Chapter 9
And even if Regulus humbly accepted his death, opening his cold arms to it, filled with longing, that doesn't mean he is just as calmly entering a new vortex of the time loop.
As soon as his eyes see the native walls of his parents' home, where he so kindly received the curse that killed him, his breath instantly freezes in his chest. His whole body goes numb, so much so that Regulus can't move a single muscle. The only movement he can make is to slide down the wall to the floor and bury his face in his knees in the pathetic hope that comfort will come before he has to face his parents' wrath.
Regulus feels himself gasp, thinking about the need for one more try. Fatigue has settled deep in his bones. Determination flows smoothly alongside it, steady and strong, but it is impossible not to be exhausted in the time he has spent in the whirlwind of time, shamelessly letting him go with its current, wild and violent.
His heart beats in a strange rhythm that now seems closer to steady. Exactly the way he'd felt all the time he'd been in the cycle. Had it been months, years? A sense of panic and urgency has accompanied him always, quiet but still lurking in the back of his mind even in moments of calm.
Regulus feels weakness in his legs, good thing he's already sitting up. His hands are trembling - he knows without even looking at them. His eyes burn with the urge to burst into tears, like a small child barely able to get away from his mother's skirt, but they remain dry - he is not allowed to sob over nothing, not now, not after what he has been through and what is yet to come.
It is not known how long he sits in this position, but as his limbs begin to tingle, Regulus realises that most of the panic has left his body, giving way to his mind, which in an instant seeks to recall every event that has managed to take place and bring them almost to a positive conclusion. The one that burns brightest in his mind is his last moments, Dumbledore's important words about Horcruxes, which he has no right to forget.
Just then an old but never-used diary, kindly given to him on some holiday by a relative, comes into his hands. The middle of the book opens, hard and fast lines adorn the white sheets.
In the middle of how the increasingly frenetic letters fill the pages, Regulus suddenly freezes, barely daring to breathe. Slowly, he sets aside his quill, then tears the letter he had just written to shreds.
“Expecto Patronum," he whispers with a puff of curiosity, but, predictably, it has no effect.
He's not upset, though. A satisfied smirk spreads across his face as his hands gather his travelling bag. His hopping gait carries him through the gloomy house, successfully avoiding every creaking floorboard.
The crack of apparatus sounds at the door of Grimmo Square, but no one is around.
His friends' houses appear before his eyes, one by one: first Barty, because stealing him out from under his father's nose is the easiest thing to do, and the latter, grinning so wide his cheeks should ache, asks no questions; then Evan, for almost the same reason, with the exception that he still has to be taken out from under his parents' gaze, but he is given to the Slytherins with frightening ease; and Pandora, flapping her eyes in surprise but hurrying to follow.
Regulus smiles contentedly as the people most important to him stand by his side, happy and safe, looking at him perplexed.
Another whirlwind of a spell carries them away from any semblance of impending magical war, Voldemort, passions and intrigue, dropping them into the shadows of the woodland.
Regulus lifts his head to the sky and breathes in the air full-breath, free and happy. The wind gently ruffles his hair, short again, blowing over his skin in a way that feels like a mother's gentle touch, filled with love, and whispering to him, "I believe in you."
“Hey Reg," Barty calls out to him, looking him over questioningly, "no problem, but it would be nice if you could explain what the hell we have going on here?”
“Then I suggest you sit down," Black laughs, enjoying the surprise that flashes across his friends' faces at such open happiness.
And so begins his amazing story, more like the ramblings of a madman as he explains everything he's experienced, everything they've experienced. By the end of his monologue there wouldn't be an emotion that wasn't felt by the people cosy in front of him, but he saved the most interesting part for last.
“So I have made an important and responsible decision..” a meaningful pause descends on their company, heavy and tense with anticipation, “we rest.”
No one utters a word for a long, long time, until simultaneously they begin to shout in elation, disbelief and doubt. Regulus grins widely, looking at them with loving, warm eyes.
“One loop," he murmurs and sees them gradually soften as well, "no wars, no tension, no torture. Just the four of us and total comfort.”
With a sigh that is far from disappointment and closer to rapturous surprise, they agree.
Finding an abandoned cottage in the middle of nowhere is not as hard a task as Regulus had imagined. The weather is milder and warmer, so Black spends a good part of the time lying in the sun and basking like a lazy cat, but no one condemns him, and Pandora joins in while Barty and Evan have a particularly strong flirtation (they try to kill each other).
The house is in a state of disrepair: boards here and there are falling off or rotted away, everything is covered in dust and filled with critters, cute and not so cute. Pandora laughs as the boys avoid the corners with a spider innocently peering at them with each of its eyes. But, rolling their sleeves up higher, they get to work and slowly the dilapidated building begins to look like a home.
It is not the first time Regulus has worked with his hands rather than magic, and it brings a welcome comfort. The broom in his hand is gripped tightly as he sweeps every corner of the stale house until it is only slightly better, still looking rather deplorable.
Pandora accepts the responsible mission of fixing up the house after bringing it to an adequate state of repair, but until then goes off to scout out what's around their place.
Evan takes care of the roof. It's not without the help of magic, but for the most part he does well on his own. The boards have been replaced, finding all the holes in the process, thanks to the past rain, which took great pleasure in showing them all the flaws in the previous work they had done. Above, grinning broadly, they paint them a bright blue colour that glistens amazingly in the sun.
Barty tidies up the area around the house, periodically joined by the others. The overgrown beds become tidy and receive their first flower seeds.
Slowly but surely, the house is truly becoming a place they could call home, in the warmest and gentlest of senses.
At a fair distance from them, but still quite close for their comfort, is a decent sized village. The people there are rather reserved, but open up when they recognise that they have settled nearby. Their accents are strong and rough, but their eyes are gentle as they help the newcomers as best they can.
The house fills with the aroma of warm baked goods, their beds are soft, and the first sprouts appear in the flowerbeds.
***
“Barty, it's your turn to go grocery shopping!” shouts Pandora, peering out from behind the door of her room at Crouch, who is sprawled out on the sofa, staring at the spider they never dared to get rid of with threats from the girl.
“Dora, do something about your friend!” replies the latter, and swears, the spider waving its paws mockingly.
“Leave her alone, you jerk, and pack up come on. Nancy won't wait forever and just walks away.”
It's their eternal argument.
Even though they know that Nancy, the sweet old grocery lady, will wait for them and won't refuse to help them, that she stays until victory in her eternal place, it doesn't stop them from bickering with renewed vigour every time. The laughing spider doesn't help matters.
***
“Who the fuck let you in the kitchen, you moron?” Evan yells, pulling Regulus away from the tiles separating the living room from the kitchen.
“I let myself in!” Black answers him sharply, snapping his teeth close to his skin.
“Who let you out of your cage, you beast!” shrieks Rosier now that Regulus's attention has shifted to him in a full-scale attack.
“No-one tied me up, so it's your own fault you're dead, you idiot!” laughs Regulus, "Black is on the loose, all at my feet!”
When Pandora and Barty return the smell of burning still hangs in the air, but they find no trace of the crime in the kitchen. Evan grins widely, showing the 'battle scar' from Regulus' bite, barely noticeable. Black, with an equally bright smile, pokes him under the ribs. His hair is dishevelled, covered in flour, but happiness waves over them both.
***
Life is bright and good. Regulus feels as light as he's ever felt before. The only thing marring the happy time is the realisation that the world around him has not slowed down. Voldemort is still alive and there is no one but Regulus and Dumbledore who knows about the Horcruxes, so his reign will last until one of them does something.
Black shakes his head hastily and makes an effort to relax his suddenly stiffened shoulders.
One loop. Without all this torture, he'll only do one run and then go into battle with renewed vigour.
A faint flicker of hope flickers in his chest: suddenly, he doesn't have to participate in this whole war? Suddenly, the world will be perfectly fine getting rid of the Dark Lord without him, and he can enjoy freedom with his family.
He pushes those thoughts away and smiles as he notices a paper crane flying towards him, landing smoothly on the top of his head.
“Come here, little star!” Dora laughs as she lifts a tray of cakes in various colours, "I promise Barty won't go anywhere near the kitchen!”
In that case, you don't have to worry about safety.
As long as neither he nor Barty gets anywhere near the kitchen (they have an unspoken competition to see who can attempt their culinary skills without being seen, more often).
***
Pandora smiles as Evan gently goes through her hair and gradually braids it into a strong braid. They are sitting on the grass behind the house, so that the flowers around them are exposed to the fate of being woven into the snow-white strands.
“Done, oh my queen," he says, smiling as he finally finishes his hair, head held high.
Pandora laughs and lifts him to his feet, twirling him around in a dance to an unfamiliar tune. Evan eagerly joins her.
“Are you in a good mood?” he smiles softly, ignoring the urge to ruffle the girl's hair just because he'd just braided it himself.
“Of course," she exhales contentedly and spins Evan around, "after all, what more could you want? We're all here, safe, happy. If it weren't for the Dark Lord, we might not have to worry at all.”
Rosier pulls her close to him and slows to a soft sway. He kisses the top of the girl's head and doesn't answer.
***
They lazily sprawled around the house, each minding their own business. Despite the hovering silence around them, everyone feels comfortable in this environment, at peace at heart as much as possible given their situation.
A knock on the door distracts them from simply enjoying the hot day.
“Who the hell is that," Barty growls, already disgruntled, "If those idiotic raccoons have learnt to knock on the door, I'm going to kill myself.”
Slowly the door opens and no sooner does indignation form on Crouch's lips than he flies with a heavy carcass to the other end of the house, hitting the wall hard and falling with a clatter.
They're too used to a relaxed life. Fuck.
The wands in their hands don't appear in time. Bellatrix enters the house, their house, as the mistress of this place, her grin wide and insane, showing off her sharp fangs.
“Found you, little ones," she purrs and a green, swirling spell flies at Pandora.
Heart sinking in his chest, Regulus rushes to the girl, pulling her hand out in a desperate plea, but, thankfully, Evan is both closer and faster, and manages to drag her from the clutches of death. The cousin pouts her lips resentfully, like a child.
“How rude.”
Regulus waits no longer. He grabs Barty, who is barely starting to come to his senses, and leaps through the wide-open window and knows the other two will follow suit.
“Come on, Barty, for fuck's sake," he pushes up, dragging most of his friend's weight.
Pandora and Evan fight off Bellatrix as best they can and succeed in slowing her down, which unfortunately seems to only encourage her. Barty finally recovers enough to be able to mostly walk on his own, but Regulus doesn't dare let him go.
They hide among the trees. Knowing the forest around them plays into their hands, but Bellatrix is no fool and knows how to navigate the terrain around them, so it's only a matter of time before she adapts enough to give them trouble.
Regulus presses his lips together, noticing that Pandora didn't remain unharmed while she covered them. Thankfully, Evan is lucky enough. Barty is able to walk, but still doesn't look quite himself.
Grass rustled and crunched underfoot, branches breaking. Wide trees spread their sharp paws in every direction, trying to slow them down. Their breath thundered in the suddenly silent forest.
With a loud screech from the treetops, the birds fly off into the distance, away from here.
Regulus slows down and carefully hands Crouch to Pandora, gazing into their facial features as if those features had not been burned into the very retina of his eye by each of the previous loops. His heart thuds deafeningly in his chest, the former happiness gone, only ashes settling within him.
“Reg?” hesitantly, as quietly as it should never sound, Barty called out.
“What's the matter?” Evan frowns, “we mustn't stop.”
And Pandora looks at him with her deep, incredible eyes that slowly fill with tears as she shakes her head.
“Go ahead," he cuts her off and before they can start arguing, he adds, "I know how Bella fights, I can handle it. Keep walking and don't look back.”
“Fuck," Barty growls, trying to break free of the girl's grip, "no way, you complete idiot!”
Regulus takes a deep breath, gives Crouch a forehead flick full of love, turns round and runs towards Bellatrix. He ignores the call to his back, which quickly fades into silence and then only the rustle of grass, growing quieter and quieter, sounds in the forest.
For a moment he stands alone, not a sound around him. His throat is so dry it hurts to swallow at all. Sweat drips down the back of his neck, his hands clench and unclench into fists. Regulus tries to calm himself so he can concentrate, but he knows it's a sure-fire mission.
Finally he hears the approaching stomping of one pair of feet and knows it's not his friends. Slowly he exhales and looks ahead, hoping he doesn't look as lousy as he feels. Doesn't look like he's terrified.
His cousin greets him with a wide smile. He doesn't let her say a word before throwing a curse aimed at crumbling her insides at her. A bombardment flies at him.
“Oh, evil little brother!” she laughs.
A familiar purple flash flies so close it steals his breath, but he ignores the sickening feeling and fights for time for his family.
He loses, unsurprisingly, but smirks victoriously when he sees that Bella has stopped smirking, instead looking at him tensely.
“I'm going to have a lot of fun with you.”
***
The Dark Lord's dungeon is as cold as his body. His breath comes out wheezing as he feels his ribs move against each other after a particularly kind visit from a dear cousin. Thankfully, the master himself hadn't turned up, and why should he when his curly-haired doggie would do the dirty work admirably?
He tried to get out, but it's hard to get beyond the "completely ineffective" mark when all he has left are his bare hands and the hope of successful wandless magic. His body was shivering, his fingernails were filthy with dirt and blood, and there was no point in getting rid of it - it would reappear in the evening, but his throat hurt the most - he didn't even want to think about the cause, even if it was painfully obvious.
Despite all the torture, twisted and painful not only on the physical but also on the mental level, Regulus endures it as best he can, which is a shame, but he has no one to keep up an image for, he will meet his death here anyway. One warming thought is that his family managed to escape and Bella looks worse and worse, there must be no way the search is going to succeed and for that alone Regulus teases her for as long as he can talk (which, to his deep regret, doesn't happen for very long. After all, it's amazingly easy to get rid of a tongue when its owner is already weak enough).
He is just getting one of the few pleasures in the disgusting cell - the coolness of the stone floor on his fresh wounds, albeit dirty and blissfully cold, when the door higher up the stairs creaks welcomingly with what sounds like a harsh, witches' laugh.
“Oh, my sweet little brother!” cackles Bellatrix, all radiant, “I have a surprise for you!”
The indistinguishable figures of the Death Eaters, completely hidden by their clothes, lead the three people following, the sight of which makes Regulus suppress a pitiful sob.
“Long time no see, Reg," Barty drawled, as if his nose was stuffed up, "new look? Doesn't suit you very well, mate.”
Black shakes his head disbelievingly but can't get his body to rise, which, unsurprisingly, is noticed by his friends he's been trying so desperately to save. The only silver lining in this whole incredibly nightmarish situation is that they're back together.
The Death Eaters throw the trio into a separate cell, but thank bloody fate, at least it's next door to Regulus. Those land with a wheeze, but that's their only drawback at the moment.
“I'll be back to visit you kids!" Bella said falsely and walked away, accompanied by the Eaters.
The silence between the four lasts only a brief moment before the three new arrivals begin to apologise, swear and almost sob, but all Regulus can offer them in response is a quiet moo and a sad, small smile.
“Reg?” Evan calls out uncertainly, worried.
The other two fall silent in a moment, but get no dickish reply. Instead, Regulus crawls up to the bars between them as close as he can and beckons them to do the same. Opening his mouth, there is no tongue.
Pandora sighs suppressedly, covering her mouth with her hands in horror. Evan freezes as if he's not breathing at all. And Barty breaks out in a wild, angry, profanity-laden rant. Regulus reaches through the bars and squeezes their fingers in his, looking sad.
He has nothing more to offer.
***
Things get worse if they have somewhere to get even worse.
Bellatrix is a sadistic bitch who has found a better pastime than torturing Regulus directly.
Why, when she has the three most important people to him lying on a golden platter right in front of her eyes? The girl grins widely.
Regulus... not sure at what point he realised it was okay to scream without a tongue. It must have been the moment when Barty's hand, his leading hand, lost one, then two, three... all of its fingers.
Crouch hold on…held on well until, along with it, a sharp crucio pierced his body, gentle in its sadism, cold as the biggest glacier. It hurt to watch it.
Barty should be strong, indestructible. He's supposed to smile through all the pain, through all the difficulties presented by life, but this is over the top. It seems like a cruel mockery, like a nightmare unbelievable in its savagery.
He is thrown into a cell as soon as he is played with. Regulus doesn't realise he's crying until the bitch points it out.
There must be enchantments against magic in the dungeon, because there isn't a world where Regulus wouldn't kill for it. Wouldn't make her suffer a hundred times more.
Evan shakes, stroking Crouch's hair gently, even as he barely reacts, even as he hunches over to throw up what little he had in his stomach. Pandora swoons beside him, gently touching every part of his weak body, as if trying to remind him that there is also love in this cruel world created by Regulus' fucking cousin. And he himself sits in the other cell, unable to do anything but swallow pathetic sobs, unable even to speak.
They spend a long, agonising time like this while Barty comes to his senses. When he finally falls into Evan's lap and sighs heavily, they allow themselves to loosen the tight grip on his entire body.
“Oh, fuck," Crouch whispers hoarsely and then coughs, "what a fuck.”
And neither of them can say anything against it.
***
None of them can sleep that night.
They crawled as close as they could to the bars separating them. Barty flinches every now and then - the remnants of crucio - and only in the silence between them does she allow herself a quiet whimper, the suppressed sounds of pain.
Regulus would like to say even the most useless soothing nonsense, but can only moo pitifully and hold their fingers in his hands, cold and dirty.
Pandora and Evan speak for him and Barty, fill the space between them, tensely quiet, know that neither of them will sleep, can't, that's all.
His chest aches. And he knows this is just the beginning.
The beginning of their end.
***
Crouch's fingers remain the only victim for a while. Unfortunately, it was obvious that it couldn't last too long.
Bellatrix chose Evan as the next object of her attention.
Crooked hands, trembling with anticipation, reach for Rosier.
Barty forwards lunging in a way that could have broken bones, stopped only by Pandora. His lack of fingers he is clearly willing to compensate with his teeth. After all, what could be more dangerous than a bite from an enraged man who knows no measure? Unfortunately for him, Pandora holds Barty from his back and hides her face in his shoulder, trembling shallowly, unable to look.
Regulus cannot look away. Doesn't dare to do so. His mouth is dry. He hopes that suddenly, at this very moment, the stares might suddenly start to kill. That would be helpful.
Evan is thrown roughly into the space in front of the stairs. It's worth giving him credit, he tries to fight back. Too bad it's all for nothing.
Rosier lunges forward, grabs Bellatrix by the legs and pulls her sharply towards him in the hope of bringing her down, but that's just the instincts of a cornered beast ruled by fear. Eventually, there are three more Death Eaters with them, who easily paw him in such a way that there is a cry of pain.
Barty is cursing somewhere off to the side, but Regulus can't look at him. All his attention is on Evan. Bellatrix grimaces in disgust, stepping away from him, her hand clutching her wand so tightly that it turns white.
“I wanted to be gentle with you, maybe... You have a pretty face," she pulls thoughtfully, but there's a dangerous rage swirling dangerously beneath the surface, "but I think it gave me a new idea.”
Regulus doesn't dare even breathe. He hears Barty holding back sobs. Pandora is deathly silent.
For a moment nothing happens, the silence seems almost blissful. It doesn't last long.
A high, painful howl fills the entire space around him, most likely audible even from outside. It is joined by sharp laughter and the sound of dripping blood. Regulus doesn't think his heart is beating, not now.
The stone floor slowly but surely gathers a sticky puddle under the two men's feet. The heavy thud of knees making contact with the floor sounds deafeningly loud.
“Oh, come on! You've got another one left," Bellatrix grumbles, scrutinising the eyeball, "well, not for long.”
Regulus doesn't dare look away.
***
The night after Evan is hard. Neither of them can get a word out. Barty breathes deliberately deep, stubbornly holding himself together while his shoulder muffles the other boy's sobs. Regulus' whole body aches as he looks at them. His hand reaches out as far as it can, touching Evan's foot with his fingertips. Pandora lies behind the boy, holding onto his clothes, dirty… bloody and torn.
The moon shines from the pitiful upstairs window, as if mocking their misery. If there are Gods, they turned their backs on them long ago.
Regulus still can't take his eyes off Evan. They have bandaged him as best they can, but the bandages are already soaked with blood.
He wonders how long it will be before they are infected.
He wonders how long it will take to kill them.
They don't speak that night.
***
Each of them is afraid of what will happen next. Pandora is the only girl in their collective and the only one who has been unharmed so far. It's not hard to guess that it's her turn.
Their imaginations are good. Which only makes it all the more sickening. A frustrated, tortured brain can surmise many things and spin their ideas in ways that seemed impossible. Every one of them is terrifying.
Evan is holding on with difficulty. He can no longer navigate the already unsafe space. He doesn't move away from Barty, nor does he make any attempt to let go of either of them. His arms are wrapped tightly around the others' elbows.
Regulus feels abandoned, but they sit close to him as often as they can. It's still cold.
Pandora looks at Regulus, and he realises that she already knows what will happen to her. With them, probably too. The girl is paler than ever before, almost sickly, hardly transparent at all.
“You'll have to turn away," she wrinkles her nose, looking at Evan. He doesn't need either. Her voice is hoarse with tears, "and covers your ears. You can't see what's going to happen to me, okay?”
Even the suggestion of it seems impossible.
“No way," the two who can speak reply.
Evan blunders over to look at Pandora. No one is talking about it.
“You guys don't understand,” she whispers desperately, “don't you dare, do you hear me? It's going to be bad, really bad, so I'm asking you, don't look, don't listen. For my sake. Please.”
The night before the event, Pandora whispers to them of her love. Her voice breaks, trembling like never before, fading. The singing before the end. The last sunny, warm days before the frost.
Her words are soft and sensual, perfectly hiding the splashing terror behind them. The girl's eyes are closed, but if they were open, they would surely be full of tears that glisten in the darkness of the cell, streaming down her dirty cheeks. Barty wipes them away with a trembling hand. They ignore Pandora's flinch.
Regulus holds her hand through the bars.
The girl says nothing but good things. So only the worst is ahead.
***
Bellatrix comes in, flashing a wide grin. In her hands are sharp needles that make her chest grow cold. Suddenly it's impossible to breathe.
“I hope you had time to say goodbye, little ones!” she laughs, and Pandora is violently pulled outside.
Barty tries to hold her down, endeavours to bite the enemy's arms, to kick them so that the bones break, but all in vain. He stays locked up and she stays outside, but freedom is so far away from each of them.
Don't look.
Don't listen.
Regulus can't move, can't look away the same way he used to with Evan. Barty keeps up with him, rattling the bars, but those are as hard as they were all the days before.
please
“It'll be wonderful, love, don't be afraid," Bellatrix pats Pandora's cheek as Regulus once did.
He wants to rip her throat out, rip out her guts and leave her to bleed to death.
Don't look. Don't listen.
Bellatrix falls silent as Pandora spits in her face. Regulus feels a vague pride in his chest. It won't last long, he knows.
Through Barty's screams and Evan's insults, the pounding of Pandora's knees against the stone floor is barely audible, but echoes in his ears. The girl swallows loudly but raises her head confidently, looking into Bellatrix's angry eyes. The latter snorts irritably.
“Don't look at me so haughty, little girl, you're the worse of the two of us," the Death Eater grinned as Pandora was grabbed by her arms and stepped on her hips, holding her in place.
All that's missing is a dog collar to complete the humiliation. But Pandora holds steady... until a rough hand clamps her chin, preventing her from moving her head.
The needles shine too brightly.
Pandora's eyes settle on them, just for a moment.
don’tlookdon’tlisten
He turns away and covers his ears.
Out of the corner of his eye he notices Evan covering Barty's eyes, which stubbornly stands still.
He can still hear the screams, no matter how hard he covers his ears. It's just that at some point, a high, pain-filled voice is joined by a ringing.
He doesn't dare relax.
But he knows exactly the moment when silence comes.
And knows exactly what the sound of a body falling to the ground sounds like.
And the sound of Barty's choking sobs.
“Oh, sorry," Bellatrix laughs.
Numb hands fall to her knees. Regulus turns and swallows down the approaching vomit.
Pandora's face is bloody. Her eyes are closed, needles lying on the floor.
Evan's voice is deafening in the sudden silence, "What, what happened?"
It doesn't take long for the realisation to reach him.
Regulus hadn't realised until that moment that it was possible to cry without eyes. Evan proved it back.
Barty screams loudly, shrilly. Cursing them, Bellatrix especially, which is no surprise. Some surprisingly creative threats of reprisal come into play.
Regulus can't take his eyes off the body.
“Shut the fuck up!” Bellatrix shrieks and grabs him.
His heart sinks. It seemed impossible for it to pound in panic anymore, but there it is.
Evan's voice is quickly coloured by pure desperation, Regulus can't move.
Barty freezes as the wand is pointed at his face.
“Fuck," is all he whispers.
Bellatrix laughs.
Barty falls next to Pandora with a loud crunch.
“Reg?” whispers Evan, who has crawled by feel to the bars between them.
Regulus grabs his hand.
He can't take his eyes away. They are dry.
He squeezes Evan's hand tighter as he begins to sob quietly.
“Come on, come here, little one," Bellatrix murmurs, beckoning him with her finger.
Funny, she seems to have forgotten how she took his eyes herself.
She steps into the cell and pulls Evan to her. Regulus grips his hand tighter. Screams echo in his head. He can't let go.
“Regulus," her voice is cold, "come on.”
He shakes his head, looking at her pleadingly.
Leave someone alone, at least. Stop it.
Please.
***
He's ripped from his body, can't even feel it anymore. All he can do is stare numbly at Bellatrix. The thought slips in that she wasn't so cruel as a child. Her grey eyes, glittering with malicious satisfaction, sweep over his entire body with contempt and pity.
The only favour she grants is throwing the corpses of his friends into his cell.
Finally, after a long time of torture, he is able to touch them. His skin goes cold, quickly and inexorably.
One wants to cry.
Their eyes, always looking at Regulus with love and tenderness, surprising even after so long together, are closed. It's as if they are about to open them and look at him. Regulus leans down so that his forehead rests against Barty's chest while his hand holds the soiled sleeve of Pandora's robes, he can't reach Evan unfortunately. There is silence under Barty's skin, deafening and so awful.
“How sweet," his relative smiles and it seems like this isn't the perfect moment to finally kill him? To end his suffering now that every emotion in him has been killed and he will no longer be a pleasure to watch the show.
But Bella doesn't. She comes closer and pats him on the cheek a couple of times, like a particularly obedient dog. Then she walks away.
Time passes, and he perishes. The food and water they bring him is bad enough as it is, but now there is no point in him even trying to keep himself alive. His life has been taken with them.
His chest aches.
Barty is cold beneath him.
It must have been a while.
He reaches for Pandora - cold.
Despair stiffens his body as he rushes to Evan, but he's cold too.
It can't be that they've robbed him of their warmth so quickly, can it?
He stares at them, hard and wild.
His throat tightens.
We're going to die together, or not die at all.
Has he not been part of that "together"?
He wants to die, too.
He reaches for Evan, the closest, and hides his face in the folds of his clothes. Cold, cold, cold, coldcoldcoldcoldcoldcoldcold why so cold they're always warm
He reaches for Barty. The one has started to radiate heat ever since he studied the Fiendfyre, it must be that the others just froze, right, and Barty is always...
Cold.
And in this loop, he wasn't studying the Fiendfyre.
Ah.
Maybe Pandora could look into the past, too? See why they're so cold...
Regulus rolls to the side, leans into the very corner of the cage, and vomits so much he's about to lose all his guts. Inside, everything turns upside down, clenching and throbbing. It hurts, it hurts, hurtshurtshurts.
The breath comes out with a heavy wheeze.
He lifts his empty head to the pathetic window above, covered by a grille. The moon shines brightly.
“Merlin and Morgana, Godric, Salazar, Rowena and Helga, Dumbledore or whoever the fuck is God in this miserable world,” he folds his hands in prayer and closes his eyes, “please let me die. Let me be with them.”
The moon is as cold as they are, and he is traitorously alive.
Desperate, trembling eyes inspect every surface, but..
There is nothing in the cell for him to kill himself with.
Bellatrix arrives just as he's thinking of gnawing his veins with his teeth.
“You look bad, little brother," she laughs.
“I hope the crows peck your eyes out while you're feeling all this,” he growls, hovering over one of the bodies, “I hope every person you hold dear is slowly killed while you watch helplessly, and then you're fed their meat so you die with nausea inside you, you miserable creature.”
His voice is shaky and hoarse, but the girl blinks in surprise for a moment.
“Cute!” She laughs.
And his insides begin to burn.
He collapses with a howl as piercing as Evan once screamed. Insects crawl over his skin, eating through his skin and settling into his flesh, swarming there. His eyes burn and burn and burn. He can feel the moisture on his cheeks and thinks they might as well start leaking out, but unfortunately he can still clearly see Bellatrix.
He can't move. He is only a shell of a pathetic, broken man, and even then he is only a husk, as pathetic as his whole damned family.
He dies with a sigh of relief.
***
And opens his eyes in Grimmauld Place.
Wild eyes search the room around him, still not feeling comfortable in his skin, even now that it's blissfully clean. He sees his wand lying nearby.
Grabs it and points it at his face.
“Avada Kedavra.”
***
And opens his eyes in Grimmauld Place.
But he will get what he wants. Nothing else in the world matters. He wants peace.
The wand is between his eyes.
“Avada Kedavra.”
***
And opens his eyes in Grimmauld Place.
He frowns unhappily, despair consuming every cell of his pathetic being.
Footsteps rumble outside the door.
“Avada Kedavra.”
***
And opens his eyes in Grimmauld Place.
He points his wand between his eyes.
“Avada…”
The door to his room opens with such furious force that it flies forward until it hits the wall behind him with a thud.
Pandora stares at him furious, lips formed in a snarl, Barty and Evan looming behind.
“...kedavra.”
***
And opens his eyes in Grimmauld Place.
He frowns at the door, but, following his new routine, grabs his wand.
Points it between his eyes.
The door opens abruptly, Pandora rushing towards him.
“Regulus, you bastard..!”
“Stop!” Barty and Evan shout.
But he's already being swallowed up by icy green magic.
***
And opens his eyes in Grimmauld Place.
The door is off its hinges.
The wand is already in his hand.
Pandora grabs his shoulder.
Barty reaches for his hand..
***
And opens his eyes in Grimmauld Place.
He hesitates, looking at the wand and the door flying off its hinges.
“You're a complete twat, Regulus Arcturus Black!” Pandora shrieks.
“Quartering you bastard isn't enough!” Barty joins in.
“What the fuck are you thinking?” Evan adds.
He's thinking how nice it is to not be alive..
***
And opens his eyes in Grimmauld Place.
The blow of a fist right on his cheek disorients him for a moment.
Barty sits on top of him with burning eyes.
“What the fuck are you thinking?” he repeats after Evan from last night's loop.
Regulus himself didn't notice that his wand was already in his hand..
***
And opens his eyes in Grimmauld Place.
Pandora is sobbing, and Barty and Evan are not far behind her.
***
And opens his eyes in Grimmauld Place.
“Stop it.”
***
“Stop..”
***
“Come on, Reggie..”
***
“This isn't the way out.”
“Just talk to us.”
***
“Please..”
***
“At least look at us, you bastard!”
***
“Don't we matter to you?”
***
And opens his eyes in Grimmauld Place.
Pandora snatches up his wand and struggles so hard not to break it in two.
Her cheeks are stained with incessant tears, a reflection of Barty and Evan.
“Will you please come with us?”
He closes his eyes.
***
And doesn't open them in Grimmauld Place.
They're in the woods. He doesn't run - he's being carried.
It's cold.
He can't close his eyes. He looks into Barty's eyes, shimmering in the sunlight, deep and beautiful and alive.
They hold him very tightly, as if afraid to let go.
And they run for a long time, but he can't follow it for too long, sinking into the depths of his mind just so he doesn't have to think so hard. But he doesn't close his eyes, doesn't dare.
And they notice, of course. They didn't pull him out of death's clutches for him to die simply because he dares not close his eyes.
But he refuses, as if his life depended on it. He doesn't dare, he can't, he won't.
They're knocking him out.
(Bitches)
***
It didn't get any easier.
He'd strive to act more bitchy if he had a little more will to live in him, which, by the way, he doesn't have at all, so, yeah. Poor them.
He stays still and hopes he gets his wand back. Or borrow it from one of them, but the dark avada spell draws a lot of attention to them, even if he only needs it for a second.
He doesn't eat or drink unless begged.
He doesn't live.
And Pandora holds him.
And holds him.
And holds him.
If she doesn't do it, Barty or Evan does. Or together.
It's getting a little warm.
***
They must have gone on the run again, but this time, pushed by emotion, more unprepared.
That's not good.
They're running again.
He's moving, panting. His legs ache, but he is held tightly by his hand and desperately dragged forward.
Sparks of spells fly past, the ground rattles around him.
He stumbles, nearly falling. His strength is failing him fast.
***
He opens his eyes in Grimmauld Place.
He reaches for his wand out of habit, but his wrist is in a gentle grip. Pandora looks surprisingly lousy. However, so do Barty and Evan.
He is forced up.
He obediently moves to follow.
They are not noticed this time.
He doesn't realise they're going anywhere in particular until he notices the silhouette of a familiar village.
His memories of it are not good.
The more interesting question is how Pandora knows this path, if in this time loop they aren't even close to travelling to Finley yet.
Dry lips open awkwardly and a quiet voice interrupts the silence between them, long and tense:
“Where did you…”
“Shut up," Pandora barks surprisingly viciously.
It hurts a little, but he only sighs.
“I'm mad at you. We're all angry," she says more calmly.
“Oh..” he hunches over, but his hand is still in a tight grip.
“Actually, no. We're worried,” Pandora mutters without looking back.
“Oh.”
***
Healing is a long process, but this time they have more time that they don't waste within the walls of Hogwarts on useless worrying.
Finley is blissfully alive and smiling in a way that makes youth settle on his scarred face. Miriam is just as wary of them as she was the first time last time, and Henry... just Henry. Just as active and unbearably sweet.
Regulus stands by the cliff, surrounded by his family and takes his first breath.
At night, especially at first, every time he closes his eyes he wakes up to nightmares filled with rivers of blood, the smell of iron and the taste of it on the tip of his tongue. He hears the evil laughter echoing from every direction, growing louder and louder until it becomes a continuous ringing through which the cruel, cold words of those he loves can be heard.
He wakes up to the sound of his own screaming that he can't be strangled, and spends the rest of the night desperately clinging to his family, listening to their heartbeat and keeping a hand on their pulse to make sure they're alive. Sometimes it's not enough, but they try.
They spend their days helping the village and just... existing. In peace and comfort as best they can at the moment. Pandora strokes his hair, Evan rests his head on his shoulder, and Barty nestles his feet in his lap.
Regulus moo sleepily and realises he can feel a smile on his cheeks.
Bad days still happen.
Days when he finds it hard not to look at his wand, his hand just longs to grab it and whisper the cherished spell, but his family is quickly learning to make sense of his every micro-expression, so they realise when it's not safe to hand him his wand. Slowly but surely, the villagers begin to recognise this too, becoming like a second home to them, a warm, Muggle home.
They spend a long six months with the Gorn family, but it is enough for Regulus to realise that the weight of past loops has loosened the knot around his neck, that he is lighter at heart and smiles more often than he thinks about the benefits of the afterlife.
He breathes in the sea air, savours the coolness of the breeze on his skin and wants to live.
***
Malfoy Manor rises majestically before his gaze, impregnable and mysterious. Just looking at it made his breath catch and his chest fill with a mixture of elation, nervousness and anticipation.
He had waited too long for this moment. Allowed himself to dream of it on dark nights, when his thoughts seemed especially distant and free of other people's influence.
Regulus moves along the hedge, passing the iron gate that kindly opened in front of his very face.
At the front door he is greeted by Narcissa, smiling welcomingly. She looks as gorgeous as she has in every memory Regulus has that is filled with warmth and love for his cousin, the best of the three sisters that was closest to him.
“Regulus!” she begins joyfully, almost glowing, "how long was it?”
With warmth in his heart he embraces his favourite cousin, breathing in her native scent. Gentle hands stroke his back, pulling him closer to her.
“Too long," he replies, looking at the girl.
Marriage suits Narcissa. Her already lovely flowing hair of incredible beauty shines with health, intricately braided. Her eyes are soft and full of love, so bright it makes you want to squeeze your eyes shut. A smile stretches her thin lips.
“How is Lucius?” Regulus asks as he walks with his cousin into the living room.
“Marvellous!” She smiles, hesitating only for a moment, tucking her hair behind her ear in embarrassment, “considering the situation, of course.”
The two of them take a seat in the soft armchairs by the blazing fireplace. Regulus sighs wistfully, ready to interrupt the gentle atmosphere between them.
“How are you, little prince?” Narcissa precedes him with a huff, “I haven't heard from you in so long. I've been worried.”
Warmth blooms in my chest like flowers at the height of spring. A smile involuntarily appears on his face, unfortunately also quickly disappearing. His cousin looks at him with such care and concern that it's hard not to remember how much he loved her, long ago, when they spent more time together.
“That's actually why I'm here," he replies with annoyance, "I need your help, Cissa.”
Reluctantly, Regulus stands up and, coming closer, sits down on his knees at his cousin's feet. She looks at him perplexed, with suspicion in her deep eyes. It makes a prick of pain pierce his heart, but Regulus realises he would have done the same, so he can't blame the girl. On the contrary, along with a share of resentment, he feels proud of her, ready to defend herself and her family.
Even if that family has to be someone like Lucius.
“I'm listening.”
“I want to destroy the Dark Lord," he shares a deep secret as he watches the stunned expression on the girl's face, "listen to me, please. I know that Lucius is in his ranks. But there's a problem here: the Dark Lord has Horcruxes. If you had any information about them, you would help me a lot.”
“What Horcruxes?”
Regulus sighs. Unfortunately, this magic is really rare, so it's not surprising that even his brilliant cousin doesn't know about it. He wishes he could keep it that way, that she didn't know about such an eerie darkness existing in the world, but unfortunately, he needs help more than he needs Narcissa's innocence preserved.
So reluctantly, he explains and watches the disgust and horror appear on the lovely face, aging by several years as the girl exhales in horror.
“And what do you expect me to do, Regulus?” she whispers, as if someone might hear them.
“Ask Lucius. Tell him what you think he needs to know. Look in the Malfoy library. Whatever you can do,” he stops talking for a moment and considers his next suggestion.
Is he willing to expose his cousin to the danger in his proposal?
The answer is unfortunately obvious and simple: yes.
“Try asking Bellatrix... careful that she doesn't realise anything, but maybe the Dark Lord was talking to her about something important, something great?”
Narcissa looks at him with attentive, sharp eyes. Her hand gently touches his cheek, holding him. It brings back unpleasant memories, but Regulus doesn't move as he is scrutinised.
Finally the girl nods.
“I'll see what I can do. And then I'll contact you.”
He couldn't have wished for anything more.
***
Contacting Andromeda turns out to be more difficult than Regulus thought, but eventually the letter is delivered to the recipient with success. It turns out that finding his third cousin, tucked away in the Muggle world, isn't so easy.
Going to see her turns out to be more nerve-wracking than going to see her sister, but no less welcome. He hasn't seen Andromeda in what seems like an eternity. Her voice, once crystal clear in his mind, has long since been erased from his memory as well as she from his family's history. This only makes a greater anticipation fill the body.
If one didn't know better, one wouldn't be able to tell from the outside that the girl who opened the door was a member of the Black family. That's not entirely true though, after all, she's married already.
It's nice to know that there are relatives in this thrice God-damned family who are happy. Who knew that all it took was leaving the family and cutting all ties with them.
“Regulus!” Andromeda smiles, opening her arms welcomingly, as if there had been no silence between them, no burnt tapestries and caustic, venom-filled words of farewell.
He enters them with an unaccustomed shyness, hiding his face in the girl's fluffy jumper as she laughs, calling him kitten to herself. Regulus squeezes her hand tentatively for it, completely ignored.
“Oh, how I missed you, baby,” she whispers softly, “you really surprised me.”
“I'm so, so sorry," he mumbles, hiding his face in his clothes, "our family is a bunch of jerks, so sorry this happened to you.”
Andromeda laughs and pulls him into the cozy little house, smiling widely.
“What happened wasn't your fault. And you know what, baby?” she winks slyly as squeaky childish laughter erupts upstairs, “if I hadn't been kicked out of the family then, I wouldn't have stayed with Ted, and my little girl wouldn't even be a thought.”
“You have a daughter?” he asks in surprise, unable to comprehend the fact.
“Nymphadora! Come down here for a minute!”
For a moment, he is swallowed by the loudness of his cousin's voice, squinting, to which he receives a shy smile. The stomping grows louder until a girl of about seven whirls into the room, scowling demonstratively. She is followed by the father of the family.
“Mum! How many times have I told you not to call me that!” she said in a thin voice, stomping her foot.
“Nymphadora Tonks!” Andromeda grumbles, but shakes her head in favour of introducing her daughter to Regulus, "Meet your uncle, Regulus. Ted, this is Reggie, my cousin. Reggie, this is Ted, the love of my life.”
Regulus waves under the intense, appraising gaze of the girl, whose hair changes colour from bright pink to his black, and shakes hands with her cousin's husband. Nymphadora examines him closely, unwittingly copying her father before seeming to just take him for granted. That doesn't mean he can exhale in relief.
“And where were you before?” Nymphadora indignantly points a finger at him, “you owe me seven presents for every holiday you miss! Got it?”
While Ted seems to hold back his laughter and look somewhat sympathetic, Andromeda is about to rebuke her daughter again, but Regulus throws back his head and laughs, unable to control himself. He already loves this feisty little girl, who looks remotely like Barty. Just as bright and fiery. He already sees her as the future storm of the magical world.
“Got it," he smiles broadly and enjoys the child's contented squeal.
It takes a while for Nymphadora to get tired enough of him to run back upstairs doing nothing. That's enough time for Regulus to realise how much he's missed out by being absent from Andromeda and her family's lives. He was now determined with certainty that he would do everything he could to keep this marvellous little girl alive.
“I'm sorry I've been gone so long," he says guiltily, not daring to look his cousin in the eye, but he sees her shake her head.
“Don't worry, baby. Better later than never," Andromeda replies confidently.
“Although I'm thrilled to meet Nymphadora, I'm not just here for our wonderful reunion," he says, and sees the girl wary, "I want to destroy the Dark Lord, and I want to know if you'll help me.”
Andromeda stares at him silently for a moment, squinting at him for what seems like an eternity. She glanced at Ted, who shrugged uncertainly, as if to let her decide.
“I'll help," she finally says, but before he can settle down in relief, she continues, "but I won't be on the front lines. I won't leave my daughter an orphan.”
Ted pales with horror at the thought, and if looks could kill, Regulus wouldn't be here now. Thankfully, Andromeda catches her husband's gaze and waves a hand at him reassuringly.
“No way!” Regulus exclaims fervently, "I wouldn't dare ask you to do that. I need help finding information.”
“I'm all ears.”
***
Fiendfyre swirls around Barty as he chuckles as the spell bends to his will. His hands are covered in burns, but it's worth it when the dark magic follows his instructions at the slightest movement of his wand. It galvanises even Regulus, who takes no part in it, but can't contain his wide grin and burgeoning pride.
Fireballs rise into the air, so large it seems as if it's sunset, though it's not.
Regulus sits next to Pandora, leaning on her shoulder and sighing dreamily.
“What's the matter, star?” She smiles, nudging him with her elbow.
“Just thinking about how well things are working out,” Regulus replies, watching Barty run towards them, “hey Crouch, you almost didn't burn anything!'”
Crouch smirks and pulls him by the ear until he has to fend off attacks from Regulus, who doesn't dare tolerate being treated like that.
He finally joins them, falling on his back and looking up at the sky, legs stretched out on Regulus and Pandora's legs.
“Hey, Barty?”
The man moo's, showing he's listening.
“We all realise there's going to be at least one more loop, right?” Regulus asks, watching the frown appear on their faces, but his friends don't protest as much as they could.
Unfortunately, as much as they don't like it, Black knows he's right. He dedicates this loop to finding information and connections as tightly as he can so he doesn't waste time on it next time.
“Let's just say so, even though it’s frustrating.”
“How do you control the fyre?” he asks, hoping for something useful.
Barty opens one eye and taps the ground beneath him thoughtfully.
“Tell the other me to think of his mother.”
Regulus stares attentively at the other boy, blinking a couple of times in surprise. It's not often either of them talk about their rotten families, and to hear Crouch at least mention a dead mother is worth a lot. Apparently it's too important to him, thinking about her helps him take control of the dark spell.
“Which is what?” Regulus insists, and he sees Barty frown.
“He will understand.”
He wants to keep pushing until Crouch breaks down and tells him what it's all about, but Regulus bites his tongue. Barty's walls have risen so that he prepares to defend himself and more than likely spit venom back and, while the desire for answers is great, more than that Black wants to avoid disturbing dangerous topics.
He nods and turns to Pandora to complain about what Potter did the other day.
***
Dumbledore is still stupidly, idiotically vague, nothing can wipe the good-natured smile off his face as he talks to Regulus. And this time the Slytherin doesn't plan on chatting with him for longer than he should, not to his last loop. He already has all the information he needs from the director.
But deep down, he is able to admit to himself that sometimes, on particularly warm evenings, it is nice to sit in the director’s office and drink tea with him, stubbornly ignoring the looming threat of war.
Eventually Dumbledore does rejoin their training sessions. Less and less often as time goes on, but he tries to snatch a moment of free time and help them out.
Soon Regulus notices that he is involuntarily starting to think about his happy memory.
This doesn't mean he becomes able to summon a patronus, not at all, but he devotes more thought to it than before.
Even though many of his memories are clouded, he tries.
***
One day he visits Hogwarts and, going unnoticed, sneaks into the house elves' kitchen.
There is commotion there, at least to his eyes. A multitude of creatures are running from one side to the other, talking amongst themselves. Some have soup simmering in front of them, others have a timer ringing, neat hands pulling out a mountain of spiced buns. Others are running around with a broom and sweeping up dirt.
None of them have bumped into anyone, so they must know exactly who is supposed to be doing what.
Regulus hesitantly coughs, drawing the attention of the elves closest to him. Those squeak in surprise and draw the attention of those standing nearby. And further down the chain, the entire kitchen turns its attention to him, dazed and motionless.
“Um..." he swallows, trying to suppress his nerves. It's not working out so well. “Hello..?”
Instantly each of the elves start beeping and bowing to him, a bunch of exclamations of 'master' coming from different directions and Regulus thinks his head is going to explode if they don't shut up or start talking quieter.
“Excuse me!” he shouts.
There is blissful silence.
“I'm sorry to interrupt," he continues quietly, while hundreds of attentive eyes full of awe stare at him alone, "but I really need your help…”
“Of course the Hogwarts elves will help you, Master!” squeaks the elf closest to him and a murmur of agreement revitalises the kitchen again, “what can the elves do for you?”
“Nothing serious, really!” he states confidently and adds a note of vulnerability to his voice, “I was just wondering if any of you have felt any dark magic at Hogwarts by any chance? Like... really, really dark?”
“There's no such thing at Hogwarts!”
“Master Dumbledore made sure of that!”
“It's perfectly safe here!”
“The Master must be ill to think about it!”
Regulus raises his hands in defeat and is about to leave, but a very quiet, embarrassed voice booms through the crowd so clearly that it instantly gets all of his attention.
“Ginky actually felt very evil magic once!” the elf squeaks and hides her face in her hands as soon as everyone looks at her, “Ginky was just about to clean the corridor of the eighth floor, she was walking along the wall, cleaning the dirt... you see, master, almost nobody walks there, and there is so much dust... and Ginky always cleaned there... so Ginky was cleaning and suddenly felt such dark magic that she was scared! But it was behind the wall, so..”
Suddenly another elf interrupts the gibbering Ginky, and she finally takes a breath of air.
“Ginky goes up to the older elves and tells them about it. There's a room of Requirement on that floor that appears when the master is needed. The elves didn't dare investigate it, but Master Dumbledore said it was under control and the elves had nothing to worry about.”
Regulus nods thoughtfully, thanks the extremely helpful creatures, and leaves, stuffed with puffed scones, having barely agreed to take just four rather than the whole tray.
***
He dares not, and cannot, go home. Grimmauld Place is like a forbidden place to which he has placed a barrier for himself. Though his childhood there was comfortable enough, thanks in large part to his older brother's protection, now the mere thought of home is like a nightmare.
When he thinks of home, he imagines not Grimmauld Place, but a small, abandoned cottage in the woods, in another country, hidden from view by thick trees. When he thinks of pain, he remembers loneliness with Walburga and Orion, whose gazes burned his skin and made him feel worthless.
When he thinks of family, he doesn't picture people with black, darkness-like hair and grey eyes that pulled him into their icy depths. He sees images so different but native: shining snow-white hair, a toothy grin, gentle hands.
His ears pick up faint rumours of the Dark Lord, which grows stronger, and his back tenses. They must be careful… the entire magical world must be. None of them know what awaits them, but they all know the darkness is near. And no one will be safe.
This time, however, Regulus takes a deep breath and forces himself to relax. This loop is about gathering information, and he's already set up for death. He's not afraid of her.
What he needs now is to figure out who he can trust.
***
Trusting the Gryffindors is easier this time than before. He already knows where their weaknesses lie. What they love and what they despise. He already knows that Sirius can be trusted, that his brother loves him, even if they haven't had a heart-to-heart talk with this version of him.
Just the thought of that, of how far he's come since the beginning settles something warm in his chest. Regulus caught himself smiling at his brother and his friends, who he was embarrassed to call his own. The important thing is that they don't find out about this.
The sun descends more and more, colouring the sky in unbelievably beautiful shades of red, pink, gold and red. A fire burns in their circle, filled with conversation and laughter, crackling and casting light on their faces.
Potter sits next to him, his warmth enveloping Regulus' entire being so that he feels wrapped in a duvet, surrounded by care and love. Turning around, he notices the attentive eyes staring back at him, eyes that seem impossibly deeper in the firelight, as if there is a fire burning in them themselves, sending shivers of goosebumps down his skin.
Slowly so that he has time to change his mind, James takes his hand and pulls him behind him to the side. They both ignore the howls of their friends who, God bless them, are quickly losing interest in their retreat.
A little further into the trees a small rivulet runs through, nimble and swift, splashing small droplets at them. In the distance sounds the laughter of their friends, carefree and happy. Their hands are still holding each other and the stars shine brightly above their heads.
James looks at Regulus with his deep eyes that reflect the universe itself and smiles softly at him. In the next instant, the Gryffindor leans lower and touches his nose with his own, sharing a single air.
“May I?” he whispers shyly into Regulus' very lips, as if he hasn't already violated any notion of personal space many times over.
“Absolute idiot,” Black answers him with a huff and grabs the back of his head, pulling him to him.
Their lips touch and some piece of the puzzle deep in his chest falls into place as firm but gentle hands hold him as if trying to merge together.
At some point they must part to take a breath of air, which, deeply regrettable, they both need vitally. Regulus feels a soft kiss on the top of his head and can't hold back an indignant mutter.
When they return to the others, Black throws his head back and laughs loudly, Evan tailing Barty, which might seem threatening, but both are smiling widely, lips suspiciously red.
Regulus also ignores when these same two throw mud at him, it's worth it to realise that they are the cause of his laughter. He attacks back with equal fervour, but is forced to declare defeat when he nearly chokes because he can't stop laughing.
He crouches down by the fire and sighs contentedly as Dora rests her head on his shoulder, watching their idiots lovingly, the Gryffindors joined in the battle as well.
Remus was the only one left with them, and he didn't stay long. Pettigrew shyly ran to the others, and Sirius, unsurprisingly, forcefully dragged Remus out, though he clearly wasn't putting up much of a fight.
***
The next time he and Narcissa meet is in a dark corner of a slanted alleyway.
Hidden in the shadows, invisible to human eyes, the girl reaches into the pocket of her bag, pulling out an unremarkable-looking book, shabby and old but so obviously important.
“It's a Horcrux," she whispers so quietly it's barely more than a breath, "Lucius was entrusted with it, so be careful, okay, little prince?”
“He'll be safe," Regulus answers her, "Lucius won't be in any danger, not from this.”
The cousin sighs convulsively, but nods finely. Her gaze doesn't break away from the boy, desperate and trembling.
“Bella didn't say anything that could be deciphered as useful,” she mutters, clutching her dark cloak tightly, “but she said she was the closest one to the Dark Lord, so if he trusted anything, it was definitely her.”
“Understood, thank you, Cissa," he replies and squeezes the girl's trembling hands in his, "I really appreciate it.”
His cousin hugs him briefly, clutching him tightly, and hurries away.
The wind carries her uncertain words.
“Be careful, little one.”
***
Regulus holds the diary tightly, ignoring the darkness whispering in his ear, and holds it up defiantly, showing his friends his find.
“Regulus, you idiot!” Pandora shrieks, lunging at him, "What if something had happened?”
Black doesn't hold back a wide grin and tosses the Horcrux to Crouch, who catches it in surprise.
“Come on, Barty, take action.”
They place the diary in the open where there are no obstacles to burn and move a decent distance away. Crouch kneads his hands and bounces impatiently in place. Nearby, Dumbledore stands warily, ready to help if anything goes wrong.
Finally the spell comes off Barty's lips and a torrent of wild, barely controlled fire rushes towards the Horcrux. The glittering flames twist wildly, throwing off sparks as an alarming screech is heard and a green glow rushes upwards, dissipating into the air.
Reluctantly, they move closer as the last swirls of fire fade away and look at the remains of the diary.
“I guess that's a success,” the director smiles broadly.
Habitually afterwards, they gather in a circle, elated with happiness, faces stretching smirks, and drunker than they've ever been in their lives.
They deserve it, damn it.
***
But all good things come to an end sooner or later.
So Regulus thinks he shouldn't be too surprised when it does this time too.
More and more often, obituaries are starting to appear in the Daily Prophet. More and more often they mention pureblood families, slowly but surely dying off alongside the Muggles.
They are straining, no doubt, but no one can fight the threat to Muggles. Not at the moment. But when purebloods are attacked, things get much more serious.
First they mention Dearborn. Then Fenwick, the Pruetts, and the Bones.
Regulus freezes for a moment when he sees the surname Meadows. The girl has studied with him and to realise that the people around him are mortal too is nightmarish. Though it would seem he should be used to it by now for all the loops that have passed.
And then the McKinnon family is mentioned in the paper, and Regulus realises that next time he needs to either finish off Voldemort before that date, or save this girl, because her death has hamstrung the Gryffindors.
In an instant, from tense but believing in the best, they become sombre in a way they've never been before. Reluctantly, with a voice full of grief, James explains that that girl was a close friend of theirs and such a strong person that her death seems like something wrong to them. Regulus doesn't try to console him, because there would be no better consolation than bringing her back to life, which he is powerless to do. Not now.
***
The only people around him are those closest to him - Evan, Barty and Pandora. Not a living soul for miles around.
They are right where they started many loops ago - at the abandoned cottage that doesn't smell of life now, not even close. No their little garden is there, no pile of books, no mountain of unfolded clothes and the smell of warm baking.
The wind ruffles his hair, whispers quiet reassurances in his ears. His legs feel like cotton wool, but he stands firm as only he can. Regulus swallows loudly in the silence between them and looks into the eyes of his family.
Those are sad, but their gaze carries a strong belief in him, in his strength, and in their future. In their victory, happiness, hope and love.
His heart hardens with confidence and determination.
He wraps his arms around his family, pretends not to notice their trembling shoulders and suspiciously moist eyes. They cling to him so tightly, as if they don't want to let go.
For these versions of his family, he disappears without a trace, but for future versions, he will bring victory.
He can't ignore them for long and still wipes the tears flowing down their cheeks, smiling gently. As gently as only their surroundings allow.
“This will be the last time," he whispers in a squeezed voice, catching the gaze of each of them, "from here on we will be happy and blissfully free.”
“Go on," Barty mutters, but determination settles in his eyes as it does in the others.
They have faith in his words, and it warms Regulus' soul like nothing else. He nods confidently as he watches the others repeat after him and wants to ask them to turn away, but he knows he dare not, and they would rather die than turn their backs on him in his last moments in this universe.
The war rattles in the background, but Regulus knows it won't last long.
He closes his eyes as sinister magic envelops his body and...