we wish he could be,” Lyall continues. “And it’s not realistic to think he could ever have a healthy relationship. No human would ever really think of him as an equal, and being with another werewolf would double the prejudice he faced and the danger he was in.”
“It’s not even his fault,” Hope says, something angry shifting in her voice now. Accusatory. She goes on, too quiet.
Remus shifts his weight with the intention of going farther downstairs to hear better, and the stair under his foot creaks loudly. His parents go silent, and he rushes up the stairs as quickly as he can without making another sound. He hears his dad on the stairs a moment later, and dives under the covers, pretending to be asleep. After several seconds during which he knows Lyall is listening for him, the steps retreat.
He’s at his desk again, days later, when Lyall comes upstairs. He doesn’t have a door, as the stairs lead straight into his room, but Lyall knocks in the floor and waits several steps from the top for Remus to wave him in.
“Still on that?” He comes up behind Remus, looking over the ever-growing pile of research. He picks up the book Remus brought from school. “What’s this one about?”
Of course, Lyall knows that everything on the desk is about werewolves in one way or another, as he’s read through most of it, even helped with some of it, so Remus has to be specific.
“It’s an autobiography. It’s really great, about a witch with Lycanthropy who lost her kids after her attack when her husband left and took them away. She went through a really tough time, but then found an eight-year-old that had been abandoned wandering around alleyways after being bitten himself. She took him in and over the next several years started running what was essentially a group home for abandoned werewolf kids. Not exactly a legal facility, but it’s not like people cared any more about the kids than they did any adult werewolf, so the ministry left her alone about it.
She raised twelve kids over the next twenty years, but then one of them broke free during a full and killed someone so the ministry was forced to shut it down after that. All the kids were thrown into shitty orphanages and locked up in cells during the fulls. Most of them died from illness or starvation or self-inflicted injuries after transformations because none of the adults in charge of their care then actually did care.
She served seven years in Azkaban for no real reason and almost died several times over herself, but when she was released, she wrote this book. Never got to publish it, and it’s technically unfinished cause she died after just the rough draft was finished. The eight-year-old boy she took in first- he was in his thirties at that point- found it when he was going through her things. He’d been taking care of her before she died. It took him six years to get the book published and there’s a note by the publisher at the end stating that he was targeted and killed by some humans less than a year after it was released.”
Lyall is quiet for a long time and Remus half expects him to go on a rant, but all he says is, “that’s ‘great’?”
“Well, the book is great. The story isn’t. It’s awful, actually, obviously, but yeah. It’s great what she did and it’s great that the book is out there. Not great that the guy got killed for it.”
Lyall ponders that for a while, flipping through the pages of the book.
“I was actually gonna ask if we could go to Diagon Alley and find a copy of that. I don’t know if they’d actually sell it anywhere there, but I gotta give that back to Madam Pince, you know?”
“I’ll see about ordering it,” Lyall replies. “It’s probably not the best to be picking that up in public even if they do have it. Never know what worker or other customers could see you with it and… well, you know.”
“Yeah.” Remus watches Lyall put the book down and start scanning the other papers all over. “I wish there were more books like that. I like reading about the other people like me. How they manage the condition and live with it. Most people probably don’t wan to write them after what happened to that guy, though, and even less people want to publish stuff like that in general.”
“You could write one.” It’s out so fast and Remus thinks, if the look on his face is anything to go by, that his dad hadn’t meant to say it. “Just… You’ve got one hell of a story yourself.”
“I suppose.” Remus shrugs, then laughs without humor. “I’ve thought about it. But I couldn’t really put anything substantial in it without essentially outing myself, so writing it anonymously…I’d have to leave out the important bits like how I was turned and the bit about being the first ever werewolf to attend Hogwarts. Also, you’d be painted as something of a villain.”
Lyall, to his credit, doesn’t so much as blink at that. “You’re right,” he sighs. He’s being weirdly nice right now, Remus thinks, but he doesn’t mention it. It’s nice being about to talk to him like this. Civil. Having an actual conversation. A conversation about werewolves.
“Anyway. Did you need something?”
“Actually, it’s about the other night.” He looks at Remus pointedly. Remus looks down at his lap.
Well, so much for that.
“It’s fine,” he mutters. “Nothing I heard was anything I didn’t already know.”
“I don’t think it is fine-”
“Yeah, well, I don’t want to talk about it,” Remus snaps.
Lyall takes a moment, sits down on Remus’ bed. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay. I don’t want to fight, and I daresay your mother would come up here and slap us both silly if she heard us fighting anyway.”
“Alright.”
One civil conversation over Christmas is better than he gets most entire summers, so he’ll take the strained awkwardness that settles back over them now.
Regulus
Dinner is a horrendous affair, as usual. Regulus sits stiff and rigid, right next to Sirius, who fidgets constantly. Narcissa is on his other side, spine so straight it can’t be comfortable. None of them say a word, listening instead to Bellatrix gush on and on about the latest happenings in her life, her husband offering commentary here and there.
The rest of the adults, his parents and aunt and uncle, exchange polite conversation. They’re all rather stiff, none of the familial warmth that he’s heard his brother describe of the Potters, though it’s all he’s ever known himself.
Narcissa picks at the food on her plate, pushing it around and taking small and few bites. Regulus can’t help but take notice of her shrinking frame, both physically and figuratively, and he frowns to himself. She was never an assertive person, though she was also never weak. Like himself, she kept to the corners of rooms and preferred to observe others, analyzing their moves, and committing to memory details that could benefit her in the future. His youngest cousin is undoubtedly who he modeled himself after growing up, and it angers him to see the toll that something is obviously taking on her.
It must have something to do with the odd and secretive political meetings his parents and Bellatrix have been attending. Following her recent engagement to the Malfoy heir, he figures that Narcissa must be under more pressure now than ever to uphold the family values and begin to contribute to the legacy. He hears enough of that superiority bullshit from his parents in the lectures they’ve been giving Sirius his whole life, as the Black heir.
He barely considers striking up a conversation with her, though he’d undoubtedly be scolded for interrupting his other cousin, who his parents and aunt and uncle are more than happy to let go on. And, knowing both himself and Narcissa, she wouldn’t like the attention.
Instead, he nudges Sirius’ foot with his own under the table when he notices their mother watching him drum his fingers against the edge of his plate. His brother scowls darkly at him and yanks his leg away, but stops nonetheless.
“Sirius.” Their aunt, Druella, speaks once Bellatrix is finished ranting about the expensive horses that Rodulphus had gifted her for their wedding anniversary. Poor creatures that Regulus doubts ever see the outside of the stables on the Lestrange property. “This year is your O.W.L.s, yes? How is your studying coming along?”
“It’s great,” Sirius replies blandly, in danger of beginning to fidget again now that everyone’s eyes are on him. Ironic, Regulus thinks, considering the ridiculous lengths that his brother will go to, to ensure that all the attention is his at school.
“’Great’ is not the standard you should hold yourself to, Sirius,” comes Walburga’s sharp voice from the head of the table. “You should be perfect.”
Sirius clears his throat, holding his head high in an almost mocking way as he turns to look at her. “I’m third in my class.”
“Your brother is first in his.”
Regulus gains a sudden interest in his ornate silver goblet, swirling the water around. They used to be allowed to have wine on the holidays, but Walburga banned them from it until they’re of age after an incident where Sirius got wasted and embarrassed their parents in front of other pureblood families at Cygnus’ birthday a few years back. Perhaps if they’d still been on speaking terms, Regulus would’ve teased him for being such a light weight.
Their mother continues. “Perhaps it would be more tolerable for you to be third if it didn’t mean that a mudblood was above you.”
“Her name is Lily,” Sirius snaps. “At least call her ‘Evans’ if you’re not going to call her that. Better yet, don’t call her anything at all. She’s far too brilliant for her name to be in your mouth.”
Regulus wishes his mother would start screaming. The silence is almost more terrifying. After several long seconds of no one moving, the water in his cup has gone so still that it makes him realize he’s not even breathing. He isn’t sure anyone else is either.
If Regulus dared to move his head to look around the table, he’d see Druella’s hand pressed firmly to her mouth, regretting speaking. Cygnus, staring at Sirius, is getting more purple in the face by the second, no doubt wishing that it was his son so that he could punish him. Bellatrix and Rodulphus wear looks of annoyed disgust and shock, respectively. Orion, with his icy glare, would probably have reached across already and backhanded Sirius, were they not several feet away from each other.
He can, however, see Narcissa’s fist clenched in the skirts of her dress, knuckles paper white.
Sirius’ leg is shaking, though he’s doing a good job of acting brave even if he’s regretting the outburst. Regulus wasn’t aware his brother felt so strongly protective of the redhead. He’d been under the impression that his brother shared the same disdain for her as she did for every one of the Gryffindor boys in her year, Lupin being the exception. It’s an inappropriate time to realize it, but their fondness for the tall, sandy haired boy is one thing he and the fiery girl have in common. Though he’s skeptical that Sirius would defend his honor so fiercely, if at all.
“Sirius,” their father says, before their mother can explode. “Go upstairs. The rest of us will continue this dinner without you.”
Sirius mutters something as he stands up, along the lines of ‘if I’d have known that’s all it took to get out of here, I’d have told the bat to stuff it ages ago’ that Regulus can only pray neither Walburga nor Orion could hear from either end of the long dining table.
Once the rest of the family had left for the night, Regulus went silently to bed, not wanting to be within hearing distance once Walburga marched upstairs to deal with Sirius.
To his great shock the next morning, however, the worst she’d done was silence him for the remainder of the break, swearing that he would not get his voice back until they left for King’s Cross the morning they were to return to Hogwarts.
January 17th, 1976
Regulus
Something seemed to click between the boys during the few hours that they sat together in the hospital wing, though they were several beds apart and did not speak to each other.
Their study sessions are now occupied with some small conversation about random things, not just about the work they’re doing.
Lupin will usually start it by asking how Regulus’ day is going, and Regulus will usually give a dry response, but a response nonetheless. Occasionally, he’ll respond with a complaint or two about his roommates, or some stupid story about what Barty and Evan had done earlier.
He tells himself he’s just doing it to be polite, but he finds himself genuinely interested when he asks Lupin about his day in return, and he’s grateful that the older is careful to never mention Sirius.
Today, Lupin doesn’t say much of anything. He just sits down and pulls a stack of books from his bag, looking for one, and begins to read silently. Regulus just assumes that he must be having an off day, which is relatable, so he makes no attempt at conversation himself. Until he hears a soft groan and looks up to see Lupin’s face scrunched up in pain, a slight sheen of sweat on his abnormally pale skin.
“Lupin, do you need to go to the hospital wing?” He asks.
“No, I’m fine, it’s just a slight fever.” The strain in his voice betrays the lie.
If Regulus were tactless, he’d lean away from the boy, though he’s sure that Lupin wouldn’t be here around other students if he were contagious. He thinks better about arguing, though the older certainly doesn’t look fine.
Lupin does seem to get sick a lot, though usually not bad enough to end up in the hospital wing anymore. Regulus vaguely remembers rumors last year about him being in the infirmary constantly, but to his knowledge, last month was the only time he’s been there this year. He’s not rude enough to ask about whatever chronic illness it is that he has, so he says nothing more on the matter at all.
Remus
The last full moon had been the first bad one since the other boys started joining him this year, the three of them having been over three hours late and leaving Remus to transform on his own.
Evidently, Moony could hold a grudge. He’d spent the night sulking, refusing to leave the shack to run around the forest like they usually do. He’d lashed out at prongs when he’d tried to approach him, and snarled at Wormtail, taking a swipe at Padfoot when the large dog had stepped in front of the rat to shield him.
Remus felt sorer than he’d been in months when he’d woken up, and Madame Pomfrey had even noted that it must’ve been a rough transformation when she spotted his new scars.
James had told him later what had happened, though he’d been wringing his hands together and looking everywhere in the hospital wing except Remus, so he got the idea that his friend wasn’t telling him everything, so as to not upset him. Which, that’s upsetting enough in itself.
This month is shaping up to be quite awful as well, though he hopes that the boys joining him on time tonight will appease Moony and that next month won’t be so bad. In any case, Remus vows to himself to never spend another moon without his friends when he can help it.
Regulus eventually has to leave for the Slytherin vs Hufflepuff Quidditch match later in the evening, so Remus begins to pack his things as well. Stuffing his books next to the Marauders’ Map in his bag- he makes sure to always have it when he’s with Regulus- he wishes the younger boy good luck.
“Should you be rooting for Slytherin? I wonder what Potter would say, being your teams captain and all.” Regulus gives him an odd sort of half-smile.
“Well, you’re not against Gryffindor in this game.” Remus shrugs. “So go kick some Hufflepuff ass.”
Remus settles into one of the couches in the common room, fishing through his bag yet again to pull out one of the many fictional novels he carries around to do some light reading while waiting for his friends to get back. He freezes in his tracks when he realizes what’s missing, cold dread dripping down his spine. The copy of that autobiography that his dad had tracked down and sent to him last week.
He doesn’t remember removing it from his bag, as he’s very careful not to leave it lying around where anyone could see it. He hadn’t expected his dad to send it to him at school, so he’s had to be careful not to even let any of the other boys find it. He doesn’t want them getting curious and asking questions about it and end up catching on to his research.
He races up to the dorm, nearly bumping into a couple of older boys on their way down the tight stairwell. It takes him all of one minute tearing through his belongings in the dorm to determine that the book is nowhere in the room.
The next place to check is the library, and dread creeps up his spine when he realizes that the table where he and Regulus sat was empty, no stray books in sight. The best he can hope for is that someone had turned it in to Madam Pince, mistaking it for one of the school’s books, though when he asks her, she tells him she hasn’t seen it.
Remus tells himself repeatedly that, logically, no one who could have found it would be able to trace it back to him, and that even if they did, they likely wouldn’t think anything of it, but that does nothing to ease the anxiety that settles over him.
Regulus
The match is brutal. Hufflepuff’s seeker this year is a third year, only a year behind Regulus himself, but this is her first year on the team. Regulus has been playing since his second year, Narcissa having graduated and left the position open just in time for him to take over. However much of an amateur the opposing seeker may be, Hufflepuff’s chasers are no joke.
In the first hour of the game, they’ve brought the score up to 260:40, not in Slytherin’s favor. Regulus has half a mind to fly by his own chasers and ask them what the hell they’re lazing around for, except, well, one of them is Dorcas. And Dorcas Meadowes doesn’t take kindly to being trash talked by anyone when she’s in her Quidditch mode. He flies around the pitch, looking for the snitch. Catching it at this point would be stupid, given that they’d lose. Especially when they’ve still got plenty of time to even the score. Regulus just needs to be sure that Hufflepuff’s rookie seeker doesn’t catch it. How humiliating that would be.
He’s not sure that Lupin is even in the crowd, but he feels as though he’s letting the boy down. He’s not used to losing at all, much less when someone’s rooting for him. His other three friends somewhere in the stands hardly count. They’re under obligation to cheer him and Dorcas, given that they have no other friends, certainly none on any other teams.
Wait. Since when is he thinking of Lupin as a friend?
There’s no time for him to ponder this new thought, as the opponents’ best chaser is taken out by a bludger, leaving Hufflepuff left with only two. Dorcas takes advantage of the distraction to score a goal.
With Hufflepuff’s remaining players tense, and Regulus’ own teammates gaining a renewed sense of vigor and confidence, the green and silver chasers manage several more points in the next hour.
Once the score is close enough that catching the snitch would win them the match, Regulus begins looking for the golden ball more seriously. It ends up being easy to find, hovering below the commentator’s podium. He makes a quick dive for it, closing his fist around victory before Hufflepuff’s seeker even realizes he’s spotted it.
The sun is well set by the time everyone is off the pitch, the full moon just visible over the tree line of the forbidden forest. Barty, Evan, and Pandora join him and Dorcas and the rest of the Slytherin team as they leave the changing rooms and head for the dungeons.