lelantus
He mechanically dressed, picking a high-collared and thick pair of black formal robes before moving to his dresser to place his family crest pin upon his breast and pin the neck shut. He combed his hair straight back, the way he hated most, and shined his leather boots until he could see his reflection in them.
His mind was completely empty as he dressed- he thinks it had been since the moment he found out he’d be faced with the Dark Lord tonight three days ago.
He’d been functioning on autopilot since then. He hadn’t eaten, slept, or done anything besides sit in complete and utter silence in his room tucked away from everyone else. No one checked on him and he did not check on anyone in return, especially not his mother after her emotional breakdown that night in the tea room.
The morning after, she stiffly told him about tonight’s dinner and that was that because gods forbid the Blacks show emotion.
His collar was too tight and his shoes too new, biting into the back of his foot and tearing into his skin, but this was to be his uniform and he was forced to accept it, as he had to do with most things in his life.
He looked in the mirror and caught a small bruise on the side of his neck from Bellatrix that he had missed and hastily unbuttoned his collar to aim his wand at it and heal it.
He flashed back to a moment last term when he had to heal a love bite James had given him one night spent in the Astronomy Tower. He had to stop himself from smiling then and now he wasn’t sure he could muster one if he tried.
Murderer, murderer, you are just like them, his brain chanted in an endless cycle. Flashes of the house elf he hadn’t known for more than five minutes assaulted him, burrowing deep into him and forcing him to remember what he had done.
He gave himself one last lookover, decided it’ll have to do, then left his room as his stomach tied itself into knots. He felt sick and fought to get a grip on himself, to be the person everyone already thought him to be.
He needed to be perfect tonight, there was no telling what could happen. Bellatrix had mentioned offhandedly during their lessons where some nights the Dark Lord was gracious enough to dole out assignments to his followers in exchange for gifts or praise them for all they had done for him and other nights where he’d kill a man for looking at him wrong.
His mind and body needed to move as one and right now, he was all over the place.
His father was standing at the foot of the stairs, staring up at all the heads plastered there causing Regulus to slow and stop at the last step.
“Do you ever wonder who started this?” he asked aloud.
He turned to look up at them, hating the sight just as much as he did when he had first registered what they actually were as a child, “I’m not sure. Hasn’t it just always been there?”
His father just hummed, “Well there’s always a first, someone started this and others followed after him. What happens when the wall is full? When there are no more elves? Nothing is infinite.”
This conversation was mentally stimulating enough to dull his bodily pains as he tried to wrap his mind around his father’s sudden melancholy. He rarely talked to the man these days and it seemed odd that this is what he had chosen to speak to him about.
“I suppose they’d have to clear the wall and start again,” Regulus replied.
“Then what was the point in the first place?”
He knew he’d never add to the wall himself so maybe all the heads that were up there now were all that would ever be there, or maybe someone would come after him and take up the torch he’d so carelessly dropped. Who’s to tell what the future would bring?
He turned his black inscrutable eyes onto him and it was like he was seeing him for the first time, “You look so much like Sirius when you get dressed up.”
Was that a compliment or an insult? Or just an absent comment he didn’t mean to let slip?
“How is he?”
Regulus became keenly aware of the silence in the house that followed his question. His mother still refused to mention Sirius’ name and now his father was asking about his well being? He never seemed to care whether Sirius was here or not and now he was entirely genuine in his inquiry.
He wished he knew his father more- to be able to see his tells and sense his motives as they came like he could do for his mother. Orion was just so absent for most of his adult life that it was hard to figure anything out about him.
He didn’t think his father was as sneaky as his mother to test him so randomly so he answered curtly and honestly, “I think he’s good. Taken care of.”
Silence ensured before, “So simple in concept yet we were so wrong in our execution of it.”
“Of what?”
“Care.”
The floo roaring to life caught his attention and he cast one last dark look at Regulus before walking away to attend to it.
This singular interaction was proof that one can spend an entire lifetime with someone and still not know anything about them.
_______
People steadily poured into the house.
First the Blacks, then the Lestranges, then the Malfoys. He was related to all of them and they comprised those at the top of the list of the Sacred Twenty-eight. These were the only families in attendance and he began to wonder about families like the Selwyns or the Greengrasses, where did they stand on the matter of Voldemort? Surely they supported him but in what capacity?
He was especially interested in the Rosiers, knowing Evan could be a potential target by Voldemort just as he was.
Despite everyone in attendance tonight, he stood politely next to Narcissa for most of the evening, creating idle conversation about the weather and his studies, erring far away from their previous conversations carried over his bleeding arms and cracked bones. The night continued on and with each ticking second, he grew more restless. He wanted to get the night over with, whether whole or in pieces, he didn’t rather care.
His prayers were answered when a resounding crack sounded outside the front door and the entire room fell to a silent hush- no one spoke, moved, or even breathed.
His parents both straightened and walked to the door as one, answering it when normally an elf would be tasked with it.
There was some low murmuring heard and footsteps until finally, he was there.
The man that was more myth than truth stood at about six feet tall but the way in which he carried himself made him look twice that. He was long and lean and wore loose black robes that hung around him like a dark shadow, cloaking his figure in entirety. He was bald and his skin looked thick and waxy as he twisted his neck to look at everyone in the room.
But it was his eyes that pinned Regulus to the spot and stole his breath away- they were blood red and slitted, just like a snake’s as they assessed the crowd before pausing on him. He held eye contact for just a moment before he was forced to look down. His stare was enough to force Regulus into submission- it felt like he could see through him right down into his soft and vulnerable centre.
Everyone’s heads were bowed slightly- a simpering sight he’d never thought he’d see purebloods do and yet here they were.
Bellatrix jumped forward and curtseyed low, “My lord,” she broke out, sounding rather emotional at the sight of him.
He looked down at her and nodded once before turning away and speaking to his father again.
Ever so slowly, people resumed their stilted conversations.
Beside him, Narcissa had tensed and he laid a shaking hand on her arm, “Just breathe.”
Her grey eyes slid over to him, “I’m not sure I will until I’m back home tonight.”
A shared sentiment.
Drinks floated around on charmed trays and Regulus held a glass but it was more so he had something to do with his hands than to actually drink. He wanted to remain painfully sober tonight, only later could he afford the luxury of numbness.
A few more painful moments passed until he spotted Bellatrix staring at him from across the room. She jerked her head harshly and he received her message clearly, setting his still full glass down and straightening up.
He walked past the groups of people towards the front of the room where Voldemort was standing, still watching everyone. At his approach, his eyes turned to his and the slits of his iris’ seemed to dilate in interest and his colourless lips pulled back to reveal rows of sharpened teeth.
He didn’t look real, as though he was on the way to becoming human- almost making it there but losing something halfway through. Or perhaps he was on his way to something that transcended the mere human form.
“My lord,” Bellatrix introduced, shoving him forward, “this is-”
“Regulus Black,” he finished.
“My lord,” Regulus bent his head in a sign of respect that he certainly didn’t feel but knew he had to do regardless.
“I’ve heard much about you,” he said, running a tongue over his lips as though tasting the air.
“It is an honour to meet you.”
“Kind words,” was all he said uninterestedly, clearly not affected by petty words.
As they spoke, Regulus felt gentle prodding around the outskirts of his mind, nudging his mental walls ever so slightly and while he was impressed by the show of power by the man across from him, he certainly was not going to let up now. The corner of his mouth lifted as though amused by Regulus’ deflection.
“Bellatrix has told me about your training, she says you are a quick study,” he looked at her then back to him. “I imagine you had much to learn after the departure of your brother, remind me, what was his name again?”
His toes curled inside his boots and his stomach roiled as he answered, “Sirius.”
He smiled again, “Ah yes. It was a shame to hear of his…views. There are still so many that remain misguided. They will come to learn the error of their ways one day- I have an infinite amount of patience.”
The way he spoke was like water running over smooth stones- his tone silky and his words light. It was a stark contrast to his physical appearance and Regulus could see how he could make any topic of conversation sound pleasant, how he could spin a nightmare into a fairytale with a few simple words.
“I hope so,” was all he could say.
He nodded before turning away, a clear dismissal and Regulus bowed to his profile once more and stepped away, leaving him and Bellatrix behind. He went back to his corner that was now vacant considering Narcissa was preoccupied with standing by Lucius and smiling at whatever he and his associates were talking about.
He remembered when he and Sirius were forced to attend these sorts of events when they were younger. His mother had to put them both under the Imperius a few times when they had riled each other up and dared to have the slightest bit of fun at events. The times before she caught them were some of his fondest memories.
And now here he stood alone.
A small elf notified them that dinner was complete and everyone shuffled towards the dining room like cows being herded back into the barn.
Voldemort strode confidently to the head of the table, taking over a spot that had once been reserved for his father only. At his right sat Bellatrix and his left was Malfoy- an interesting power dynamic. Further down was Lucius’ father Abraxos, the Lestrange brothers, and then his own parents. The only seat left for him was at the foot of the table, directly opposite Voldemort and the thought chilled him to his bones.
He silently slid into his seat and focused on a slight dent in the table, a bit off the centre and to the left. It had been made by Sirius when he was still learning how to use cutlery appropriately- he had once applied too much pressure when cutting a piece of meat that he lost his grip and the knife cut into the table. His parents were probably furious but Regulus didn’t remember- he tended to dissociate in moments like that.
The dishes were doled out and he listened as the conversations ranged from the latest happenings at the Ministry to what views the Ministry in France and Germany held and whether or not they could be brought to join the cause. Voldemort’s plan to the top was quite clean cut he realised, a coup from within as he slowly brought more and more people to his side until the entire Ministry would be his and from there- international Ministries. Along with this, he took out anyone that opposed him while simultaneously staging attacks to incite fear among both muggles and wizards in an effort to ‘bring them to the right side.’
His only question among all this was what exactly his role was in all of this? He was still a student with no real power outside of school, he was just going into his sixth year. It all felt a bit too much too soon to be sat here in front of him with nothing to offer.
Questions plagued him throughout dinner while he forced bites of food into his mouth. He couldn’t understand how Lucius could continue drinking the wine or Bellatrix could laugh all the while Voldemort was sitting right there. How could such a level of comfort be achieved with him?
Whenever he did look up from the table, he noticed Voldemort’s plate remained empty, not a single bite of food was offered to him nor did he ask. He periodically took sips from a glass containing a clear shimmering liquid that cascaded light when struck in a certain way. It looked like the poisons Slughorn held in his Advanced Potions cabinet.
He seemed more like an alien wearing a human suit than anything else- acting all the parts of a mortal being but not quite getting them right.
He rarely spoke as well, only asked questions here and there and nodded when they were answered. Regulus could practically see the gears turning in his head though, how loud it must be in his mind to remain so quiet on the outside.
Dinner concluded with treacle tart and suddenly Voldemort stood.
Everyone else at the table stood up and Regulus hastily followed, clearly not caught up with whatever rehearsed movements they had made.
“I should like to speak to Regulus in your study,” he announced, turning towards his father but he didn’t sound wary or unsure like one normally would with a question- it was a statement, an order.
His father immediately agreed, “Of course, my Lord.”
He walked out of the room without another word and Regulus just looked back at everyone else at the table. He was met with looks of envy, confusion, and fear but they all shared a common theme of- Go! And so he hastily followed the familiar steps to his father’s study on the ground floor.
He hadn’t actually been inside since he was a child when he would play with his toys in front of the fire in the hearth while his father worked. It was somewhere around the time he actually gained sentience that he was kicked out. His father continued to come in here often but he suspected he only came in here for work half of the time, the other half just because he had nowhere else in the house to go really.
A bookshelf took up the entirety of one wall, the hearth and intricate mantel the opposite, and a row of glass windows were opposite the door. The large wooden desk set in front of the bookshelf had been in the Black family for generations and despite its age, it had held up well though if one took a closer look, there were little indents made by quills over the years, words long lost to history now.
Voldemort however did not sit behind the desk, instead walking to stand in front of the hearth that he lit with a snap of his fingers regardless of the fact that they were right in the middle of summer.
“Sit,” he smiled, gesturing to the sofa.
Regulus sat and waited for him to do the same but he remained unmoved, his eyes just shifting downwards to meet him.
“I wanted a chance to speak to you away from…the others. Sometimes their enthusiasm overpowers their thoughts, so eager to prove themselves that others get overlooked. I suspect you have that problem,” he said. The way he spoke was so entirely odd and while others may seem comforted, he just felt off put by it. Everything was a statement that just didn’t really need a response so he was constantly left at a loss with what to do.
“I am honoured for the opportunity to present myself to you. My family has spoken highly of you for years,” he bowed, hoping that stroking his ego was a safe bet.
“Yes, I have known the Blacks, Malfoys, and Lestranges for years. I went to school with most of them and we’ve maintained these strong relationships. I thought it pertinent to get to know the future generations as well,” he gestured as he slowly paced, steepling his fingers in front of him. “You are familiar with the Mulciber’s? The Avery’s?”
“Yes I am, they’re in the year above me.”
He nodded, “They’ve proven themselves quite devoted to the cause. Tell me, what goals do you have for the future Regulus Black?” he asked, ruminating on his name just a second longer than the others as though tasting them.
“I-,” he faltered for a moment because truly, he had no idea, “I suppose I shall be like my father, take up our family seat in the Wizengamot, work in the Ministry.”
He meant to say the words with strength but they only came out sounding weak and contrite.
He sighed, the words clearly disappointing him, “Do you ever wish for more? What has following the path of your ancestors done for you? While the Blacks have already gained esteem and respect, is there not more you wish for?”
He supposed that wasn’t the life he wanted but he just spouted out the answers he thought Voldemort would like most, “I believe we need a leader for the cause, to lift up our kind, and I believe you are our saviour.”
He immediately turned sharp eyes on him and he frowned deeply, his pale skin turning dark, “I fear your status as a second child has affected you more than I thought. If you would like to be a part of the future I intend to create, I need you to be more active than you are now because the way you speak, you sound like a sheep. I do not need sheep in my inner circle.”
Okay, so he desired obedience but not simpering, “Yes my lord, I did not intend for it to sound like that-.”
He held up a wrinkled hand, “You have much to learn still, that is clear. You have been bolstered by your cousins, parents, and various other members of my circle. They all hold a lot of faith in you and I decided to listen to them seeing as you did not take the initiative in seeking me out yourself. Tell me Regulus, am I making a mistake in choosing you?”
He paused, absorbing the fact that practically everyone in attendance tonight had promoted him to Voldemort in one way or the other.
“And there it is, that hesitance. That is what I seek to eliminate,” he continued as a log cracked loudly in the hearth, sending embers jumping.
“I just-,” he didn’t know what to bloody say as his mind felt too weak to keep up.
He stepped forward then and bent down so that they were close to each other and he broke a hand as cold as ice to his cheek, “You seem to have an awful lot going on in that head of yours, why don’t we take a look inside?”
Before Regulus could react, Voldemort’s wand was out and at his temple as he hissed “Legilimens!”
Suddenly Regulus was thrown in the backseat of his own mind as Voldemort attacked his mental towers, tearing it down brick by brick, searching through his memories like he was flicking through a book. Regulus couldn’t tell what exactly it was that he was looking for but he worked nonetheless.
He jumped around Voldemort who was like an asp in his mind, he covered some memories while throwing forth others. He shuffled around in his mind, it was a careful dance to ensure Voldemort didn’t catch onto anything while also assuring Voldemort of his talents in Occlumency, a trait highly revered in most wizards.
Voldemort paused on a memory of Regulus at the Black Lake and it was like a switch turned on in his mind as he immediately dropped his mental walls down, definitively pushing Voldemort out. He’d so long come to associate the Lake with James that even an infinitesimal chance of Voldemort finding out about James had him immediately moving, the need to protect him overwhelming.
He was thrown back into the present and he was slumped back on the sofa, sweat beading on his brow with Voldemort hovering above him, a leering smile growing on his face.
“So long since I’ve seen the walls of Hogwarts,” he crooned, tilting his head and studying Regulus from this new angle. He reached his hand up again and picked at his hair, “Ah, how interesting,” he spoke as he studied the white streak in his hair, slipping his long fingers between the strands as though Regulus was his doll.
He fought to control himself as he tried to recover from the mental assault. He felt naked and entirely vulnerable, disgusted by the feeling of his own skin and he just wanted to claw at himself.
He readjusted himself as he straightened, “You are young but you are also the heir to your House. It would be a shame for you to disappoint so many. We will see eachother again soon Mr. Black,” he finished, throwing the doors to the room open and stepping out before swinging them shut behind them.
He started hyperventilating in the now quiet room, the party continuing outside the thick wooden doors. As he looked around at his surroundings, he felt an overwhelming wave of powerlessness and loss and his skin still prickled, the ghost of Voldemort’s fingertips running over the length of his entire body.
It morphed into the feeling of his mother’s sharp fingers, Sirius’ bloody fingers when they wrapped around his wrist as he pleaded with him to leave, Narcissa’s as she fought to hold him down so she could heal another screaming part of his body.
He jumped up and started pacing, unable to control himself as he unbuttoned his collar and pulled the collar of the shirt just so he could breathe, a luxury so often taken from him. He kicked his shoes off to reveal bloody socks and he just cringed. Shooting a hand out, adrenaline and fear coursing through him, he wandlessly locked the door and silenced the room until finally- he screamed.
He shouted as books flew off the walls and the fire jumped in the hearth.
He couldn't remember the last time he’d lost composure in such a way as he doubled over and screamed, pulling at his hair and his skin, hating the way he felt foreign in his own skin. He continued until throat was dry and raw and his fingertips were bloody from being pulled raw and scratching at his equally bloody arms.
The frustration was so powerful he couldn’t contain it but with all the anger he directed outwards, he forced himself to redirect it inwards until his body just shook with tremors.
Ever so slowly, he slipped his shoes back on, buttoned his collars, and smoothed his robes before stepping back out as though nothing happened.
He climbed the silent steps up to his room and disappeared for the rest of the evening and his last fleeting thought before shutting his door was, did anyone even notice he had left?
_______
“Master Regulus is having guests,” Kreacher croaked outside the door to Regulus’ room the following evening.
He had been laying in bed, staring out through the iron wrought bars of his window, since yesterday. All he could do was lay silently in bed- hoping maybe if he stayed here long enough, people would just forget he existed. It would have been a blessing and yet, apparently he had ‘guests.’
He was wearing a pair of black pyjama pants and a black long-sleeved top, the closest thing to informal clothing he could possibly get and honestly, he didn’t care who saw him like this. If it was anyone truly important, his mother or Kreacher would have either notified him prior or hexed his arse to get him up and change quickly.
He shoved his feet into his slippers and trudged down the stairs, frowning at the portraits that whispered to each other in his wake. A particular ancestor by the name of Izar raised his brows at the sight of Regulus and he smacked him quickly as he passed. He shut his green curtains in an affronted huff, muttering something about the insolence of children ‘nowadays.’
He was at the door to the receiving room when he saw Evan and Pandora conversing with his mother. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things because surely that wasn’t possible.
“Regulus!” Evan smiled jovially at his arrival. He was wearing a horribly formal pair of dress robes that Regulus wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him in and his light hair was gelled back to the point that he looked bald.
Pandora didn’t look much better as she wore a very modest emerald coloured gown and her wild hair was pinned up and out of her face. Her hands were clasped behind her back as she smiled politely. Her feet were tucked in a pair of kitten heels, a far cry from her dirty converse or platform heels she favoured.
His mother whirled around and she took in his appearance with distaste, “Your friends are here,” she repeated redundantly.
He hesitantly stepped further into the room, “I see that.”
“I meant to send you a letter to formally request your presence but my owl had fallen ill and I hadn’t had a chance to send another,” Evan said, sounding straight out of the 18th century, “I wanted to extend an invitation for a meeting my book club is holding tonight.”
Was he okay?
Pandora acted as though this was completely normal and he just stared at the two of them, trying and failing to school his expression into one of neutrality. His mother glared expectantly at him as she folded her arms across her chest.
“Erm…sure,” he said weakly.
Silence ensued until his mother finally barked, “Get dressed then.”
He turned on his heel and fled up the stairs and he heard Pandora speak, “So Mrs. Black, I was admiring your portrait above the mantle, who do you commission to do them?”
Yeah, she was definitely hexed.
He dressed and went back downstairs to meet them all.
Evan and Pandora, looking like a pair of haunted twins, bowed slightly at his mother in unison before turning and throwing floo powder into the fireplace announcing, “Rosier Residence.”
They went in one after the other and as he was about to enter, he heard his mother sigh behind him, “Look at how well-behaved they are, why can’t you be more like them?” she spoke dejectedly before leaving.
He rolled his eyes and left.
He was spit out into the sitting room and was instantly met with the chaotic sight of Evan ripping his clothes off, Pandora wrestling with her hair, and Dorcas and Barty fighting as they shovelled cookies into their mouths.
“Regulus dear,” Evan’s mom waved kindly at him from the doorway looking out of place just because of how calm she was.
“Does anyone want to explain book club?” he asked tentatively.
“Oh yeah,” Evan answered, looking much more like himself already as he ran his fingers through his hair, “Well we had a feeling things were getting a bit- tense and that…uh,” he seemed at a loss for words as he looked at the others in the room to help him.
Barty picked up the loose thread, “We all missed you too much to spend an entire summer apart so we kidnapped you!”
“But Evan- the robes- and Dora with the hair-” his mind rushed to catch up to all the stimulation after basking in silence for so long.
“Well your mum wouldn’t let us take you if we showed up like hoodlums so,” Pandora shrugged, having won the war with her hair…if it could be called that. While her hair wasn’t restrained anymore, it still stuck out oddly at random angles around her head.
It reminded him of James and his heart hurt again. He hadn’t reread his July letter, feeling unworthy of it and soon it would be time to open the August one and he wasn’t sure if he’d even do it. He was just delaying the inevitable the more he thought about the two of them together- it was impossible, they were imp-
“We’ll be having none of that tonight,” Dorcas said, shoving a cookie into his hand and forcing it up to his mouth before running a warm hand softly across his cheek. Her dark eyes were full of concern as she studied his own.
It had been so long since he felt a warm touch, one full of kindness and love, instead of pain or anger that he nearly collapsed. The high energy in the room mixed with the love and care infused into each of his friend’s words could have brought him down as he didn’t realise just how much he missed this, missed them.
He thought he’d see them only after the holiday was over and by then, he wasn’t sure how far he would have dug himself into his own grave.
She pulled him into a tight hug and the scent of lavender and vanilla soap blanketed him, wrapping around him so tightly that he couldn’t hold back the heave that ripped out of him.
He used to think he hated physical touch considering how he had always associated it with some sort of negative emotion but when it was from his friends, his chosen family, it provided him with unparalleled comfort and here, in Evan’s home, that was undoubtedly filled with warmth and comfort, it was everything to him.
Her arms squeezed him tighter and suddenly, he felt a presence at his back and knew just from the height that it was Barty, then at his sides came Evan and Pandora, all of them hugging him and each other as tears filled his eyes and a lump formed in his throat.
While they all joked and generally didn’t take themselves too seriously, they all had an unspoken understanding of each other's backgrounds, of what they endured when not at school, and it wasn’t often that they spoke about it but now…all of it resulted in this moment where Regulus finally didn’t feel alone.
There was the click and flash of a camera and they all slowly disentangled themselves from each other to find the source.
Evan’s mum had snapped a photo of all of them with a wide grin on her face, “Oh I just love you all.”
They all burst out in watery laughs and Pandora took the lead in saying, “Right, now that we’ve had a good cry sesh, we need to get you out of those clothes.”
He looked down at his robes and agreed they were rather frumpy compared to everyone that had dressed in Muggle clothes…
“Where are we going?” he asked suspiciously then, realising they’d all remained quite hush on that front.
“London of course,” they all grinned and soon enough, they were off.
_______
Evan lived just on the outskirts of London and they caught a taxi easily, when asked where they wanted to go, Dorcas rattled off the name to some street none of them had ever heard of.
Barty sat up front next to the poor taxi driver who did not look pleased at the sight of them.
None of them aside from Dorcas and Evan had ever actually been in a car before so Pandora was infatuated with the small button that moved the window up and down, Barty fumbled with the buttons that changed the music playing on the box in the centre console, and Regulus focused on not dying, gripping the strap that went across his body with all his strength.
It was like the Knight Bus in slow motion, where before he had zipped through the city at the speed of lightning, this car went through each street and light slowly, manoeuvring between cars with ease, and stopping when appropriate, not just whenever one reached their destination like the Bus.
They arrived at their destination about thirty minutes later and when it came time to pay, Dorcas pulled out a stack of money and slowly counted and paid the man.
“Muggle currency makes no sense to me, it’s just paper, I can make paper,” Pandora mused as they walked along the street. “Wait, if I just made the money myself, would I be rich?”
“No, that’s called counterfeiting and that’s a crime,” Dorcas answered plainly.
“But how would they know?”
“Because it’s fake.”
“Yeah but like I could make really good copies,” she reasoned as though it was obvious. Regulus supposed she had a point as he nodded along.
“Babe, if you do end up doing that, don’t call me to break you out of jail because I will not be doing that,” she sighed, leading them around a corner.
She led them down a dark and silent alley, no club or party to be seen,
“Cas, you know I love you right,” Barty hesitantly whispered.
“Yeah, why?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Because Evan showed me that Muggle horror movie and the main character died in an alley and this kind of looks like that.”
“Evan, you know he gets nightmares,” Pandora chided.
She just laughed before slowing her steps and she stopped in front of a rickety wooden door. She knocked three times with a second’s silence between them then suddenly a slit in the door opened revealing a pair of dull blue eyes.
“Conundrum,” Dorcas said with a wink and the small slit shut again and the sounds of locks whirring ensued before the door opened.
They all filed inside and went down dark and narrow set of stairs that opened up to an underground space. Glass chandeliers decorated the ceiling and illuminated velvet-lined booths and wooden chairs set up around the expansive bar at the back.
Small sprites zipped around the room and men and women walked around the space freely, mingling with each other as they shared drinks. A closer look showed that the man behind the bar was using his wand to pull glass bottles off the impossibly high bar shelves and it dawned on him that this was a magical club.
“Where are we?” he awed, looking around.
“It’s called Lelantus,” she grinned mischievously. “It was a speakeasy for muggles during the 1920’s but it was abandoned once the prohibition was over. I guess some wizard found it and thought it was the perfect place for wizards to party freely in plain sight, hence the name.”
He racked his mind trying to figure out the word and remembered Lelantus was the Greek god of stealth- he smiled at the ingenuity.
“Muggles come in every once in a while but the alcohol here gets them drunk a bit quicker so anything they do see just gets chalked up to drunk hallucinations.”
“Let’s get pissed,” Barty announced, beelining to the bar and who were they to deny him.
_______
The atmosphere was nice, much more chilled than he expected, and he was pleased- content to sit here in the booth, drinking, listening to music, and talking to his friends. He didn’t have the energy or motivation to get up and dance and the idea of doing anything with someone that wasn’t James was unappealing.
While he and James weren’t exactly ‘officially exclusive’ it sure felt that way, definitely had for some time now and he just hoped James felt the same.
“So when did you lot plan my kidnapping?” he asked, cradling his drink that tasted a bit like ogre piss and strawberries.
“Well we’ve all managed to keep in touch over the summer but then Evan told me about what had been happening with You-Know-Who,” Barty said in a low voice, silencing their booth in the off chance there were other wizards there at the moment.
“What do you know about Him?” Regulus asked nervously, Bellatrix’s warning about them not being too far behind him blaring in the back of his mind.
“It was nothing,” Evan huffed.
“We already agreed to drop this,” Dorcas huffed sharply.
Evan sighed, clearly not wanting to talk about it but he relented, “My dad sent me a letter, talking about how he’d bring up the idea of having me join the death eaters too. Try to find me an ‘in’ or whatever.”
“And I said that I think that’s a horrible fucking idea, he can’t do it,” Barty said angrily, setting his glass down with a thud.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Evan reared back.
“This was supposed to be a fun night out, please don’t ruin it,” Pandora protested, her tone pleading.
Beauty huffed, leaving the table to get more drinks for the rest of them but Regulus knew when it came to ‘fight or flight’ versus Evan, he almost always chose flight.
“He just doesn’t understand,” Evan shook his head.
“He won’t allow himself to just yet, but I do. Look, everything is so uncertain right now so let’s not jump to conclusions, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” Regulus smiled, trying to reassure Evan, infusing hope in his friend that he didn’t quite feel himself but Evan remained unmoved- he saw past lies with ease that it was sometimes pointless to even try,
“Are you on that bridge?” Evan asked quietly, barely audible over the music and it still took Regulus’ breath away.
Despite all his attempts at refusals and denial, he knew the truth, “I am.”
Everyone at the table’s faces dropped and Regulus just looked away, unable to bear the weight of their gazes. He thought they already knew but it was one thing to suspect and another to have those suspicions confirmed.
“It’s not that serious, don’t worry- it’s just talks anyways,” Regulus tried to say easily, knowing that while he felt fear, he didn’t want any of his friends to feel that way and he’d do whatever it’d take to ensure that their concerns were assuaged, even if at the expense of his own truth. “Now, Dorcas I’m gonna need you to tell me- have you seen Marlene yet?”
Her cheeks pinked as she breathed a sigh of relief and looked away, “Maybe…”
Pandora was shocked, “You didn’t tell me!”
Barty joined them and they all gushed over Dorcas and Marlene and Regulus delighted in the conversation. All summer he’d felt weary and old that being able to talk about their crushes like icky first years helped lift his spirits if slightly.
The clock ticked away as they kept replenishing their drinks and they all teetered that line of drunk where they could maybe hold a conversation but if asked to do anything remotely requiring more than one brain cell, they’d fail miserably.
“I’m going to miss you so much,” Pandora cried as she threw her arm around Dorcas’ shoulder, “You can’t leave me alone with them next year.”
“Excuse you, we are a delight,” Regulus protested, sticking a finger up and Barty vigorously nodded his head in agreement.
“What if you just fail your NEWTs, then you can stay back and repeat a year!” Pandora gasped as though that was the best idea in the world.
Regulus, equally excited by her proposition, burst out, “Wait! I could ask James to do that too!” Then, spurred on by the drink, his mood changed dramatically, “I’m gonna miss him. We haven’t even talked aboutthis year, oh my gods.”
“We saw him in Hogsmeade when we last went, y'know? His hair is so long, it looked rather nice actually, but he looked all wistful, kind of like a puppy. I think he’d do whatever you asked him,” she said thoughtfully.
Regulus was just stuck on her earlier comment, “Ooh I miss his hair,” he crooned sorrowfully.
“Excuse me?” Dorcas interjected, her tone flabbergasted.
“Did you say James?” Evan asked in an octave about three times higher than normal.
“As in Potter?!” Barty squawked, his jaw fully on the ground.
He and Pandora just stared at each other and both of them knocked their heads into their palms at the same time.
When will James Potter stop getting him into trouble?