dared to believe
He felt a frenzy of images assault him all at once, each scene flashing before him before fleeting in a blur of colours and sounds that he couldn’t possibly discern. He was gasping, convulsing on the floor before all at once- it subsided, everything slowly bleeding away till he was ensconced in a cool and weightless darkness.
What’s happening? He thought helplessly to himself before answering his own question almost immediately- It’s the diadem, it’s Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem.
Most people knew that the diadem existed through lore but no one actually knew where it was- presumed to be lost to time and history but yet, here it was, open and unguarded for anyone to come by. Presumably, the person who had placed it here had assumed no one would ever find it but somehow Regulus managed it.
Euphoria surged through him, stronger than he would ever normally feel, and it gave him the power to open his eyes, to stand up and brush the dust off his robes to look around once more.
The Room of Requirement took on any form the chosen person required, he and James always needed a secluded space where they could spend time with each other so they were given a suite, but now he needed somewhere to hide his books, and he was presented with this room of lost things? Discarded things? Whatever it was.
But why would someone put such an incredible item in all of this waste? They were trying to hide it , his mind, or perhaps the diadem, supplied.
It felt like there was someone else in his mind, quickly connecting dendrites to axons, speeding up his processing abilities, and allowing him to come up with a multitude of conclusions and possibilities at lightning speed.
How many square feet is Hogwarts? Roughly 400,000 square feet, obviously . It was like him and not him all at once and he was amazed.
He crossed his legs, eyes shut, as he thought on and on about any and all questions he had ever had in his life and while some questions even he couldn’t answer, he was able to answer hundreds of things he might not have ever been able to previously. He was quickly becoming addicted to the rush of magic and thrill that coursed through him, the feeling like a drug.
He felt disconnected from his body entirely, like a celestial being ready to float through the ceiling if given a chance.
Then suddenly, a sharp pang struck him deep in his sternum. The feeling faded, only to come back stronger and deeper, like a knife had been shoved right into his centre. He wheezed and doubled over as the knife twisted and tore jagged lines through him. His hands struck the floor as he knelt over but when he grappled at his chest, he found nothing there.
“What’s happening to me?” he choked out to no one in particular, unable to control his motor functions as the words spilled from his lips.
Knowledge comes at a price.
His eyes were not his own as flashes appeared to him, a cliffside with roaring water underneath, a dilapidated shack, the Potions classroom, a dark forest, all at once meshing and stretching and pulling and he couldn’t understand, couldn’t see whether there was some sort of reasoning to all of this or whether these were his own memories or someone else’s.
He dropped his head and the diadem fell off, clattering to the floor with a metallic echo and all of his sensations ceased, freezing and freeing him.
His breath came out short and strangled but as he stared at the diadem, he knew this was not Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem, at least not in its original form. All the while he saw those flickers of images, he heard a voice, deep in his mind, saying a chant or a prayer all while cackling maliciously at his pain in the background.
Whatever this was, it was not natural, but now that it was off his head, he already missed the initial euphoria he felt, already tempted to put it back on. His arm was outstretched but he shut his palm before making contact, dropping it safely to his side instead.
He wrapped the diadem back up in the initial bag he had found it in, picked up his books and left, not daring to look over his shoulder as he stormed out of the room.
Though once he stepped out, he had to shield his eyes with his arm, struck by the sunlight flooding the corridor.
“ Tempus! ” he muttered and couldn’t quite believe the glowing ‘11:52 A.M.’ hovering before him. More than twelve hours had passed since he went into the room he had just exited and yet to him, it felt like no more than an hour or two.
He rushed to his dorm, trying and failing to pretend that everything was okay.
__________
The following day did not bode any better for he woke up to the news that their Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, Gregoria Serpen, had passed away.
He read the title on a discarded copy of the Prophet in the Common Room, shocked and bewildered all at once.
She was just slightly over middle-aged with auburn hair and bright blue eyes. She was incredibly talented in her field and passionate about teaching, never testing them unfairly or putting them down if they lost a duel, instead focusing on developing their skill and overall wellbeing. She was healthy and seemed perfectly well before the holiday but now she had left behind a wife and two young children.
The Great Hall was in uproar, or perhaps as much uproar as a handful of students could really make but still, everyone was talking about it and Regulus was unable to catch much from his spot alone at his table but he continued to eye everyone else in the room. He was growing increasingly irate at being left out of whatever was circulating for no one else in the room was necessarily sad or morose but rather alert and curious with their sneaking glances and lowered voices.
Though to be fair, most things made him irate in the past few days.
He hasn’t been sleeping nor eating since he had obtained the diadem. He could hear its whispers against the shell of his ear, its’ tantalising touches across his flesh, the desire that coursed through him begging him to put the diadem on but it only lasted long enough till the pleasure turned to pain and he was forced to his knees for the sheer sake of living. While he left the diadem behind that first day, he had since taken to storing it in his room just to save himself the trip.
It was an endless cycle and he was no closer to figuring out what the diadem was than he was at the start, only that whatever it was, it was wrong because the only other time he had ever felt that stabbing pain before was when his magical core was being threatened with dark magic.
A boy, a few years below him and a few tables down, gasped as a girl from Gryffindor whispered something in his ear and when she left, Regulus stood up and sat right down next to him-
“What did she tell you?”
“I- what?” he looked at him as though Voldemort himself had sat down next to him.
“What’s everybody talking about? Something with the DADA professor?”
The boy’s big brown eyes blinked owlishly up at him,
“You speak English, don’t you?” Regulus interrogated.
He blushed furiously now, “Dana, a Ravenclaw second year, said her da is an Auror and that Professor Serpen’s death was a murder .”
“A murder?” he repeated aloud, befuddled at the outlandish conclusion. He hadn’t read the news article but even still, to him it sounded like quite the leap.
“Mhm,” he nodded, “Said her house is a crime scene now. She was home alone when it happened but by the time Auror’s got there, she was dead and the killer escaped. He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about it but since it was a Hogwarts professor, he figured she ought to know, plus she’s a bit of a strange target. She was a half-blood, well-liked, not really a sort of prime suspect y’know?”
“Right,” Regulus nodded before standing up and heading out, his brain spinning with possibilities as he walked towards the Potions classroom to work with Slughorn again because of course, he would stay and make him work even over the holiday.
The Potions classroom was darker than usual and a slow song played over the small radio Slughorn often employed to escape the silence. It created an eerie vibe when he stepped in and he thought he was alone until he heard clatter in the back a moment before Slughorn materialised.
“Professor?” he called out and Slughorn startled, somehow surprised to see him here.
“Oh! Mr. Black,” he replied then looked around tiredly, bags hanging low and heavy under his eyes, “You don’t need to come in today, I’m sure you saw what happened and need some time…”
“Frankly Professor, I think I’d appreciate having something to do to keep myself busy,” he smiled tightly.
He nodded then finally decided, “I suppose you can do a bit of rearranging in the ingredients cabinet, it’s been a bit of a mess since the holiday started.”
Regulus agreed and went back to the closet and saw Slughorn was definitely not lying when it came to the mess in here but he still couldn’t quite get his mind off of what was affecting Slughorn so much. He hadn’t so much as seen Slughorn ever interacting with Serpen and whatever this was it certainly wasn’t grief,
“I’m sorry to hear what happened, I’m sure you were close with Serpen,” he called out over his shoulder because for all he became exasperated with Slughorn, he was still one of the better professors he’d had and was quite funny sometimes, though he’d never admit that.
“Ah yes, it is a great shame, I remember when I first became a teacher, she was already in her seventh year. I always knew she’d become a professor but I thought she had a knack for Potions,” Slughorn recounted as Regulus continued refilling bottles and placing them in a somewhat sensible order.
“Seems you’re quite good at telling which students will stand out in their future,” Regulus huffed because while the Slug Club seemed like a heap of nonsense, more often than not, those in attendance do go on to do great things.
“Yes, well…I try,” he said, much quieter now and Regulus stayed quiet as well, still unnerved by his solemnity.
He stepped out of the closet to get another label to add to a jar when Slughorn looked up at him from his desk, now a small smile on his face, “Your father was quite horrible at Potions, if I’m being honest. I always thought he’d be like your uncle but he blew up a cauldron on his first day and I just knew from then he’d be hopeless.”
Against his oath, he laughed, his shoulders shaking at the thought of his father with his eyebrows blown off, “My uncle was the Potions prodigy of his day then?”
“He er- was one of them,” the old professor abruptly stopped laughing and busied himself with a stack of parchment at his side, rearranging them on his desk.
Regulus walked over to his desk, “Can I use your quill professor? For this-” he held up the bottle and Slughorn quickly grabbed one and held it out, avoiding his gaze. He turned back and had the strength to ask, “Was it Tom Riddle then?”
Deep, harrowing silence filled the classroom, leaving the only sound being Regulus’ short and tight breaths. He had the sudden feeling he had made a misstep, had somehow slipped over the edge of a cliff and was now forced into freefall. He was too afraid to turn around and focused intently on writing what he needed to on the label, forcing his posture to remain calm.
He didn’t know why he had said it but he was the only unaccounted for character in that yearbook and it made sense that maybe it’d be him but it seemed he had misjudged.
“How- how do you know that name?” he finally asked and Regulus slowly faced him, hand trembling at his side.
“I just, I saw it in a book in the Library is all, it was a Potions text so…” he came up with a sort-of believable lie.
Slughorn’s eyes narrowed, “Mr. Black, I think you’ve done enough for today, you may go.”
“Sir, I’m sorry if I made a mistake but-”
Slughorn was up in an instant, stomping towards him and halting just a few feet away, “In all of my years of teaching, I’ve come across hundreds of different students but only a select few remain in my memory. Mr. Riddle was one of those characters, deeply troubled, incredibly intelligent, and too curious for his own good. You remind me of him so starkly it worries me so I must ask you to leave Mr. Black, please enjoy the rest of your holiday.” His face twisted once he'd finished, regretting what he'd said, like the words had taken a life of their own and burst out of him. He wrung his hands together and turned away.
He walked out of his own classroom then, seemingly unable to even inhabit the same space as Regulus for too long, and left him stumped.
His voice was so grave and emotionally charged that Regulus couldn’t possibly understand this Riddle character and why he mattered so much to Slughorn.
He might as well attach the bloody label to the bottle so he pasted it on, went back to the closet, organised whatever little bit he could do, and stepped out, shutting the small lightbulb within off. Lastly, he went to Slughorn’s desk and dropped the quill off there but the contents of his desk caught his attention.
Underneath a sheaf of papers, was a small black book simple in design, and the cover just said, The Darkest Magicks; 1647 . He flipped back the cover with a single finger and in bold lettering, Banned by Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in 1942. All school books had a small section on the first page allowing students to list when they had borrowed the book from the library and sure enough, the name T. Riddle was scribbled into it. This was likely why Slughorn was rearranging the parchment on his desk- he was hiding it.
Regulus quickly snatched up the book, dropped it into the pocket of his robes, and left the classroom much like he left the Room of Hidden Things- his mind whirring and heart pounding.
_________
The holiday ended with Regulus quite possibly on the brink of insanity.
The book he had stolen from Slughorn was sat precariously at a table in the room of Hidden things because he was sure the minute he opened it, Slughorn would somehow find it and him and expel him from the school because he was apparently suspicious like Tom Riddle; the diadem still whispered to him nearly every night and he gave in only to get ‘stabbed’ about two hours in; and he still had the dark mark that burned far more often than it should etched into his arm.
On the other hand, his friends were coming back so at least he had that.
They piled into his room the minute they got off the train and he basked in their rushed chatter and excited storytelling, forgetting what he had gone through over the holiday, if for a brief moment.
Dorcas talked about the time she spent with her family, Pandora talked about the time she spent away from her family with Xenophilius in his small countryside home, and Evan and Barty mostly just talked about what they did as they ambled around their homes steering clear away from their fathers.
Though among all of it, he felt an odd undercurrent run through the group in their quick glances and swift conversation switches that felt a bit too smooth to be real, as though it had been rehearsed and he wanted to know why-
“What is it then?” he finally asked aloud to each of them, scanning and making eye contact with everyone as they were settled all around his small dorm.
“What do you mean?” Barty asked but Regulus’ eyes stuck to Pandora who was the most anxious of all of them, easily giving them all up.
“You’re all not telling me something and I want to know what it is.”
“We’re not,” Barty protested and in the jut of his jaw and quick defensiveness, Regulus knew he was right.
“I’ll wait,” he argued, crossing his arms and leaning back on his bed, refusing to speak until one of them gave up and, predictably, Dorcas was the one to break the truth,
“The Potters adopted Sirius, officially. He is their son in every sense of the word…” she trailed off, biting her lip nervously as her dark eyes surveyed him, trailing over his face searching for some reaction out of him.
His instincts took over, jaw clenching and surprise washing over him like a tidal wave, he felt suddenly hot and uncomfortable, “I mean wasn’t he always,” he wanted to sound neutral but his voice came out high and nervous, then because he was unable to stop himself, “How do you know?”
Evan sighed then and took over, “Well you know Dorcas’ dad works in the Accounts department in the Ministry. He’s the one that spoke to the Potters in order to transfer Sirius’ Gringotts’ account under their name and they told him the rest. They said they knew Sirius was their son and just wanted to…make it official, I s’pose.”
“What, like mum was just going to go back and take him? She didn’t want him anyway,” he pushed out defensively, crossing his arms before uncrossing them. He felt like he was under a microscope under the weight of each of their stares.
He noticed they did this more and more often lately.
He constantly felt like they thought he was a ticking time bomb- one wrong thing and he’d blow up. They seemed to constantly share information with each other first before breaking it to him slowly, forcing open expressions and placid smiles so as to not agitate him like he was a zoo animal. He knew they cared but they were treading the line between simply caring and coddling him and he did not need coddling.
He would rather have a thousand meltdowns, health scares, and injuries before he’d ever let anyone coddle him especially not after all he’s been through and done.
Still, this business with Sirius- it hurt, though he’d never admit it. He knew Sirius belonged with the Potters, more than he ever belonged with them, but to make it official was like a slap in this face, a final ‘fuck you’ on his way out despite the fact that he’d been gone for years anyways.
“Stop looking at me like that!” he finally burst out, arms flailing when the silence became suffocating. “If you’re all expecting me to have some sort of breakdown, I’m not, so stop making it such a big deal.”
“We’re not, we just wanted you to know is all,” Barty came forward. His hair was so long now, tattoos littering his arms and hands. He looked somehow older now, or perhaps Regulus just hadn’t noticed the passage of time, still seeing Barty through the lens of their first-year, his first and only friend till the rest came along.
“You actually didn't, did you? I had to pry it out of you because you were all too scared to tell me,” Regulus frowned.
“Clearly we had a reason why, look at you,” he shot back fiercely.
“Look at me, what? I’m fine ,” he spoke a bit too loudly and there was a loud clatter.
The books on the small case in the room flew off their shelves, scattered across their floor like a house of cards once hit with a slight wind. Regulus knew he had caused that but it somehow didn’t register. He hadn’t had an accidental bout of magic in years and now he was blowing up over something he already knew?
He waved a hand and the books righted themselves, floating back onto the shelves gently, “I’m going to get some air” he murmured, stepping out.
He left the room and once the door shut behind him, he loosed a deep breath, already feeling much calmer, like some veil had been lifted and he could see clearly now. He could’ve turned back in but he was just embarrassed now so he continued walking out into the already fuller halls with no real destination in mind.
All the students around him were chatting excitedly amongst each other, filling them in on what they missed in the week apart as though it was a lifetime, but he drowned it all out and kept walking till he was outside again.
It was still a bit chilly, as Scotland tended to always be, but it was temperate, no rustling breeze or obstructing clouds as he looked up and saw stars twinkling above him like pin pricks stamped into onyx silk.
His legs moved of their own volition, having a mind of their own as he headed down to the Black Lake, his ‘third place’ as he liked to call it.
Most students in the castle had one. Their first place would be their dorms, where they slept and lived in and spent majority of their time in; their second place would be the classrooms where they went daily but for work, that was all really; the third place was wherever they chose as their leisure space, to spend time away from the other two, to simply enjoy.
For some it was the Astronomy Tower, others the Owlery or Library, some the courtyards or the Great Hall but for him- it was the Lake. He just hadn’t realised that till James came waltzing into his life and showed him the beauty of the space. Before that though it might have been the Astronomy Tower or the Library, he just didn’t quite identify with those spaces anymore though.
He sat down on the sand along the Lake, choosing to ignore the dampness seeping into his trousers and instead focusing on the waves that hit the shore before reeling back and repeating, the small bugs that flitted about, the ripples in the water at the slightest movement.
He pulled his knees up under his chin and stared out, basking in the silence and serenity of the space. So often he felt like he was running, to or from something depending on the day, and if he wasn’t physically on the move then he was mentally, so he took advantage of the calmness present in that moment.
He thought about his friends in his dorm beneath him and had developed another horrible theory about the diadem- Since having it, he had been more irritated than usual. He tried to attribute it to the lack of sleep because of the diadem’s whispers but he couldn’t help but think it was the diadem itself and the darkness within that rubbed off on him.
It was the same theory he held about the stabbing sensation that came with wearing the diadem- it was infused with dark magic. He didn’t know whether it was necessarily possible to do something like that but the evidence was in front of him.
He thought he might have seen something like that in his research, some word for that kind of object or some description but he wasn’t sure anymore. He needed to start organising his work if he was to make any headway and perhaps actually opening Slughorn’s book would provide some context.
The tides were high tonight and the waves started licking at his boots, coaxing him in and for some reason, today he felt compelled to answer. His arm had also started to burn a bit, it meant Voldemort was far away, the distance between them incredibly great, but he was still calling his soldiers which never went over well. He didn’t know whether it was a good or bad thing that he was getting used to the feeling of it.
The Lake was exceptionally lonely and cold without James at his side and with nothing else to do, he transfigured his clothes, turning his button up and trousers into some semblance of a swimming costume while folding the rest of his clothes and setting them a few paces up to ensure they weren’t at risk of getting caught in the rising waves.
He slowly stepped in, the fear he once held about water far gone and replaced with distant fondness. It would have been less distant with James closeby but it didn’t do to dwell.
The Lake swallowed him up and he went as far as he could go with his feet still touching the bottom until another wave hit and the sand beneath him crumbled and he let himself be pulled into the current, treading water to stay afloat.
He ducked his head under once, twice, enjoying the pressure and silence that came with being under the water. It felt like being wrapped in a cool blanket, touched and unstrung all at once, being thrown into the night sky left to float weightlessly.
It was what he needed tonight.
He inhaled a deep breath and ceased his movements, feeling himself go under the water, suspended in all time and space.
It would be so easy he thought- to drown. When he was compelled into the water, he was terrified, desperate to find purchase, so desperate to live - that version of Regulus didn’t know what was waiting for him but now that he was on the other side, he wondered if it was even worth it to keep going, to keep trying when this felt so much better.
He sank slightly deeper and wondered if there was even a bottom to this Lake.
This would be a nice place to die in he thought horribly. It was wrong, he knew it was, but he couldn’t push the thought away. He needn’t worry about anything that awaited him on the surface of the Lake if he chose that route.
Without thought, his lips parted, his last bit of oxygen rushing out as water rushed in, his lungs tightened, and his limbs tingled and yet, he couldn’t find any part of him that was upset. This wasn’t how he started his day but it had been so long since he’d been in the Lake and it was the place that was most special for him and James.
How many times had they brushed up against each other here, when their touches went from stiff and distant to soft and passionate, when accidents turned into intentional acts, when their arguments turned into sweet nothings.
He was happy to be here.
The water above him burst to life, the stillness of the moment shattered as though a shark entered the water and everything scrambled away, he opened his eyes and couldn’t see anything but darkness above and below him, he couldn’t even tell which way was what and suddenly he became nervous with reality sinking in.
He felt himself being grabbed, yanked away, and his first thought was that it was a kelpie, the water-inhabiting creatures with sharp nails and yellow eyes that liked to feast on human flesh. He had a nightmare about this once and he knew there were rumours that they lived in the Lake so he began thrashing wildly, terrified that he might meet his end at the end of their claws.
The arms didn’t let even as he scratched at them and tried to elbow them from in front but they were incredibly strong and once they breached the surface he thrust his head backward blindly and when it released him with a shout, he swam madly towards shore, water splashing up behind him, his arms weak and uncoordinated but still doing their job.
He scrambled up to the shore and turned to see his captor but it was just James. When wasn’t it James?
“What the hell is wrong with you!” Regulus shouted breathlessly, his blood still rushing in his ears, heart pumping so loud he was sure James could hear it.
“Me?” he screeched, swimming right up to him, standing up so quickly Regulus was surprised he hadn’t just tipped over, “I was just trying to save your life . You were under there for so long ! I-” he turned away, bringing both his hands up to scrub harshly at his face. He started pacing, “You- I mean you didn’t even try? What- Why? I-.” He couldn’t finish a single sentence.
“I didn’t ask you to do that!” Regulus shouted, immediately on the defensive. He had been caught and was embarrassed that James thought he needed help but he’d just thoroughly interrupted him.
“So I was just supposed to let you die ? You know how to atleast save yourself in the water but what the hell’s wrong with you, it’s- it’s like you weren’t even trying-!”
“Because I wasn’t!”
It was the same sort of silence he and Slughorn fell into, the one where Regulus said something wrong, something he didn’t quite mean to, and didn't know how to take it back.
James froze on the spot, turning his head only slightly to look at him from the corner of his shiny eyes. His chin trembled, his hands quaked, his entire body shook as water droplets clung to him for as long they could before giving away, slipping right off of him like Regulus had. He was so tall but at this moment he looked infinitely small.
“I didn’t even mean it like that,” Regulus whispered quietly, looking into the forest now. He had lied to James so many times, he had to accept doing it one last time.
With James so still, he spotted the dried blood on his nose, the last specks the water hadn’t washed away and felt even worse, “I- I thought you were a kelpie,” then, “I just wasn’t expecting you.”
He kept talking to fill the awkward silence between them, a job James used to handle with ease and suave, ready to talk about anything for forever but now he was rendered speechless.
“I was watching you from the courtyard, you went under the water and just didn’t come up, I- I thought you would but you just…didn’t. I-,” he crumpled then, burying his face in his downturned head, trying to stifle his rushing emotions but he couldn’t and against Regulus’ better judgement, he stepped forward.
He grasped each of James’ hands and coaxed them down and stooped lower to catch James’ eyes, “Hey- hey,” he whispered, “I’m fine. I’m right here and I’m fine.”
James just moved out of his grasp, “What were you doing then huh?”
“I just,” he shrugged to punctuate the sentence, as though the simple movement would clear everything up.
“Regulus.”
“James.”
“I’m serious, tell me I’m wrong and I’ll drop it,” he stated.
“You’re wrong,” Regulus shrugged again, trying to smile to satiate his accusations but it only seemed to convince him that he was lying even more.
“You’re a bad liar, do you even know what would've happened if I wasn’t here? I mean do you really think of the consequences of what you do?” he pointed a harsh finger in his direction, his hazel eyes burning under the moonlight. He was more tanned from the holiday, the muscles of his arms and legs more defined, but Regulus could barely take any of it in.
“James I’m-.”
“No, let me speak ,” he declared and Regulus conceded, “Nevermind your family and or friends, even yourself since you don’t seem to care. If you’d- gods I can’t even say it,” he gasped, “I wouldn’t be able to do anything, I wouldn’t be able to just go on. I can’t do anything without you Regulus . You broke up with me, I know you did, but I can’t accept it, I refuse to, because I’ve never felt for anyone the way I feel about you and it’ll never be possible again. I swear it and I know you feel the same .”
Regulus wasn’t breathing, James with his ramblings and tears had simply taken in all the oxygen in the world. Here he was, baring his soul to Regulus, not debating or bartering with him anymore but forcing him to listen to his side and feelings. So often Regulus was the one calling the shots, forcing James to stand aside and take it but now James was reclaiming his power and reclaiming this relationship.
Regulus didn’t have the authority to end it, that much was clear, and if he thought he had that sort of power then James certainly had the authority to fight for it, to tape up the holes and drain the water and save this sinking ship they’d found themselves on.
“You can’t just do this ,” Regulus gesticulated, “The mark-.”
“I’m tired of hearing about it Regulus, I’m so so tired of you using it as an excuse . Don’t you think I’ve asked myself that a million times, pored over how I could still do this when you have that mark, when you’ve staked your claim, I know exactly what it means and I still can’t find myself using it as some sort of logical explanation to end this because I keep coming to the same conclusion.”
“Which is?” Regulus pushed.
“I love you,” James spoke, the words came out strangled, like it physically hurt James to say them out loud.
Then he pushed into the carefully constructed wall Regulus had just almost completed, hit his vulnerable spots, and grasped his cool face between his burning hands. His lips were just a tender brush against his, a question, a request, and Regulus tilted his hand, bringing his hands up to James’ neck.
He answered in full, pressing his lips against Regulus’ more firmly now, and it was like they had never separated. The way Regulus’ hands rested perfectly in the groove of James’ neck and the way James’ hands fit into Regulus sides’, the way they moved as one against each other was incomparable. James’ signature scent of jasmine had Regulus feeling like he was in a meadow, the scent intoxicating, and when he wound his fingers into the fine hair at the nape of his neck, it was like silk.
A small whining noise escaped James’ lips, his fingers tightening at Regulus’ sides and Regulus had to break apart to catch his breath, his forehead leaning against James’,
“I don’t know how to do this James, I don’t know how to do any of this and I just feel- I feel so alone,” Regulus finally pleaded. It was his turn to get emotional and release everything that had been building inside him for months.
“You’re not alone Regulus, you never have been and you’re certainly not now,” James assured him. “Please,” James pleaded. Regulus couldn’t tell what it was specifically meant for but he still understood the nameless need James had, for him to stay here, to speak to him, to allow him to stay at his side instead of pushing him away.
“Why were you here James?” he finally said, so close to James he could see the gold flecks in his eyes.
“I’ve come here every night, I’ve just been- been hoping you’d come so we could talk in the place we started it all,” he whispered. Regulus kissed him again and this time the tenderness gave way to passion and Regulus bit James’ bottom lip, his teeth sinking against his hot flesh and James keened, slipping his tongue into Regulus’ mouth.
It didn’t matter that their faces were a mess of water and tears, that they were still dripping wet, that they were freezing, all that mattered was this moment, this single crystalline moment in time where they were free to hold each other, to love each other without anyone else’s comments or inputs, not even their own.
“We’ll figure this out,” James promised before they broke apart and Regulus dared to believe him.
__________
They agreed to give each other space- to learn, to breathe, to accept, to grow.
A relationship was too much strain to place on eachother, especially now, but they couldn’t keep apart from each other because it was only causing them both to hurt, their souls and hearts to crumble and turn to dust.
It felt a bit like it did at the start of their relationship, when Regulus and James were still sneaking around the castle, catching fleeting glances at each other in public and doing everything else in private.
As April and May slipped away in a daze, June crept and pounced on them like a predator catching prey.
Regulus spoke to his friends more, understanding that pushing them away and hurting them to try and delay some sort of later hurt was the worst possible thing he could do and he hated to admit it but fixing his relationship with James was helping him fix his relationship with them. He was just so distraught over losing James that it was affecting all aspects of his life but he had managed to save himself and them all at once.
He spoke to Evan and Barty more, let them into his life a bit more as they let him into theirs and he finally got to see them love each other. So often Regulus was lost in his own thoughts that he missed the way their love truly blossomed- the way Barty always made Evan’s tea for him, how Evan constantly smoothed the back of Barty’s collar, how if one of them got up for something, they instinctively got two of them just for the other one. Regulus just assumed that’s how they were but he was starting to see it was just because they were special to one another, it was how they showed their love.
He and Sirius didn’t run into each other much, whether that was coincidence or not, Regulus wasn’t so sure but so long as they weren’t fighting, he was okay. He hated fighting with Sirius, even more so now that he was officially a Potter, but he got over that quickly enough considering he knew it was coming sooner or later.
He was riding a sort of high punctuated only by the diadem that continued to terrorise his thoughts.
He developed a sort of obsession to the object, putting it on a few times in the weeks when he felt its’ draw and after reading up more on magic, he knew it was because of his sensitivity to dark magic.
He wondered why others’ didn’t feel its presence and now knew his predisposition made it so he was practically destined to find it at one point or another. He had just sped up the process in his haste to hide his books and stumbled upon that room.
The diadem held a haunting familiarity but he didn’t quite know why. He didn’t even know who had sullied it with dark magic, but in the quiet moments when he stared at the silver metal and the blue sapphire contemplating, he didn’t feel alone. When he had it on, he heard garbled whispers and caught sight of a side profile of a figure or a hand but it slipped away too quickly to make sense.
He’d taken to putting it on while doing his research, knowing its power to increase wisdom would help, and finally decided to open Slughorn’s book that night after much procrastination. Surprisingly, Slughorn never suspected him for taking it, perhaps he forgot that he left it out but in any case, it helped Regulus now.
He was reading about dark artefacts when he came across a passage about Herpo the foul- a dark wizard who had bred the first ever basilisk, created dozens of dark spells still known today, and created a ‘horcrux.’
He was sitting on a small chair in the Room of Hidden Things, hunched over the book in the dim light of a small lamp he had found and struggled to make sense of the information being spewed at him.
He shut the book and put it aside once more though not without tabbing the page he was on because whether he somehow knew himself or the diadem was prompting him, it felt significant. He then reached into his bag and pulled out Uncle Alphard’s yearbook, grasping onto some familiarity and morbid curiosity.
He’d pretty much forgotten he was still wearing the diadem as he leaned back and flipped through the pages, flitting past pictures of a younger McGonagall, a similar looking Dumbledore, and other professors who he hadn’t gotten a chance to meet.
He lingered on the final page of Slytherin students of that year and focused on one of the final students- Tom Marvolo Riddle. The name stuck out to him so starkly and he’d never seen it anywhere else which was uncommon for anyone that had been in Slytherin House- they don’t often fade into obscurity so easily. It was like this Tom Riddle simply disappeared once he’d graduated,
Or changed his name the second voice in his head supplied helpfully, the tone curious and poignant.
Yeah but to what, he wondered as he traced a finger over his name.
He stared deep into Tom’s eyes, the dark and inky depths of them, and wondered who he was and where he’d gone. What he had done to spook Slughorn so thoroughly, had shaken him so much that the mere mention of him caused him to run away.
He felt the sharp pain burrow into him that told him it was time to take it off but he refused, staying in that painful state to elicit something from the diadem, another hint, another kernel of information.
A flash of images- the Black Lake, a basilisk jaw unhinging itself, the DADA classroom, the letters TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE swimming in front of him, and finally the picture of the man right in front of him.
At last, he heard a cool oil slick voice speak into his mind, “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me already.”