to whatever end
“She’ll be okay, we believe the cause of her collapse was ‘mental overload’- once you told us she was a Seer, it made much more sense. Oftentimes Seer’s, especially young ones like her, can get easily overwhelmed with what they believe they see. She’ll be able to better handle them once she’s older but she should wake up in the next couple of hours and if all’s well, she can go home,” the nice Healer, Collins, informed him.
Regulus was the only one there with her. He imagined his mother contacted Lestrange Sr. and told him what happened and where she was but he hadn’t shown up. He imagined the heartless man would only make an appearance if Pandora was on her deathbed and even then, that was a maybe.
That’s pretty much what it would have to take for them to pay attention to her.
It was genuinely heartbreaking to see how little her father or brothers cared for her. Growing up, he’d watch her beg her brothers to play with them, or to be able to just sit and watch as they did whatever they did together like a piece of furniture. They constantly refused her by shutting the door or pushing her away- they treated her like a pest rather than a family member.
And so Regulus vowed to stay with her, for all the times she helped him feel less alone.
The magical scan above her continued to beat rhythmically, tracking each breath and each beat of her heart with perfect precision. He was more interested in the image that showed her brain waves, obsessively checking each rise and crest for any changes but none came.
Last night was another sleepless night considering the nightmare he had wiped any traces of slumber he might have gotten and his eyes were already beginning to fall shut once more. They felt like they were being weighed down and he knew he’d feel worse if Pandora woke up to him knocked out by her bedside.
He slowly extended his limbs and unfolded himself from the small chair he had curled up in and walked out in search of a quick coffee.
Managing it to the bottom floor, he grabbed a cup of flavourless coffee and ambled around the floor just to stretch his legs and get his blood flowing once more. He passed by groups of people chatting, some talking rather seriously to each other, and groups of medi-witches and wizards hanging out on what was probably their break.
Everyone was too wrapped up in whatever they were dealing with to notice each other so when he ran right into someone, he wasn’t rather surprised.
His coffee burned his hand as it spilled over the open lid and he watched it splatter all across the mans’ leather shoes, “I’m so sorry,” he spurted instantly.
He turned to look at the man in question and instantly stopped short.
He was about his height, if just an inch or two shy of it. He had caramel coloured skin and wild dark brown hair that had grey threaded through it, maturing his look only slightly. He had glasses perched just on the edge of his strong prominent nose and Regulus had to physically restrain himself from gaping.
It was as though he had used a time turner and gone to the future because he was literally looking at James…sure there were slight differences in features- thinner lips, a more square jaw, and a calm demeanour, but it seemed minimal in the face of the larger picture.
“Don’t worry about it,” the man smiled serenely, pulling a long and thin wand out of his robes and pointing them at his shoes, instantly vanishing the mess, “All done.”
Regulus felt too stunned to move because he put the pieces together quickly- he’d seen this man on the Platform every holiday as well, arms outstretched to hug James, and later Sirius. This was James’ father .
He felt stupidly anxious now. It wasn’t like him and James were ‘dating’ or anything but this still felt like a big moment and of course, he’d gone and mucked it out by spilling cheap coffee all over his shoes.
“I still apologise, I didn’t see you-,” he babbled as though that would make up for it.
He reached a hand out, grasping Regulus’ arm lightly, “Hey, no worries, I hate these shoes anyways,” he winked. He paused, studying his face intently and Regulus could see him connecting the dots with a cringe but he didn’t react, his face remaining perfectly neutral. “That’s about the most exciting thing to happen to me today anyways. My coworker had a headache and he’s a bit of a hypochondriac and I felt bad so I tagged along. I’m certainly regretting that now though,” he finished with a huff as though they were in on this together.
He spoke so easily, as though Regulus wasn’t who he was. Sirius was practically the man’s son now and he expected him to react or accuse him of something maybe…anything really.
“How about you, is everything okay?” he seemed concerned, looking past his shoulder as though someone was coming.
“I- er- yes. It’s just my friend, she’s unwell, do you- do you know me?” he stuttered out stupidly and he wanted to smack himself.
“Of course I do Regulus, I may be old but my eyes still work just fine,” he said with mirth, a crooked smile forming, instantly making him look years younger.
“I didn’t mean to insinuate that, I just didn’t expect to see you I suppose…” he trailed off awkwardly.
“Would you like to sit?” he gestured to a small bench by them and Regulus just nodded mutely.
He carried himself with ease, his back straight and gait steady. He walked like James- a sway of the hip and a bounce in his step, but this man was just a mere shadow of that. He tried to recall his name but he couldn’t- Sirius always referred to him as “James’ dad” whenever he spoke of them before, as though it was some precious secret he didn’t want to share with him.
“Your friend, will she be okay?” he inquired gently.
“Yes Mr. Potter. She just has a cold,” he covered for her, not really wanting to get into the details of it all right now.
He chuckled, “Please call me Monty, Mr. Potter just makes me feel old. James makes me feel older than I am as it is.”
Regulus smiled lightly, hearing someone else mention James after what felt like a drought without him lifted his mood slightly, easing his roiling spirit.
“How is he- everyone, your family?” Regulus asked in turn, trying to mind his manners when all he wanted was to know more about James.
There was an odd glint in Monty’s brown eyes, a secret sort of knowing lingering but Regulus couldn’t be sure, “They’re all well. Sirius and James just spend their days causing chaos then pretending not to know anything about it. Just last week, they went to Zonko’s and have yet to tell me what they got.”
Regulus could only imagine, “I’d keep an eye out for your eyes and toes,” he cautioned light-heartedly.
“And how has your summer been faring?” he asked, tone light but subdued.
Regulus wrung his hands then and though he knew they were slick with sweat, he couldn’t help but think it was blood.
“It’s been good, very ah- restful,” he answered a bit evasively.
There was a beat of silence, “You know, you’re always welcome at our home. I’m sure the boys would be glad to see you, I know the summer holiday can feel so incredibly long without friends around.”
Regulus looked up into Monty’s imploring eyes and he wanted nothing more than to take him up on that offer. To say “Yes, I’d love to come over!”, to floo there right now through one of the many floos available but he couldn’t. He was a fool for even attempting to entertain the idea.
Even if he did show up, what would happen? Sirius certainly wouldn’t want to see him, not after how they ended things last term and he and James couldn’t do anything more than look at each other without suddenly looking incredibly suspicious. James also described how he couldn’t wait to see Regulus again in his letter but he wrote that before the holiday and an evil voice in his mind convinced him that those words might not reign true anymore after so much time apart.
“You don’t have to take me up on that offer now, or tomorrow, it’s open- any day of the year, any time of day, our floo is open,” he assured him and Regulus wondered how true that was as he remembered the floo flaring a bright red in his face, indicating that it had been shut off to him all that time ago.
“That’s very kind of you, thank you,” was all he said.
“Speaking of chaos, the wildest thing happened the other day. I was up getting a glass of water at what must’ve been the middle of night. I looked out my window and this huge owl came swooping in our open window, right for James who for some reason was also awake. I’m not sure what it was but he certainly looked excited to see it. He never mentioned it the following day though,” Monty asked with faux confusion evident in the way the corner of his lip turned up.
“How bizarre,” Regulus said lightly as he stood up, feeling like Monty’s question was a bit of a test or a game and he felt strangely inclined to play.
“It was nice to meet you, in person. I’ve always wanted to,” Monty admitted strangely.
Regulus so often felt like a footnote in people’s lives that the idea of something thinking about him when he wasn’t in their immediate vicinity surprised him. He hesitated but confessed in a similar manner, “So have I. James is a remarkable person and I can see how he has turned out that way.”
“As are you Regulus,” he promised before reaching a hand out.
Regulus took it, shaking it once before letting go.
Monty sighed as he stepped back, “I’m tempted to spill some more coffee on myself if it means I get to go home early.”
He seemed years younger as he rolled his eyes and waved at Regulus one last time.
Regulus didn’t think he’d ever considered what it might be like to meet the Potters, having only heard of them through stories and while he had yet to meet James mum, it was already clear to him that his father adored him from the loving gleam in his eyes and the gratifying way he spoke of James as though he were a gift.
James was certainly the gift that kept on giving to him, it was only right that others saw him in the same light.
He had to suppress the secret smile that kept forming while he walked back up to Pandora’s room, this interaction waking him up way more than coffee ever could.
_______
Pandora woke up dazed and confused so the Healers decided to let her stay an additional night and Regulus was deeply grateful for a night of respite for the two of them. While it wasn’t like their rowdy night away at Lelantus, it was a time for the two of them to relax in quiet, the way they often preferred it when it was just the two of them.
She fell back asleep and woke up a few hours later when the sun was a mere imprint in the sky, fading away with each ticking minute. He had summoned Kreacher to bring him a book from home to occupy his time but put it away once Pandora’s eyes opened and looked like they’d stay open for more than a few moments.
“I’m sorry I showed up unannounced then just kicked it. My vision it- it scared me Reg,” she whispered, her hand seeking his and he instantly offered it, squeezing her hand that felt far too cold. He cupped his hands in hers and rubbed, trying to offer some sort of relief to her paper thin skin.
“If you don’t want to talk about it I understand but you really worried me there Dora. The healers said it’ll take some time for you to adjust to your visions so-.”
“I do want to talk about it because what I saw…I dont’ think it’s something that time can heal,” she said gravely and it did nothing to soothe his prickly nerves and the hairs on the back of his neck stood in anticipation.
He just sent her a questioning look, leaning in closer.
Her bright crystal blue eyes seemed to glow in the dim room as she took in a shuddering breath, “I was in my room, aren’t I always, and I was looking at a photo album- nothing in particular but then I felt like I was falling but I was awake, I know I was. One minute I was there, then I was nowhere . It was black for a long moment then suddenly I saw Barty and Evan and Evan was crying. I tried to speak but I was frozen- it was terrifying but I didn’t know where they were, I’d never been there before, it looked like a house or something. Barty was yelling about something and his arm Regulus. He had the mark .”
A breath whooshed out of him.
Barty had no connection to the death eaters, especially not in the way he, Evan, or Pandora did. His father was a high-ranking Ministry official and despite all he did to neglect his son, he was on the straight and narrow, upholding the law as though he had created it.
He would never kneel at Voldemort’s feet so how had Barty gotten involved? He never personally harboured any sort of death eater sentiment like Mulciber or Avery so what made him get the mark? The mark wasn’t given to just anyone that walks by though either, only those that proved their dedication to the dark Lord.
A seed started to take root in his mind, an idea forming but Pandora continued,
“I wanted to see more but I couldn’t- it just went black. I tried to come back to myself, after reading about anchors and that from my mum’s journals but it didn’t work, I was lost in some sort of sea in my mind,” she gestured to her head as though it were a foreign body, “Then I saw you and Regulus…you were dead. I swear it. I don’t know where we were, it was some beach but I can’t be sure and your body was there. I couldn’t go to you but you weren’t breathing and I-” she started to cry, “I wanted to help you but I couldn’t, no one was there. It went black again but I tried to go back, I needed to find out more but it was like fighting a losing battle and-.”
She was practically hyperventilating at this point, the words coming out of her in a mad rush and Regulus quickly climbed out of his chair and onto the bed she was in, bringing her to his side and cradling her head to his chest, keeping his arms wrapped around her.
“Shh, I’m right here, we don’t know what it means, visions are never absolute, yeah?” he whispered in her ear, rocking slightly, and while she nodded, he felt relieved she couldn’t see his face because he felt true fear then.
He started to feel like he might pass out himself then, holding Pandora if just to keep himself upright now.
________
“Sit still,” the man barked, his French accent heavy and probably indiscernible to the untrained ear but to Regulus, it was as easy as understanding English.
Regulus honestly wanted to laugh at the man and ask whether he could truly be anymore stereotypical as a black beret sat askew on his head and a cigarette hung loosely from his lips as he squinted at Regulus before mixing paint in his palette.
When his mother presented him with the idea of having a new portrait made for him a few days ago, he frowned, not seeing the need for it considering his last portrait was just a few short years ago.
Typically, they’d only have portraits done every decade or so at the very least but she claimed that things had ‘changed’ since then and he needed a portrait that represented that.
He was just happy that Walburga hadn’t forced him to cut his hair. Sometimes he forgot himself that he had impulsively pierced his ear so early last year and it was only when he pushed his hair back that he actually remembered it was there. He wasn’t sure if his mother had seen it or not but she had yet to comment on that so he was glad for it, it still hurt to touch so he imagined ripping it out wouldn’t feel all that nice.
He was also, much to his chagrin, reminded of his embarrassing visit to Madam Pomfrey with James acting as his ward in which he had to explain how he had managed to hurt his ear via orange.
His back was ramrod straight in the chair, his feet together, and his head high as he forced himself to stay in the same position as he had been for the past three hours. He really wasn’t that big of an individual, how long did it really take to paint him?
The spindly man stood up and walked over to Regulus and he bent down to study him, his wide blue eyes assessing as he looked at Regulus like a specimen. He hummed as he held a paintbrush to Regulus' cheek and apparently he was pleased with the colour match as he sat back down.
“Pourquoi cela prend-il si longtemps?” (Why is this taking so long?), Regulus asked as he squirmed in his seat, his feet going numb with disuse.
“Ne précipitez pas la perfection” ( Do not rush perfection) , the man chided, blowing out a puff of smoke to the left of the canvas in front of him.
Walburga would probably have an aneurysm if she caught the man smoking indoors but he didn’t seem scared in the slightest.
It seemed that those with talent deemed themselves above rules, as though their talent overshined everything else and anyone that opposed them would simply be forced to be deprived of their art.
The robes he was wearing were garish and oppressive, thick swaths of black and green fabric with brocade and silk all over it. He had a bright green cape that wrapped around him and signified his role as heir, further emphasised by the egg-size emerald pin resting on his breast.
The robe had to have been last updated in the 15th century because it looked ridiculous but he was forced to wear it and sit like a doll for this man to paint.
He finally finished a mere five hours afterwards and he ended up taking the painting with him to ‘touch-up’ so in the end, Regulus didn’t even receive the gratification of seeing it.
However, his interest in his previous portrait piqued again at around hour three so that evening, he snuck out of his room, making way to the attic where he knew he would find it.
The attic contained everything unwanted or forgotten over the years and he imagined that portrait was a bit of both of those things. When Sirius initially left, he just remembered elves taking down the portrait and disappearing with it but he didn’t think his mother ordered them destroyed, probably too lost in her own anguish to think that through.
He walked past stacks of old crumbling boxes and dusty shelves containing old tomes and other knick knacks that had just gathered over the years, their use either forgotten or just unneeded in the modern day.
There was a small skylight allowing watery grey light to filter in, the sun already setting now, and he used that to watch his step. He wouldn’t be surprised if there were critters making a home in this space and he definitely wasn’t very much in the mood to wrestle a rat.
Dust motes flitted aimlessly and he had to fight the urge to sneeze every time he passed an especially dusty area.
He finally made it to the back where portraits were lined up like vinyl records and he wondered what it must take to make the cut to make it into a Black family residence. In Grimmauld, there were portraits of people from decades, even centuries ago, so what was it about them that made them worthy enough to be displayed? Other family members like his aunt and cousins also have Black portraits in their houses as well, the number of them seemingly endless.
He pulled the cover off of one and saw a still portrait of a stern-faced man, his hairline still black but receding and his mouth turned down in a perpetual frown. Next to him was a small girl, standing to his left with a small hand on his knee, an almost absent gesture. Her blonde hair was curly and framed her face like a halo, making her seem angelic. She was the exact antithesis to the man and Regulus glanced down at the small placard that identified them as- ‘Ophiuchus Black and his daughter Delphina Black, 1842.’
He felt rather bad for the man because a name like that was horrendous. Growing up, he thought Regulus didn’t quite fit him, it didn’t roll off the tongue the way Sirius’ did but Sirius managed to convince him that their names rhymed so it was perfect.
It didn’t rhyme and it wasn’t perfect, but it had managed to make him smile.
He moved on to the next one and was taken aback. It was a portrait of a young woman- she had long black hair that flowed down her side in silky waves. Her eyes were bright and her lips were set in the softest of smiles, a barely there sort of look. Her hands were clasped in her lap and her body was angled towards the painter. The small placard identified her but while Regulus had an inkling of who this woman was, he still checked just to make sure- ‘ Walburga Black, 1943.’
He could barely reconcile the woman in the painting with the woman currently stalking around the house downstairs like a beast.
The woman in this painting was demure, quiet, though her eyes seemed to hold endless depths that made anyone looking at her want to take a dip if just to know a fraction of what she did. His mothers eyes now just looked like steel, nothing more or less and if anyone tried to dig deeper, they would be stopped by a cold hard wall. She seemed to have lost that sort of depth of youth.
He moved onwards and finally found the portrait of Sirius and him.
Sirius was sitting on a large high-backed chair that resembled a throne. He was dressed in fine regalia, jet black robes, similar to the ones he himself wore that day, with jacquard and brocade stitched across it to further emphasise his status. A dark green cape was draped across his shoulder, held in place by a brooch the size of an ostrich egg. It was their family crest, the words ‘toujours pur’ placed directly beneath it. He was still young but his face was tight, his eyes cold and mouth set in a deep frown. The artist had clearly tried to smooth it because Regulus remembered how horrible he looked and felt that day in real life. His hair was slicked back from his face and his posture was better than Regulus had ever seen it.
Regulus stood next to him, a clear indication that he was second in line and not the direct heir. He was dressed in similar robes though he didn’t have a cape or the brooch. His face was straight, emotionless, and it was odd to see a child as small as him seem so lifeless. He looked like an extra insertion, as though he wasn’t originally there at all.
He stared at the painting as anger and sadness welled up in him.
After the painting was done, Sirius took his hand and ran upstairs with him. Regulus remembered sitting on his bed and watching him tear off the clothes without any care for how expensive or delicate they were.
“I’m never getting a portrait done again,” Sirius whined to him.
“I wanted to sit in a chair too,” Regulus frowned, having felt left out.
Sirius smiled then, sitting next to him, “Don’t worry Reg, when we’re older, I’ll get you a chair and we’ll take a whole bunch of pictures. And we won’t have to wear any of that old stuff, I’ll buy us matching leather jackets and then we’ll show mum how much better our pictures are.”
That portrait was the last time either of them were ever ‘pictured’ together for after he went to Hogwarts, their summers had grown a bit tense and only worsened until finally everything went to hell and he left.
His mouth tasted bitter as he stared at the Sirius in the portrait-the Sirius that lied to him about the future they had together. He hated the fact that that version of Sirius didn’t exist anymore.
He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the painting. The delicate curl of his eyelashes or the short hair at the nape of his neck. The way his own hand rested on Sirius’ shoulder, his slender fingers gripping his shoulder to keep him there, with him.
He released a growl of frustration as he forced himself to step back. He threw the cover back on it and turned away, knowing that if he stayed for even a moment more, he’d end up destroying the painting and despite his anger, he knew the small sentimental part of him would be destroyed if he did that.
He was walking out of the attic when his foot caught on something and he tripped, only managing to right himself at the very last moment.
He cursed, looking back to see the offending object and it was a small wooden box that was left haphazardly on the floor.
Deciding that he might as well investigate, he crouched down to inspect it, pleased to find it unlocked and he pulled the wooden cover off.
Inside was a tangle of jewellery. He couldn’t place any of it or decipher what was what beyond a mess of silver and gold chains all stuck together. He sat down, crossing his legs under him, and began to parse through them, seeing as he was already here, and all this jewellery was left behind and forgotten so he might as well nick something interesting. It was agonising but sort of therapeutic and eventually, he had managed to do it until he was left with about 6 necklaces, 3 bracelets, and some rings.
There was one silver necklace that especially caught his eye- the silver chain was delicate, thin and light in his fingers and in the centre, the chain melted into a smooth flat bar and when he held it up to the light, he could see something was engraved there- ‘ fortes fortuna adiuvat’
It meant ‘fortune favours the brave.’
He ran his thumb over the words as he considered them- it was the Gryffindor house maxim. He couldn’t possibly imagine why that was here or who it had belonged to.
The chain was well made, expensive by the looks of it, and he racked his mind, trying to place who it could’ve belonged to but not a single Black was coming to mind. Clearly there had to have been some Gryffindor if this was here for it couldn’t have been stolen either, no one that wasn’t Gryffindor would find use for it, especially a self-important Black.
An odd sort of emotion began to grow inside of him, one where his fingers prickled and his mind went fuzzy. It was the unsettling realisation that there had to have been another Black that was a Gryffindor, one that had been erased from history clearly for when Sirius was initially sorted into Gryffindor, his parents acted like he was the first one ever .
The Black family tapestry certainly had enough charred spots in it to let him know that anyone they didn’t approve of could be banished in a single instant.
As Regulus began putting the other necklaces back, he saw a twin one to the one he was holding but this was in gold. When it caught the light, he saw the words ‘ quocumque fine.’
‘To whatever end,’ a rather popular Slytherin expression referencing their ambition and determination and how most of them would do whatever it took to get what they wanted.
He mulled over the two necklaces and what they meant and his mind snagged on the metal specifically used. Gold was to Gryffindor and Silver was to Slytherin, so why were the metals switched?
It dawned on him that they were a pair .
“Master Regulus, your dinner is being ready,” Kreacher called from the foot of the stairs that led to the attic and he was incredibly grateful that he hadn’t directly popped up here.
“I’m coming,” he called out, pocketing the necklaces swiftly and shutting the box away.
_______
“Today’s our last lesson before school,” Bellatrix frowned, clearly put out that Regulus won’t be her plaything for at least a few months.
“What a shame,” he replied half-heartedly, not even pretending to mean his words.
“And so today will be extra fun for us,” she redirected delightfully, “I feel as though you need to expand your magical arsenal so to speak,” she gestured widely, “I know we’ve worked so much with the Unforgivables but that was just to get you started, there’s truly a whole world of magic we’ve barely begun to get into.”
He frowned, picking apart her words. It was true that the world of magic was practically endless as new spells appeared by the day coupled with all the branches of magic that weren’t practised anymore- dark spells, necromancy, natural magic, etc. Much of that magic has either been lost to time or banned because of how dangerous they were.
He tried to figure out where Bellatrix was leading him before they got there because she didn’t seem like the type to use more primitive forms of magic as they were far too technical for her.
“Let’s duel, and I want you to use the most creative and effective spells you could possibly think of,” she said before immediately jumping into an offensive position, forcing him to raise his wand defensively.
They circled each other in the ballroom they had found themselves in again.
She took the first shot as she shouted something and a jet of red light shot out of her wand and Regulus marvelled how the single stream of light suddenly broke apart like shattered glass and he threw up a shield charm at the last minute as he watched each prick against the shield like it was a pin cushion. He cringed imagining what it would be like had he been defenceless.
He rushed to think creatively and he remembered the spell he had used on Mulciber at the very beginning of the year and he swung his arm around before casting, the familiar rope of cobalt electricity jumping out of his wand and winding around Bellatrix’s leg. He jerked his arm back and pulled, taking her down.
Surely the duel was over by then but the expression on her face made him take pause- it was a mix of anger and admiration, proud that he had risen to the occasion but mad that she was hurt in the process. She quickly got back on her feet and began again.
Next was a stream of purple that broke his defence shield as though it were gossamer and the instant it touched him, he felt like he was being burned alive. He collapsed on the floor as pain lanced through his very bones. He clutched at the air and looked at Bellatrix wondering what she had possibly done.
She walked up to him and cast once more, twirling her wand in a lazy gesture, and the pain slowly but surely dissipated.
“I just melted all of your organs,” she smiled, “And fixed them again, you’re welcome.”
He growled in frustration, pushing his hair out of his face as he regained his strength and her eyes glinted with excitement.
The fight rapidly devolved as they flung spell after spell at each other. The air was filled with smoke and stunk of iron and sulphur but neither of them wanted to quit.
It was only when they were both knocked down that they stopped. She spit blood out of her mouth and he wiped his hand under his nose where he could feel blood steadily pour out of. It wasn’t broken but it hurt as though it did.
The entire time she had been hurling insult after insult at him and he remained silent but now, he rose to the bait and had to respond.
She shrieked in frustration and he couldn’t help but smile, “Ready to give up so soon?” he jeered, feeling sick satisfaction.
She glared at him, standing back up shakily, “Cocky are we?”
“You wanted to be creative yet you haven’t shown me anything impressive. Suppose it takes a bit more intelligence for that,” he pushed, letting his tongue run loose.
It was true though. He had gone for odd spells, quickly adapting them to fit his current needs and he’d pulled out a tooth of hers, shrunk her hands, twisted her legs, and even charmed her hands to start hitting herself so that he didn’t have to put in any of the work. All of her spells were just savage, nothing particularly remarkable.
Just when he thought it was over, Bellatrix raised her black wand shakily and cast something silently with pure malice. All of her previous glee was gone and he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. He knew that while Bellatrix wanted to teach him how to be better, she wanted to be the one in control and when she wasn’t, she was quick to resort to violence to regain it.
He’d need to restrain himself more next time. It was no matter because right now, he felt searing pain in his throat as he doubled over and gasped. No sound came out of his throat as he choked, clutching at it in desperation as though it could help ease the pain.
The pain quickly dulled to an aching throb and he went to say something but his throat pulled uncomfortably and nothing came out except a weak indiscernible rasping noise.
His cousin smiled, revealing rows of bloody teeth, “I’ve just taken your vocal cords. Maybe now you’ll learn to mind your words.”
_______
He got home late. It was far past midnight, and his parents were asleep. Even the elves had disappeared to wherever they went when they were not needed, and he was left alone.
His throat still ached but the pain wasn’t active and there was nowhere to go now even if he wanted to get help. He definitely did not want to go to St. Mungo’s and cause a big fuss, especially because he knew his parents would find a way to make this his fault, berating him for being a weak dueller or dense for not knowing how to fix this himself.
He imagined his mum would like this spell if she knew about it.
There was an odd sort of irony in this situation.
Sirius always shouted at him, wondered why he never spoke back to his parents or stuck up for himself, why he always seemed to just go silent whenever something happened and he couldn’t explain how his voice just seemed to die around their parents. He’d always felt like his words would never matter in the face of them.
Now, his vocal cords were gone as a result of talking back for what was probably the first time ever.
The gods always had a sick sense of humour.
The following morning passed by peacefully seeing as he didn’t speak, instead dutifully following whatever his mum ordered of him for his final hours at home. He instead thought about what he would tell Madam Pomfrey because she’d likely have to be the one to help him with this little issue.
Kreacher however, studied him suspiciously as he gathered his things. He kept asking Regulus questions like, 'Will Master Regulus be needing this book?’ or ‘Which shirt is Master Regulus wanting to take?’ He just answered him with nods or shakes of the head and ignored whatever wasn’t a yes or no question.
He placed the two necklaces in the small pocket of his bag, the same one containing all of James’ notes before indicating to Kreacher that he was ready to go via a jerk of the head and shake of his hands.
The elf apparated them both to the platform instantly and Regulus finally breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the bright red train pulling into the station, screeching to a stop and billowing smoke out the front.
It was a sight he’d never grow tired of, even if he did think the train would look better in green.
All of his worries melted away now that he was here, away from the clutches of his family and Voldemort, who he had been blissfully able to stay away after their little dinner together.
Bellatrix continued to mention him often, bringing him along for more of her missions but none of them required bloodshed thankfully, instead they went hunting for magical artefacts, worked on recruitment, and spoke to various Ministry officials and subsequently Imperio’ing them if they did not fall into line.
It wasn’t enjoyable but better than the alternative he clearly knew more than enough about. He desperately wished to know how Abena’s child was but he hadn’t gotten a chance to check on him and now he’d be gone for a long while.
The last two months still weighed on him heavily, probably always would and he just knew that the next holiday, Christmas holiday, would likely contain much of the same but he pushed the thought of his mind for now.
People started piling into the train station and he turned to look around for his friends but was instead met with the searing sight of hazel eyes boring into him.
James.
He was staring at him with wide eyes, as though he was seeing him for the first time, and tension was written into every line of his body as though he were restraining himself from running over to him. His hands were clenched into fists and his feet were angled toward him almost magnetically.
Regulus could swear he saw his foot move an inch in his direction.
They could be the only two people on the platform for how everyone else seemed to just melt away, leaving the two of them alone there.
A breathtakingly beautiful smile broke out on James’ face and Regulus felt like he had been locked away in a dark room for two months and only now was the Sun shining on him again. He missed James’ warmth desperately. He wanted to hold his hands, run his cold fingers along his brow, and wrap his arms around him, anything to get closer.
He ached for so much in the span of a single moment.
Then from behind James, Monty waved at him and Regulus was forced to awkwardly wave back, catching the attention of James and Sirius as well, who stared at the interaction with confusion.
It was odd enough to snap him out of that trance and he sent Kreacher away with a kind wave before boarding the train.
It was still rather early, they had about an hour and a half before the train was scheduled to depart and most people tended to board in the last fifteen minutes as they weren’t as eager as him to leave their families.
He made his way to the usual cabin he shared with his friends towards the back, shutting the door behind him and settling down on his bench, rummaging in his bag to pull out a book to pass the time as he listened to the low hum on the train.
Only a few minutes passed before the door to his cabin was thrown open and he was about to say something in protest before he remembered he couldn’t and he resorted to throwing the intruder an angry look.
Only it was James and he looked so lovely and even more beautiful than Regulus had remembered that his breath was taken away.
There was a moment of taut silence before James crumbled, throwing his arms out wide and moving towards him with a shaky smile and it was like something snapped in him and Regulus jumped from his seat and onto James, slamming the door shut again and pulling the window shades down all while he tackled him.
The compartment was small but he still latched onto James who easily carried his weight, manoeuvring him so that his hands rested just under his hips as Regulus wrapped his legs around his middle, eager to be as close to him as possible after so much time apart.
James buried his head in his neck, “Gods I missed you so much Reg,” he whispered and the words were like music to his hears/
He held onto him tighter and used that clever trick of his again to speak into James’ mind, “ I missed you too.”
James just laughed as he pulled away and Regulus disentangled himself from him though James kept a tight hold on his hands, pulling him in instead for a lingering kiss.
It started out light, hesitant, as though testing Regulus’ feelings but once Regulus responded with equal need, James let go of restraint, his tongue brushing against the seam of his lips before pushing through. Thrills of want burst through Regulus as he dug his fingers into James’ hair, pulling just slightly at the hair at his nape.
A low keening sound elicited from James and it exhilarated Regulus further to know that James missed him just as much as he did him.
James pulled back for just a moment, his forehead resting against Regulus’ and his pupils were blown wide as he spoke, “Did you get my letters?”
He nodded eagerly, his fingers trailing small circles into James’ neck. He missed the feel of him so much, the way their bodies moulded together so perfectly that it was simply meant to be, no matter how much he disagreed with the notion of ‘fate.’
“Your letter was interesting,” he whispered against his lips with a laugh.
Regulus just dropped another kiss onto his lips, unable to stay away for long.
James brought a hand up to his cheek, caressing the smooth skin there and whispered, “I missed the sound of your voice,” he kissed his lips, “Your smile,” he kissed the edge of his mouth, “your eyes,” he kissed his temple, “your nose,” he kissed the tip of his nose.
“Did you come back as you are?” he asked, referencing his plea from before the holiday. “Please tell me you’re okay,” he begged.
Regulus nodded fervently, gripping James’ sides hard enough to probably hurt.
“Talk to me please,” James whispered against his lips, desperation lacing every word.
Regulus could only stare into his eyes, falling into his embrace, as he said, “ I can’t.”
“Why?” he asked so innocently that it was almost like a physical blow.
“ I got sick over holiday, the Healers told me to not speak for a few weeks or until it gets better,” he answered.
Lying to James felt like the worst of sins but it was necessary. Regulus couldn’t possibly tell him the truth- it would be too much for either of them but especially James who just didn’t understand his family dynamic or why they had even gotten into that situation in the first place.
He couldn’t tell James that he and Bellatrix were duelling to make him a more creative killer or that Voldemort wanted him to work on his skills to make for a better soldier.
He wanted to keep James far away from that part of his life.
James’ expression just softened further, “But you’re better now?” His fingers trailed just under the hem of his shirt, skirting against the sensitive skin there and causing heat to pool in his belly.
Regulus nodded earnestly.
“Now what was that with my dad ?” he asked, unable to contain his laughter.
“ Didn’t Monty tell you? We’re mates now, ” Regulus teased.
James guffawed in laughter as he shook his head fondly, “You are full of surprises aren’t you.”
Regulus bit his lips as he nodded before pushing James back, causing the backs of his knees to hit the bench and seating him. He looked up at Regulus, resting his hands on his hips before pulling them toward him and Regulus fell easily into his lap, straddling him, his hands resting on James’ shoulders.
James just groaned, “Gods,” as his head tilted back, his doe eyes staring up at Regulus with pure want.
He looked at Regulus as though he held the entire world in his hands and Regulus didn’t even want to know how he looked at James because it was probably sad just how wrapped around his finger he was.
James’ fingers tightened against his sides, spurring him on, and Regulus licked his lips before leaning back down and they moved as one, Regulus kissing him, James biting on his bottom lip, making him gasp and roll his hips.
James was practically shaking as he held Regulus, “I’ve been thinking about you all summer. I thought you wouldn’t- I almost expected you to throw me out of here,” he gasped and Regulus wanted to smack him for being so stupid. How could he ever imagine Regulus rejecting him?
Regulus just answered by moving his hips against, grinding down against James and moving his hands to his tie, pulling it loose before unbuttoning the buttons at his collar so that he could gain access to the glorious column of his neck. He smelled like jasmine and sandalwood and Regulus greedily inhaled his scent before biting his neck, making James moan before he quickly peppered the spot with kisses, soothing the sting.
They were so lost in each other that they didn’t even notice the noise inside the train steadily increase and it was only when someone bumped against their door that they jumped apart, terrified that someone had just walked in.
Only after that momentary fear dissipated did they return to themselves, breathing heavily and staring at each other, basking in each other's presence.
Regulus wrinkled his nose a bit as he noticed the trail of love bites spanning from under his jaw down to his collarbone, they were red now but he knew they’d soon deepen to purple. He supposed he should feel a bit embarrassed but considering just how excited James was right now under him, he couldn’t find it in himself to be.
“ You should go ,” Regulus said kindly to James, running a pale finger across his cheekbone that was dusted with little freckles after the summer.
“But I don’t want to,” James frowned, dropping head down onto Regulus’ chest, his arms curling around him tightly.
Another jolt to their door had Regulus climbing out of his lap, pulling him up, and redirecting him out the door.
He threw James out and apparently right into the waiting arms of Barty.
“Fancy seeing you here Potter,” he drawled, hauling him back up and back.
James looked terrified as he looked at Barty, back to him, and to Evan and Dorcas behind him. He quickly stammered, “I- Regulus- er, Black was just-.”
“You really are hopeless,” Barty rolled his eyes, “We know, obviously.”
“Oh my gods Reg, you literally mauled him,” Dorcas said wide-eyed, pointing at James’ neck.
James hastily fixed his tie and pulled his collar up high, “Thanks.” It was no use fixing his hair, if anything Regulus made it look better than it had before.
“Mhm,” they all said in unison.
Regulus thought it was rather cute seeing James all flustered in the face of his friends but he also felt a bit sorry for him. With a final lingering look, he stepped back into the cabin, his friends right behind him.
He explained what happened to his friends quickly and settled back in for the long train ride to school.
He shut his eyes and pulled his robes tighter around himself and as if on cue, he shoved his hands in his pockets and there was a small folded piece of parchment.
My love,
Lake tonight! I hope you’ve still got your swimming costume
Missed you so much
Yours,
J.P.
He fought to keep a ridiculous smile off his face.