Mate
Regulus looked at himself in the mirror, frowning at his appearance. He turned to the side, tugging down on the t-shirt Barty lent him, scrutinising himself. After much pleading and begging, Barty had convinced Regulus to let him choose his outfit for tonight, claiming his usual clothes were ‘too posh for this sort of place’.
Regulus didn’t even want to go there in the first place, wherever there was. He’d be perfectly content to stay here, in his own clothes, curled up on the couch reading a book. It was Evan and Barty that were forcing him to go out, insisting it would be fun, yet as Regulus stared at himself in these clothes he wasn’t so sure.
The clothes in question were… shabby. Regulus didn’t know how else to describe them. They hung off his body, showing all his sharp bones jutting out in awkward angles, his thin frame that looked like it was drowning in the t-shirt at least 3 times too big for him. The pants were just as bad, so baggy Regulus had been forced to tighten his belt to the max, and even then they still drooped lower than what Regulus would consider comfortable.
He was interrupted from his inspection by three thundering slams on his bedroom door, the knocks filled with such power that the doorknob rattled. Regulus seethed, eyes narrowing at the door. Barty would end up breaking it if he wasn’t careful. He glanced back at himself in the mirror, unused to see himself dressed so… scruffily. Was he really going to let Barty and Evan see him in this?
Unfortunately he wasn’t given a choice as Barty assaulted his door again, the hinges on his door giving a last groan before giving out. The door let out a sickening crack sound as it fell, hanging from an angle. There was the sound of scuffling before the door was pushed open and Barty sheepishly shuffled in, eyes on the door he’d just destroyed.
Evan sauntered in after him, unruffled by his mate’s destruction. Regulus scowled, arms crossed as he surveyed his splintered door, knowing he’d need to get someone to fix it before his mother came home and found the broken door. He focused on that instead of his friends roving eyes, all too aware of their gazes and feeling like an idiot.
He’d never dressed like this before. As the only heir to the Black family, third in command in the Slytherin pack, he was expected to look a certain way, and he had looked that way all his life. Wearing expensive clothing and accessories was second nature to him, so to choose to wear this was certainly different from his usual attire.
“Looking good Black,” Barty commented, moving forward to playfully nudge his shoulder.
Regulus’s scowl deepened. “I look like a homeless person.”
Barty shrugged, slinging an arm over his shoulder. “That’s the style these days, apparently.”
Indeed, Barty and Evan were both wearing similar clothes, and Regulus couldn’t help but wonder what people would think if they saw them like this. Barty Crouch Jr, the Alpha of Slytherin’s son and soon to inherit the title, his mate Evan Rosier, soon to be Luna, and Regulus, Black family heir and soon to be third in command. They were certainly a sight to see.
They’d just need Lucius, second in command in Slytherin and they’d bring shame to the whole pack. Lucius was 8 years older than them though, just having reached 30, and was dreadful company, the main reason he wasn’t here today. And the fact that he would never go so low as to dress like the three of them currently were.
“Ready to go?” Evan asked from the doorway, barely concealed glee on his face.
Alone, the two werewolves were hard to handle but together… together they were unbearable. They’d refused to tell Regulus what they were doing tonight, refused to give him any bit of information aside from the fact that they’d be entering No Mans Land, which gave Regulus the idea that whatever they were doing, he would not like it.
There were four packs in England: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. All together they covered about three quarters of the country, but the last quarter of England was left alone, the werewolves deeming it No Mans Land. Technically no one was allowed there without permission from the Alpha of your pack, but the werewolves of England had long ago forgone that rule, deciding that No Mans Land was an exciting adventure and they were the explorers that were to travel the area.
As a child, Regulus had been terrified of No Mans Land, begging his older brother to stay at home whenever he stated he was going to explore it, but as he grew up and Sirius left, he stopped viewing the place as something to fear and instead saw it as something to conquer. So, with his two faithful friends by his side, he’d crossed the line of his territory and entered No Mans Land, and had been delighted by what he’d found.
So for the years after that fateful night, Barty, Evan, and Regulus, occasionally joined by their other friends Pandora and Dorcas, would cross over to No Mans Land and enjoy the freedom of roaming an ungoverned area of land. No Alpha to tell them where to go. No places restricted to only the highest ranked werewolves. Everything was free to everyone, something all three of the boys had been shocked to find out.
Now they crossed the border nearly every week, though they always took care to steer clear of the Gryffindor’s land next to theirs. The four packs formed a sort of circle around No Mans Land, which was in the centre of England. Slytherin shouldered Gryffindor on one side and Hufflepuff on the other, while Ravenclaw resided opposite to them, No Mans Land in between the two packs.
There were strict borders between the four packs, but over the years there have been many skirmishes and wars that have erupted between the packs over crossing to others territories and stealing land. Gryffindor and Slytherin, the two largest packs of the four, have often fought over land with each other, creating a rivalry between the two packs that has lasted for centuries.
Since Ravenclaw can’t steal their land, they’d become trusted allies. Similar to Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, they’d become strong allies too. So the threat for Slytherin and Ravenclaw lied with Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, though there was no lasting rivalry between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff like there was between Slytheirn and Gryffindor.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Regulus asked flatly, already knowing the answer.
Barty laughed, tossing his head back in the process and Regulus didn’t miss the way Evan’s eyes followed the action. The two idiots had been in love for years before they turned 18 and the mating bond snapped into place, but they’d been too oblivious to notice. For years on end Regulus had been forced to listen to Evan’s insecurities on how Barty would never love him, that he needed a female to be a Luna and Evan never could, that Barty deserved better than Evan, all the while at the same time weathering Barty’s complaints on why Evan hadn’t made a move yet, and how pretty Evan was, and did you know Evan bought a new jacket, and I wish I could bone Evan, etcetera etcetera.
It was a relief when they reached 18, the age that a werewolf’s senses would finally be able to detect their mate. It was comical, really, when Evan had his birthday party, and just as he blew out the candles his head snapped to the side, staring right at Barty. Everyone had frozen, unsure what was happening, and had watched in utter shock as Evan walked away from his cake and unblown candles, stalking right towards Barty. He’d grabbed Barty’s face in his hands and fiercely pressed his lips against Barty’s, the boys’ eyes widening before he happily returned the kiss, his hands finding their way into Evan’s hair.
It had been a day to remember, especially since the majority of Slytherin pack had been there to celebrate their future Alpha’s eighteenth birthday. Now, five years later, the two men were just as in love as they had been back then, possibly even more so, and Regulus was stuck being the third wheel between them.
“Of course not,” Barty said, answering Regulus’s earlier question. “You’ve just got to wait and see.”
Regulus rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, “of course I do.”
Both men laughed this time before exiting Regulus’s room, Regulus making one last mental note to get onto the broken door problem as soon as he came home from wherever his two friends were taking him. After that, the three friends walked their usual path from the sprawling Black family estate, walking along the dimly lit pathway as Barty swung around the passing road lamps.
They passed house after house, each one more extravagant than the last. They were on the rich side of Slytherin, most of these houses homing other werewolves of high ranks, or just the few lucky muggles that managed to score a house or two here before the werewolves snatched up the rest.
Muggles were what werewolves called humans, the ones that didn’t belong in a pack, that couldn’t transform into the sharp toothed beasts that the rest of them could. The ones who lived normal, boring lives, oblivious to the monsters living across from them, next to them. Obviously, werewolves are forbidden to hurt muggles, lest they realise the beasts exist, but there are a few who disregard those rules. Who disregard everything werewolves follow. A pack full of rogues, who left their original pack or were banished from it. A dangerous pack that is not talked about, lest the fear get to everyone.
The three men walked along the path until they reached the end of the street, where they could either turn right and go further into Slytherin territory, or turn left and walk into the woods. The woods, that most muggles avoided out of fear, but that all werewolves walked to, a place where they could transform without fear of being seen by muggles. The forest went on for miles before eventually reaching No Mans Land, more than a day's walk on foot.
Good thing they weren’t walking.
They turned left, casting wary glances behind them in case any muggles saw them, but the streets were deserted. They entered the forest, letting the trees envelope them in darkness as the street behind them disappeared. Regulus took the lead, his eyes working fine in the darkness, as all werewolves' eyes did.
He walked the familiar path, the path his brother had once walked before him, no doubt to release that restless urge to cause trouble that he always seemed to have. He would have stepped over the root like Regulus just had. He would have turned right just as Regulus did, noting the boulder with the carving in it. He would have continued walking until he reached the small shed, just as Regulus did.
He would have opened the doors, eyes wide as he saw what lay within, ready to use it to leave the territory. To leave the pack. To leave Regulus. The man sneered at the thought of his brother, irritated at being drawn into the memory of him. He banished all thoughts of Sirius, focusing on the two motorbikes in front of him.
Two, for two people. Except he’d only taken one. Himself.
Regulus snatched up one of the helmets nearby, the familiar raging fire blazing inside him as it always did when he thought of his brother. He ignored the loss that accompanied it, and the longing for his big brother. All he focused on was the fire, let it consume it, let it be the only thing that mattered. That fiery hate he had for his brother, the rage that would tear him apart if Regulus ever saw him again.
“You alright mate?”
Regulus jolted as he was viciously torn from the memories, from the hate, and placed back in the real world where he was clutching the bike’s handlebars tight enough that his knuckles had turned white.
He sighed, calming himself down as he ignored the worried looks from his friends. It happened sometimes, the drifting, as if he was taken to a different world filled with nothing but memories and pain and loss. And him. Always him.
Always Sirius.
“I’m fine,” he said to his friends, kicking the bike’s kickstand out the way as he started the vehicle.
The others followed suit after a split second of hesitation, Evan starting the bike while Barty sat behind him, arms wrapped around his waist. In the past Barty had always thrown a fuss when Evan and Regulus never let him ride the motorbikes, but on his eighteenth when he’d finally been allowed to drive it, he crashed it immediately and cost Regulus quite a lot of money to get it fixed in secret, lest his mother find out about it and take it away for good.
Regulus shivered, the very thought of his mother finding out about their escapades to No Mans Land terrifying him. He couldn’t fathom what would happen, what she’d do to him if she found out. Probably what she’d done to Sirius.
Regulus heard the whine of the dog, heard Sirius’s pleading, pounding on the door, begging for someone, anyone, to help him. Begging for Regulus. Please Reg. Help me. I don’t want to do this. Regulus please-
Regulus sped out of the shed, going way over the speed limit for what’s appropriate while driving in a forest. Still, his two friends didn’t chide him as they drove up behind him, only slightly slower than he himself. He drove and drove, as if hoping to run away from the memories, like if he went fast enough they wouldn’t be able to catch up with him. Regulus knew they’d come back eventually but tonight, just for tonight, he wanted to go without them. Wanted to enjoy Friday night with his friends without being haunted by his brother’s betrayal.
So he drove, and he didn’t stop until they passed the border of Slytherin’s territory and entered No Mans Land, the free land, where no Alpha reigned over.
Regulus slowed down when the trees started getting thinner and fewer in between, knowing the forest would end soon and not knowing where to go, letting Evan and Barty overtake him and going at a slower pace as they entered the muggle town.
He followed the bike in front of him, surprised when they turned left at the lights instead of right. They didn’t often go this way because there wasn’t much to see other than decrypt buildings and cheap bars. There must be something new though, so Regulus followed, though he kept a wary eye on the inhabitants of the town, knowing as they got closer to the slums of the city that the dangerous people emerged.
Sure, Regulus as a werewolf could take them, but he couldn’t transform in a public area without revealing lycanthropy to the world, something he would be punished and killed for. So he kept an eye out and followed Evan and Barty as they led him through the streets, hoping they’d get to wherever they were going soon.
At the sight of Evan slowing down he did to, following the boys as they drove off the side of the road and into a parking garage. The place was filled with the sound of their running engines as they drove in, though they quickly stopped, quieting the sound of their bikes.
“Where are we?” Regulus asked when he took off his helmet, looking around with his lips curled in distaste.
The garage was small, cramped, and he saw more than one critter crawl across the floor near his feet. It smelled of something rotten, and he was certain that if he touched the walls, his fingers would come back coated in grimy dirt.
Barty scoffed, grabbing a moth eaten blanket and throwing it over the two bikes, hiding them from view. “We’re not there yet. Give us a break, why don’t you?”
Regulus rolled his eyes but said nothing, letting the two boys lead him out of the parking garage and down the street. Again, he kept a look out for any danger, but the two men in front of him seemed to be at ease, strolling down the road like they owned it. Regulus supposed he looked like that too, because even though he didn’t feel it, he always had an air of superiority around him, one that had been instilled in him since he was a child by his parents.
Regulus followed them until they reached a building, stopping in front of it. Regulus looked up, frowning. It looked like any other building on this street. Small, plain, and boring, the plaster peeling and crumbling in places. He raised an eyebrow at Barty and Evan but they just ignored him, walking forwards until they reached the door.
They knocked three times, then paused for a beat before knocking twice after that. Regulus tried to hide his interest in the action, knowing the other two would be insufferable if Regulus ended up liking whatever surprise they had planned. What was the knocking? Some sort of password? What place required a password, especially something in this sort of area?
Regulus’s wariness came back in full force. He didn’t like this. Something was going on here, and he didn’t know if his friends had thought this through. The Mother knows they have a past of not thinking things through.
It seemed his caution was for nothing though, because the door opened without a word and Barty flashed Regulus a grin before entering, Evan following behind him. Regulus glanced behind him before following his friends, wondering if he was making a mistake of some kind by entering the house.
Except the house turned out not to be a house at all. Instead, Regulus was presented with a steep set of stairs that Barty and Evan were already descending, talking quietly with one another while they threw Regulus cheeky looks. Regulus knew those looks, knew that whatever was inside this place, they were sure it would impress Regulus. Regulus didn’t like that one bit.
He followed his friends, taking the staircase one step at a time, his footsteps, along with Evan and Barty’s, echoing upwards. Regulus glanced behind him and found a man standing at the door, his back to them as he waited for the next person to knock on the door.
Immediately the hairs on Regulus’s arms raised when he realised that person was a werewolf. A werewolf in No Mans Land.
Regulus knew there were werewolves roaming around No Mans Land, but he’d never come across one in his time exploring it, and from the way Evan and Barty continued walking, unruffled by Regulus’s realisation, Regulus knew they were aware of the werewolf, which begged the question: where were they taking Regulus?
The werewolf got his answer moments later when they arrived at another door at the end of the staircase and, to Regulus’s surprise, yet another werewolf guarding it. They took one look at Evan and Barty and opened the door, motioning for the three of them to enter.
As soon as they did, Regulus was assaulted with the sound of music blaring from speakers. He blinked, caught off guard from the flashing lights around the room, and tried to take in his surroundings. It looked to be some kind of underground club, bodies on the floor dancing, neon lights flickering over the room. There was a bar to the right side of it, a few of the stool occupied as the bartender poured drinks.To the left there were a few scattered chairs and tables, some of them filled as people chattered amongst the glowing lights.
What shocked Regulus though, because he’d been to plenty of clubs before, were the current inhabitants. They were werewolves. Not a single muggle in sight. The smell of so many werewolves threatened to overwhelm Regulus. Not because there were so many- Regulus had attended pack meetings so obviously he’d been around a lot of werewolves- but because they were all from different packs.
The packs of England rarely interacted with each other outside of official business or scheduled visits, and even then everything was carefully monitored. Here though, there were so many strange, foreign scents filling Regulus’s nose he felt dizzy. Dancing, talking, drinking with one another, all in the same space without ripping each other's throats out. There was no rivalry here, no snarled warnings and bared teeth. Everyone seemed happy to be there, excited even, as if conferring with other packs was an adventure.
Regulus was… confused. And in awe. How did a place like this exist? A club in No Mans Land for werewolves from different packs to all meet up and just have fun. The idea was ludicrous, especially to Regulus who had attended endless meetings filled with talk of strained allies and politics between packs. None of that seemed to exist here though. There was no strained anything. No politics. It was unbelievable.
Barty and Evan stood beside Regulus, grinning at him. Regulus was so taken aback he didn’t even care. He just looked, taking everything in. Taking in all the werewolves in, and which packs they were from.
Every pack had a certain scent. Each werewolf had a bit of that scent mixed in with their own scent, and usually it was easy enough to identify it. With the crowd though, and so many different scents Regulus was having trouble identifying which werewolf was from which pack. Then again, that was probably purposeful, because the last thing you needed here was two members from different packs getting in a fight.
It didn’t seem like that would happen though, and again Regulus marvelled at how these people had somehow created peace between the werewolf packs. Sure, they’re friendly enough with each other, polite and well mannered, but rarely ever do you see so many werewolves from different packs enjoying themselves together like they were right now.
Regulus turned to his friends. “How did you find this place?”
Barty flashed a wicked grin, raising his voice over the music as he said, “a gentleman never tells.”
Regulus huffed, annoyed, but knew he’d get the answer out of Barty eventually. For time being though, he was content to be in the dark, observing the room with fascination. His fingers twitched, his whole body restless, but for what Regulus couldn’t quite figure out. Did he want to dance, to be among the writhing bodies on the dance floor, press his skin against someone else’s? Another packs? Or did he want a drink, to go to the bar and have a shot, possibly meet a wolf from another pack and start up a conversation, see just how different they were to one another? Or did he want to go to one of the booths, to sit there quietly and watch everything unfold, all the while filing every bit of information he gleaned from the other packs into his mind for a later date?
The options were all there. Regulus needed only to go and choose one, follow a path and see where it took him. Before he could make a decision, though, Barty made one for him.
“Let’s go dancing!” the boy exclaimed eagerly, taking his boyfriend’s hand and leading him into the crowd.
Regulus sighed but went after them, moving between people as he followed the patch of blonde hair he knew belonged to Evan. Regulus breathed in everyone’s scents, getting a surprising thrill from sensing so many people from different places. It did feel exciting, knowing you were amongst others of your kind, yet not. Others who shared your species, but did not share your pack. The same, yet different.
He managed to find his friends again, the two mates dancing against one another, revelling in the music, the lights, each other. Regulus rolled his eyes and struggled to escape the crowd, heading towards the bar. It was just like them, to drag Regulus somewhere only to get caught up in each other along the way.
It’s not like Regulus could blame them though. They were mates. It was self explanatory really, or at least that’s what people tell him. Regulus hadn’t met his mate yet, so it wasn’t as if he was able to confirm this himself. People tell him about it though; Barty and Evan, Dorcas’s sister and her mate, and anyone else he’d met who has a mate. They all say the same thing; it’s an amazing experience, they’re your other half, you feel complete with them etcetera etcetera. Regulus always says, he’ll believe it when he sees it. Or rather, when he feels it.
Still, that’s not to say he doesn’t believe in the mating bond. He knows it’s true, and knows how important it is for him and his kind. He could just be a bit bitter sometimes, and scared. Scared that maybe he wouldn’t have a mate, or that his mate wouldn’t want him. Considering the fact that his own brother didn’t want him, Regulus didn't find the idea far fetched.
“What can I get ya?”
Regulus looked at the bartender, a man in his mid 40’s with a brown beard covering most of his face, though you were still able to see his glittering blue eyes, a startling contrast from the rest of his face hidden behind the dark bush of beard. Regulus sniffed, eyes widening slightly when he recognised the Gryffindor scent. As a kid, his mother made him know each pack’s scent and be able to identify it off by heart, though he’d never met a Gryffindor in real life. The closest he’d gotten to one was Sirius’s friend, James, that Sirius had met in No Mans Land.
Regulus frowned at the thought of James Potter, a Gryffindor he’d never met yet one he hated with his entier being. He pushed the boy away though, because right now was not the time to get into all that.
“Gin and tonic, please,” Regulus requested, fishing out some money from his pockets before sliding it over the bar top.
The man took the money before busying himself with making Regulus’s drink, all the while Regulus stared at him closely, suspicion and curiosity warring against one another inside him.
“What’s your name?” he eventually asked, curiosity winning out.
The man’s eyes flicked to Regulus for a second before concentrating back on the drink, his hands moving nimbly as he worked.
“Aberforth,” the man grunted, passing the drink over to Regulus as he did so.
Regulus nodded his thanks and sipped his drink, gaze leaving Aberforth as it drank in its surroundings once again. He spied an empty table near the back of building and moved towards it, darting out of the way of nearby dancers.
When he settled, he went back to his observing, occasionally taking a sip of his drink. As he looked around, he couldn’t stop thinking, Sirius would love this place. He would. Regulus knew if Sirius ever found this place he would be ecstatic, coming here every Friday night, unable to get enough of it.
The sound of snarling echoed through the house. Sirius’s whimpers. His begging gone unanswered. Soon enough the house was filled with his screams too-
Regulus got up, leaving his drink discarded on the table as he stalked around the crowd, needing to escape his thoughts. He wasn’t sure where exactly he was going; the bathroom maybe. All he knew was he needed to stop thinking about Sirius, needed something to get his mind off his brother.
He was in the middle of the crowd, aiming for the exit where he might get a breath of fresh air, when he stopped in his tracks. Everything seemed to still, the rest of the world fading away as he smelt that scent. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced in his life; like the fragrance of the sun.
Regulus turned around, desperate to find where the scent was coming from. He searched between the dancing bodies, his eyes scanning for the source of that sweet, sweet smell, but he came up empty.
He felt the wolf claw at his throat, begging to be released, begging to hunt down and find the owner of the scent, find what was driving him crazy. Regulus couldn’t think; the scent filled his head, filled his lungs, filled his very being.
He needed to find it. Needed it in his grasp. Needed to find out what was making him feel like he was floating, like he was soaring above everything, reaching up to touch the sun. The brilliant, shining sun that was wrapping itself around him, covering him like a blanket, something Regulus wanted to stay under forever.
Was it a drug? Had someone slipped something into his drink, something that was making him feel like this? Whatever it was, he’d never felt it before. Never felt this level of want, this level of fulfilment before. And whatever it was, Regulus was desperate for more of it.
It wasn’t a drug though, because Regulus could smell it. It was a scent, coming from something. Or someone. He’d never smelt anything like it before, never experienced anything that could make him feel this much from just the scent of it. Yet Regulus knew if he didn’t find what was making him feel this he’d go crazy.
Except the scent seemed to find him instead.
It hit him in full force, as if it had come closer. Regulus got drunk on it, letting it into his mouth, his lungs, his soul. He drank it in, in in, wanting more, more, more. It was so close, and though his thoughts were hazy, he focused on trying to find out where it was coming from, what direction to turn to.
Behind you.
Regulus spun around eagerly, only for his heart to stop. It just… stopped. Everything just stopped; the music, the people, his breath. Everything stopped, except him.
Him. The source of the scent. Him, the man standing before Regulus. Him, the very sun itself.
His skin was a sepia, reddish brown, like the bark on a tree when sunset hits it. There were glasses on his face, two circles framing his eyes which were the darkest hazel, two orbs full of the earth beneath them, like someone had taken a handful of the rich soil and put it in his eyes. His hair was as black as a crow’s feathers, dishevelled and askew and absolutely perfect.
He stood with the air of someone brave, his posture confident and unwavering. He was well built, muscles subtly shown beneath his t-shirt, and was tall, taller than Regulus himself, around 6 feet. He had a jumper slung over his arm and was staring at Regulus with wide eyes and a slack jaw, his full, pink lips parted, showing a glance of perfect white teeth.
Regulus didn’t know what to do. He was at a loss for words, for thoughts, as he stared at the godly figure in front of him. Who was this man, this perfect looking man, who was making Regulus’s knees go weak? Who was making Regulus feel dizzy, like he was about to faint, and hoping that the man would catch him.
He didn’t know. Didn’t know anything beyond the man in front of him and the way he was looking at Regulus, as if he was being presented with a work of art. With the most beautiful, carefully crafted, captivating piece of art in the entire world.
The man stared at him, and breathed one word. A word Regulus never believed would leave anyone’s lips, not for him. A word too good to be true. A word Regulus longed for and yet at the same time was terrified of. A word that sent this dream crashing down.
“Mate.”
What did he just say? Regulus must have misheard him, because there was no way this man had just called Regulus his mate. No. it couldn’t be true. This man couldn’t be Regulus’s mate. That didn’t make any sense. Not when this man was a he, not when this man was a Gryffindor.
That thought seemed to snap Regulus out of the trance he’d been in. He stared at this beautiful man, and felt nothing but terror. He couldn’t be Regulus’s mate. His mother wouldn’t allow it. A Gryffindor and a man? Regulus would be disowned before he could blink. Or killed.
Terrified, Regulus did the only thing he could think of. The thing he cursed his brother for doing all those years ago, the thing that was in his very blood.
He turned and ran.