In Our Midst

August 16th, 1979

Part I, Regulus

Pureblood Galas are all silk and fine china. Beautiful things used once than locked away the moment the last guest leaves. Left to rot in the back of a cupboard until the next time there’s a need to show off. 

This one is a masquerade ball. Regulus is dressed in a black suit. Simple, but expensive. His mask covers only his eyes, all black and gold. Flowers are carved along the slope of his cheeks, and above his brow. The curve of his nose is sharp, the intricate pattern leading up into the vines. 

 Narcissa and him are to enter together, the youngest of their family. 

Narcissa comes dressed in a blue silken dress cut to show off the diamond necklace that was gifted to her by the Malfoy family at her wedding. Her mask is porcelain, decorated with a shifting array of greys and blues.

“You look lovely,” he says, holding out his arm. 

“Thank you,” she smiles, talking it.

He leads them into the main hall. They’re at Goyle’s Manner. Regulus has only been here once, and the memory sends shivers down his spine. 

This is where all initiates take the mark, and tonight they’ll see another. 

“Do you think he’ll go through with it?” Narcissa asks him in a whisper. 

“Most of them do.” 

“Yeah, but do you think he will?’

Regulus looks over to the boy in question, waiting at their assigned table. His jaw tighter than it needs to be as he drinks from a glass of champagne. But his posture is sure, and there’s a hungry look in his eyes. A fiery determination Regulus used to envy.

“Barty’s never been one to back down from a challenge.”

Narcissa goes to find Bellatrix, and Regulus heads over to his seat. 

“Reg,” Barty grins, raising his champagne to his lips. 

To anyone else it would look normal, but Regulus sees the subtle shake of his hands. Barty’s gotten good at hiding his fear. Better than he used to be. 

But not perfect. 

“You’re here early,” Regulus remarks, taking his seat next to him.

“They serve the best drinks first,” he drawls, words slightly slurred. Annoyance pangs in Regulus’ chest.

“How much have you had?” he hisses. “Barty, you’re taking the fucking mark tonight.” 

“Relax Reg, I’m Jus’ taking the edge off,” he brushes it off, tipping his glass back to down the rest. “It’s my last one, swear it.” 

Regulus glances around. Most people are stuck in their own conversations. His mother is talking to one of the council members on the wizardingmot. No one is paying them any attention. 

“You can still back out, you know. You don’t–if this is you proving something to your father–” 

“I don’t have anything to prove to him,” Barty bites out, the words sharp nails digging in. “He is nothing to me.”

“Okay,” Regulus says with an even tone, “I just wanted to make sure.”

“Well, I’m sure.” But Barty doesn’t look at him when he says it. 

“You know the price, it’s not…it won’t be easy.” 

“Just fuck off, would you? It’ll be done. That’s what matters.” 

“Fine.” Regulus stands, walks away. It’s best to give Barty a moment when he’s like this. All he’s done is grow into his volatile nature. One day, Barty is going to get himself killed. Regulus just hopes it’s not today.

Dinner is a crown roast. The speeches are long and boring, but he pays attention anyways. For better or worse, this crowd is the inner circle. Most plans will be revealed here.

Over thirty percent of the ministry has been infiltrated. An alarming number of those are in the legal department, giving them more than just a hand on the wheel when it comes to the acceptance or denial of new laws. 

The full moon is creeping closer, and werewolves under Greybacks control have a plan to flood Hogwarts grounds. Students gathering ingredients for potions, sneaking out for some fresh air, or a smoke…the mere thought of it sends panic crawling up Regulus’ throat but he keeps his face clear.

Finally, after dessert, Voldemort steps up to the centre of the stage. “The first time we held this event,” he looks over to Bellatrix with a cool fondness in his smile, “it was all secrets. We had to hide our power, our plans. But look at us,” he gestures around the room. There’s at least a hundred of them now. Some with sick smiles, some bored and ready to commence to the actual festivities. Regulus spots Rodolphus Lestrange yawning, and Bellatrix hits him on the arm. 

“Now, we can go where we like, can’t we?” he pauses as the room applauds, Regulus watches some of Greybacks men holler, wicked smiles on their faces. He blinks, almost doing a double take when he catches the eye of Remus Lupin sitting with them. As if he senses Regulus’ stare, Remus looks over. There’s nothing in his gaze, layers of masks making him look just like the others, but his jaw clenches a little tighter. 

What the fuck is Remus doing here? With them?

This wasn’t the fucking deal. 

He zones back in when he realises Voldemort has kept talking, “--and tonight, we add another to our ranks.” 

To his left, Barty stands up. Volemort catches the movement, a vicious twist in his mouth as he does. As Barty makes his way towards the stage, Regulus catches a glimpse of a stuttered breath, but then Barty is all walls. 

“Bartholomew Augustus Crouch Junior, quite a mouthful. Your father is head of the wizardingmot, correct?” 

“Yes sir.” 

Voldemort looks up at the crowd. Basking in it. He must feel so fucking powerful. 

“And why is it that you’ve joined us, Mr. Crouch.” 

“It’s the right thing to do,” Barty says astutely. “This is what the world is meant to be like.” 

Regulus swallows the lump in his throat. Sometimes with Barty he forgets. He forgets what they’re doing, and who he’s with. Regulus doesn’t know what the world is supposed to be like, but it can’t be this. He doesn’t want it to be this.

“Good answer,” Voldemort stands up straight, glancing at the man on his left, Morgan Goyle. Whispers something into her ear.

 Regulus pushes away the memory of standing where Barty stood. Morgan Goyle’s nose wrinkling at the sight of him. 

“Bit scrawny,” she’d said. “Isn’t his brother the more appropriate choice?” 

“Sirius has chosen his side,” Voldemort chided. “We’ll keep to our own, won’t we, Mr. Black.” 

A boy is dragged on stage. He’s covered in dirt, like they’d taken him from a forest. They probably had. Eyes wide, mouth gagged. He’s young.

“This is Collin Dearborn, younger brother of Caradoc Dearborn,” Voldemort announces pleasantly, as if there isn’t a hostage on stage. A boy that's about to die and his soul taken and warped into something else. Something that will mare Barty’s skin forever. 

Sometimes Regulus thinks the burning is the soul fighting back. 

Trying to exact its own revenge. 

“His brother got in our way during a raid for supplies. Killed one of our own.” He looks at Barty expectedly, “what do we do, Crouch? When they take one of ours.” 

“We make them regret it.” 

Voldemort just smiles. 

There’s no pause. 

No moment to prepare, or breathe. Nothing to hold the weight of what happens next. 

One moment, Collin Caradoc is on his knees. Barty’s wand is at his side.

The next inhale, the boy is dead; slumped over on the floor with frightened eyes staring at nothing, and one man stands above. 

Someone unties the gag that had been in his mouth. Regulus’ stomach lurches at the sight of his slack jaw. He remembers Caradoc from school. When his brother was in his first year, Caradoc was in his sixth, but he used to walk Collin to every class.

“On your knees, Crouch.” Voldemort commands. 

Barty falls.

“Arm out.” 

He does as he’s asked, pulling back his sleeve to reveal tanned, smooth skin. There’s a small scar on his wrist.

When he and Regulus were eleven, they climbed a tree together. 

Voldemort casts a spell over Colins dead body.

Just when they were nearing the top, Barty fell. The branches scraping at his skin as he did. 

 It doesn’t happen quickly, but over the course of a few moments, blue smoke starts to curl out of the slight gap in Colins mouth. His body twitches where it lies. Facial muscles pulling like even the dead flesh can feel it. 

Regulus’ heart dropped as he watched his friend plummet.

The smoke gathers, and Voldemort's wand leads it to the bare flesh of Barty’s arm. It trails along until it wraps itself viciously there. Sinks its teeth in and bites. Barty screams.

He hit the ground with a sickening thud, and Regulus rushed down as quickly as he could. But it was a Wych’s Elm tree, and it had not been an easy task to climb.

He screams and he keeps screaming. 

Bartys parents had come running when they heard Regulus’ scream for help. Barty’s leg was definitely broken, and Regulus wasn’t strong enough to carry him. Crouch Senior hadn’t hesitated before picking up Barty himself and running him into the house, Mrs. Crouch and Regulus following right behind.

The blue light burns away to red and blood drips from where the energy had cut into Barty’s arm, leaving the surrounding skin raw and blistered. 

Mrs. Crouch was a doctor, so she sat Barty down on the couch and got her kit. Regulus wasn’t allowed in the room. Mr. Crouch sat him on the kitchen counter and fixed the small cut on his face with shaking hands. He asked him if it hurts anywhere else and Regulus shook his head. 

There are tears in Barty’s eyes. He loses his balance and falls on his back. The light flashes, pulsing around him. Hot enough that Regulus feels his own eyes stinging. 

When he was allowed to see Barty his friend looked dazed, but was laughing at a joke his mom must’ve said. She gave him a tight hug, and Regulus got one too. All of Barty’s injuries have been healed except for a few small cuts on his arms his mother said were too stubborn. 

The light turns black, draws away from Bartys face, and body, centring in on his arm. Covers it with a hissing skull and snake. The skin around it is bloody, peeling off like someones taken a shaver to it, bone and muscle poking through. The healers rush forward, but Regulus can still see the small mark just below his wrist. 

That one never did heal quite right. 

Barty is pulled away by two men, taken into a back room where Regulus is sure there’s a competent doctor from St. Mungos to heal him up.

Collins' body is left on the stage while everyone talks, and laughs. There’s music playing somewhere, and he spots Lucius spinning a smiling Narcissa on the dance floor. 

Regulus glances over to where Remus had been sitting before. He’s staring in shock at Collins' body. Fear flits in Regulus’ heart. He’s being too obvious. 

Voldemort disappeared along with Barty, but he’ll be back soon.

Regulus needs to get up. Mingle. Show his face.

Instead he takes another drink. 

Someone sits next to him, and by the strong floral scent he knows its Bellatrix. 

“Where’s that other friend of yours, the one with the funny eyes?” 

“Evan, and it’s called Heterochromia. He stayed home tonight. Wasn’t feeling well.” Really he thinks Evan didn’t want to watch Barty do this to himself. The mark isn’t like just being on their side. Barty is making a target of himself. Flaunting it in the Ministry’s faces, making himself untouchable because with it Voldemort can call him away. Even if he’s in ministry custody. Even if he’s in Azkaban. It takes a great deal of effort to hold the mark at bay. 

“Too bad. He’s missed all the fun,” she sighs, pinching Regulus on the cheek before she walks away. 

Regulus does mingle, eventually gravitating towards Narcissa and Rodolphus by the refreshments table. 

Narcissa catches his eye and smiles, “Rodolphus was just telling me about your new potion. Well done Regulus.” 

“It’s nothing,” he shrugs. “Burdock root is already a blood thinner. Add it with some klerx beans and some unicorn blood and it becomes more concentrated.” 

“It’ll do damage is what it’ll do,” Rodophus gloats, giving Regulus a thump on the back. 

“It’s just my job.”

Narcissa narrows her eyes at him, but Rodolphus just shakes his head, thinking he's being modest. “I should be getting home soon,” Regulus adds. Placing his half empty glass on the table. “I have work to do.” 

“Alright,” Narcissa hands her champagne flute to Rodolphous. “Let me walk you out.” 

“I can go myself.”

She gives him a stern look.

He sighs, and lets her walk with him the same way they entered. 

Soon, they’re in the gardens, the Goyles really do have some beautiful specimens. Despite the darkness of the night, many of the flowers glow dully, creating a serene environment. The noise of the party fades, and all that can be heard is their footsteps along the path. 

“He did it,” Narcissa starts. “You were right.” 

“I was,” it comes out too flat. Her grip on his arm tightens before it loosens again. 

“Are you alright, Regulus?” 

He opens his mouth, half excuse, half confession on his tongue when a voice calls from behind them. 

“Regulus.” Cool and airy. A shiver down his spine. 

They turn, and Regulus comes face to face with Voldemort.

“I’d like a word before you go.”

Narcissa glances at him, a question in her gaze. He nods, letting go of her arm. “Of course My Lord.” 

Voldemort tilts his head, meaning for Regulus to follow him back to the house. It feels more like a tomb. 

But then, Voldemort takes them left, down the side of the manor towards the back entrance. 

“Is there a problem?” Regulus asks, interrupting the tense silence. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” the worst thing is he sounds upset about it. A touch of mocking in his tone. “It seems tonight's events were not as private as we’d hoped.” 

“Oh?” 

Voldemort stops at a black door, pulling the handle and holding it open for Regulus to enter. “It seems we have a spy in our midst.” 

Regulus enters the dark hallway, Voldemort close behind him. The floorboards creek under the weight of his shoes. The air hangs heavy with the tang of magic; an eerie silence on all sides thick enough to drive a fragile mind mad. There’s a staleness too, like the house elves haven’t been keeping up with their cleaning. When Voldemort casts a lumos, Regulus realizes why.

It’s a dungeon.

People called the Slytherin commons that sometimes.

“Where are you off to, Regulus? The Dungeons?”

“Is it true they make you sleep in cells?”

“Makes sense,” one boy sneered at him in the halls his first year. “Keeping snakes in a dark.”

The stench gets stronger. Body oder, boldly fluids, something damp and thick, a rot growing in the walls. His stomach roils in protest as he walks forward.

There’s cells lining the two sides, bars keeping figures hunched in the corners, bodies lurching forward as he passes, mouths moving in silent jeers. Out of the corner of his eye he spots a man lying on the ground, curled in a fetal position, shoulders shaking with sobs. As Regulus turns his head to get a closer look he catches the bright blue of his eyes. There’s something familiar in it.

Looking away, he realizes it’s the meek figure of Edgar Bones. A man who’s been missing in action for six months. He has a wife, Regulus recalls. James told him about her. She was pregnant when he got captured, but that was at least eight months ago.

Regulus pushes the thought out of his head before it can go any further.

When they reach the end of the hall, Voldemort takes the lead, swiping down the barren, dead end with his finger. The wall ripples, an illusion fading to reveal a normal door.

The room he walks into is perfectly round, the exception being one staircase leading up into the rest of the house, saving him from the claustrophobic feeling the brick walls create. There’s a red carpet covering most of the floor, and there, being held by two masked snatchers right in the middle is Severus Snape.

Well.

He wasn’t expecting that.

“Severus?” it comes out almost by accident.

He looks terrible, face bloody, bruises already forming under the swelling. Blood pours from the side of his head. There’s a trickle of it coming from his mouth too, and Regulus is willing to bet from the hazy look in his eye he’s got a concussion. Maybe some broken ribs.

“Black.”

Even tied up he sounds annoyed about it.

“We found him skulking around Byron Goyle’s office,” said one of the snatchers with a raspy voice, “he was holding plans to the building.”

“It makes sense, don’t you think?” Voldemort addresses him.

“Sense…” Regulus echoes, brain not quite catching up to the situation.

“He knew Pettigrew well in school,” Voldemort shrugs.

“Plus, he was a bit too fond of mudbloods for my liking,” says a voice from behind them.

Regulus turns to see the sneering face of Nicholas Mulciber standing by the door they came in, because apparently the universe hates him.

He wrinkles his nose at the sight of Severus, like he’s dirt under his shoe. Something that needs scrubbing. Then again, Mulciber looks at everyone like that. 

“Ah, Nicholas,” Voldemort claps, making his way over to him. “Thank you for joining us. Regulus will be needing your assistance.”

“Oh will he now?” For the first time Mucliber looks over at him, mouth breaking into a cruel twist. “I thought Black didn’t need help.”

“It’s a bit hard to make memoria eversor potion without the blood of an amplifier,” Regulus quips back, glancing at Voldemort. “Assuming that’s why I was summoned.

“Precisely,” Voldemort grinned.

Regulus tries not to, but he see’s Snape’s expression out of the corner of his eye. Eyes wide, mouth pressed tight with the faintest tremble.

It’s cruel, even by Voldemort’s standards.

“Why not just obliviate him?” one of the snatchers remarks.

“Severus here is an occlimens,” Voldemort explains. “You can never be too thorough with those.”

“Right. Well, let’s get this over with, shall we?” Mulciber ruffles Regulus’ hair with his hand, pushing past them and up the stairs, not even sparing Snape a glance.

Regulus follows him, but can’t seem to have the same detachment and glances down to see Snape’s binded and bruised body. He meets Regulus’ eyes, and in them is absolute sheer knowing. It sends a sharp pain through Regulus’ chest.

Snape knows.

Snape knows and they could beat it out of him before he’s done with the potion.

Snape knows, and he’s kept his secret when he could use it to clear his name. Frame Regulus for the reason for his actions. So why? Why hasn’t he done it.

He follows Mulciber up the stairs with his chest pulling tight and ears ringing.

It’s a narrow stairwell, and they pass not one landing but two before Mulciber stops at a door to their left. He gives Regulus a smirk, holding it open so Regulus has to move around him in the tight space.

“Aren’t you going to say thank you?” Mulciber says, blocking him from going into the potions room with his arm.

“Thank you,” Regulus grits out, not risking provoking him when they’re going to be spending the next two hours in close proximity. Alone.

Not that Mulciber would hurt him, but he’s always liked his fun.

“That’s a good boy,” Mulciber gives him a pat on the cheek making Regulus feel sick all over again before finally letting him pass.

It’s a lovely workspace all things considered. Nothing like the one at Potter Manor, then again nobody else has Fleamont’s eccentric personality.

Every item in the cabinets are meticulously collected and stored, all designed to hurt and wound and maime. Crafted to leave behind something unrecognizable and bloody in it’s path. Sighing, he sets up a spare cauldron and begins to work.

“You could just give me your blood and leave you know,” Regulus drawls an hour later. The potion is coming along well. He’d even be proud of it if he could forget what it was for.

“Oh, but what would the fun in that be?” Mulciber grins back. He’s been mostly bearable, only looking over Regulus’ shoulder or playing with some of the safer ingredients, asking Regulus what certain things do. 

“What’s this one?” he holds up a container of dead Sanguis beatles.

“Blood Beatles,” Regulus tells him. “Deadly poisonous. Turns blood vessels to liquid. The victims bleed out inside their body.”

“Is there a cure?”

“No,” Regulus grits.

He puts the glass down and raises his hand in surrender, “I was just asking,”

There’s a brief moment of silence before he’s talking again. “Potions is a slow business isn’t it.”

“It’s methodical,” Regulus defends it despite his better judgement screaming at him to just shut up. 

“Methodical,” Mulciber says in distaste. “That’s a funny way of saying boring.”

Regulus bites his tongue until it’s time for the final ingredient, three drops of Mulciber’s blood. Not that he is aware of that particular fact.

“Right,” Regulus grabs a clean ingredient knife and a small jar, probably only big enough to hold a tablespoon.

Mulciber looks at him, then at the jar and scoffs. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Is the knife not fancy enough for you?”

“Into the cauldron directly or no deal.”

“Sorry,” Regulus hands the knife handle forward to him. “One drop too many and that perfect face won’t be so perfect anymore.”

He can tell Mulciber doesn’t like it, but he rolls down his sleeve, dark mark glaring cruelty at Regulus as he cuts a small line down his arm and lets it drip into the jar. “How many drops did you say?”

“Not many,” Regulus shrugs.

When Mulciber turns to grab his wand and close the wound, Regulus carefully measures two drops of his blood into the potion. It won’t be enough to save Snape’s mind, but it also won’t leave him a blank canvas. There will be fragments, after images, maybe even dreams. It would certainly be less painful to add the third drop, let Snape start over completely. But Regulus is willing to bet Snape would thank him for this though, giving him something to grasp onto.

“Let’s go,” Regulus calls over his shoulder, pouring the potion into a vial and pocketing the leftovers of Mulciber’s blood.

“Fucking finally,” Mulciber mutters, heading out after Regulus and closing the door behind him.

Severus doesn’t fight as much as he expected. It takes a second for his brain to catch up as to why. Someone has imperio’d him. Regulus watches his slack jaw open as he pours the potion in, blood dripping down his nose mixing with it. His eyes stare up, disturbingly vacant. But Regulus knows he’s in there somewhere Watching his life slip away. Gagging at the taste. He wonders what memory Snape is clinging to, which one he’s the most desperate not to forget.

Snape falls listlessly back down when Regulus lets go. His mind so addled by the spell he can’t even tell if it’s taking effect. He just stays, staring out into nothing. A body waiting for orders.

Regulus is allowed to leave soon after.

He doesn’t ask what they’re going to do with Snape. He doesn’t even apparate home. He just walks.

And walks

And walks.

Leaves the city.

The path turning from concrete to gravel to dust.

Snape’s face ricochets around in his head, blurring with Colin’s and Barty’s. Slowly morphing into Voldemort’s smile as he told Regulus about the spy. It goes back, and back, and back, until it shapes into Oliver.

Oliver, who gave him half his orange before every Charms class.

Oliver who snuck Regulus into the Ravenclaw dormitories when things got overwhelming. Oliver who rolled him his first muggle joint there.

Oliver who Regulus killed.

Who’s soul twisted into the mark on his forearm, burning with every beckoned call. 

His first ghost.

The one he carries, always.

When he comes back to his body, he’s in the woods. It’s pitch black, and it takes a moment to comprehend the fact that he’s fallen. His hands scraped raw and chin aching from where it made contact with the dirt. He rolls over, staring up at the dark sky through the trees and tries to breathe. He searches the forest floor for his wand, and when he finds it his first thought is to go to James. It’s not a new feeling, but it aches worse than his injuries. He doesn’t think he could apparate without splinching himself right now, so he just rolls back over and takes it. Lets it burn.

Deliriously, he remembers what he used to do before James.

It feels like deja vu. Going into the woods, lying down and staring at the sky like it wasn’t a fucking death wish just to be there.

At least there’s no werewolves here.

The reminder snaps him out of it and he sits up with a sharp gasp.

Lupin had been there.

Lupin had been there with Greyback’s pack.

Then it’s raging in him, a tide lurching upwards.

That fucking idiot.

Part II, James

He and Sirius decide to camp out at Regulus’ for the night, so they waited for Remus to get home from some mission, and head over. Except Regulus isn’t there. Luckily, James is his secret keeper. He’s also trying very hard not to think about where Regulus is right now. Not with Sirius and Remus sitting across from him, an open bottle of fire whisky between them. They’re four rounds into a game of poker.

Remus is winning, obviously.

“It’s your bloody turn Padfoot,” Remus reminds him.

“Fuck, right,” he studies his cards. Frowning as he shuffles a few in order.

Remus laughs, “Pads you’re supposed to keep a poker face.”

“A what?” Sirius looks up with an ever deeper crease between his brows. “I thought we were playing poker?”

“No, like…” Remus trails off gesturing at the table in front of them. “You’re not supposed to give your hand away.”

“How can I give my hand away with my face?”

“Actually I’d like to know that too,” James teases. “I’ve heard his hands are quite excellent all on their own.”

Remus blushes furiously, throwing his cards right at James, “oh, fuck off.”

“Yes sir,” James teases further, dodging the flying cards and Remus’ grab for his shirt easily.

“Oi, I’m your fucking boyfriend shouldn’t you be trying to grab my shirt?” Sirius pouts, but there’s a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

“I am done with you two,” Remus rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling despite it.

“But Remus, what would Sirius use his hands for if not for you?”

“You’re drunk,” Remus decides, sliding the bottle away from James.

“No I’m not, I’ve barely had any,” James whines. “C’mon, one more shot.”

“Nah, I’m out anyways,” Sirius concedes, throwing his cards down.

Remus blinks, looking at the cards then up to Sirius.

“Pads, that’s a full house.”

“Full house?” 

“You—“ Remus starts, exasperated, when the front door bangs open.

The three of them are up in an instant, wands in hand. But James drops his when he catches sight of a wild eyed, mud covered Regulus Black in the doorway.

“Reg—“ he takes a step towards him, but Regulus looks right past him, focusing in on Remus.

He’s across the room in an instant, pushing Remus backward.

“Whoa, Regulus!” Sirius shouts, leaping towards him. He even manages to make it a few steps forward before Regulus is throwing him backwards with a flick of his wand. Sirius crashes into the coffee table, the loud shattering of their mugs throws James back into his body. But not fast enough to stop it in time.

“What the fuck were you doing at that meeting,” Regulus hisses, successfully pinning Remus to the wall, want pressing into the soft skin of his throat. 

“I can explain,” Remus says slowly, like he’s calming something inhuman. Like Regulus is a wild dog cornered and baring its teeth.

“You better.”

“I’m not doing it on Dumbledore’s orders. I didn’t infiltrate for him, I promise Regulus.”

That seems to make Regulus hesitate, his wand not digging in as deep.

“Why the fuck were you there.”

Remus glances over to Sirius, who’s eyes are pleading…something. His expression falls when Remus starts to talk. “Six months ago, Cassie Organ and her family were killed.”

“I know,” Regulus wavers, the change of subject catching him off guard. “She was six, found mauled on the scene, parents bodies missing.”

“Except that wasn’t—her body wasn’t found on site. It was a lie. She was bitten. They were covering it up.” Remus says it in a rush. “They were going to…” Remus’ face looks sick. “They were going to Avada her.”

“Why.”

“Because they knew Greyback would come back for her. They thought they could get him, and then…well, she wouldn’t be every useful after that would she.”

“What does this have to do with you being at a fucking death eater meeting.”

“What?” Sirius interrupts, James glances over again to see a mix of shock and hurt on his face, narrowed in on Remus. “You said it would never get this far. You fucking promised.”

“Well I was wrong,” Remus snaps back, unable to move with Regulus’ wand still at his throat.

James is really fucking regretting drinking, his mind spinning around what’s happened. “Just,” he starts. “Everyone calm down, alright?” He tries to keep his voice level.

“What was the fucking plan,” Regulus spits, ignoring James entirely.

“I got Cassie out of Britain,” Remus says. “She was being transported, and I intercepted the portkey.”

“We intercepted the portkey,” Sirius corrects. “And we got her out of Britain.”

“I’m sorry, what?” James is almost at a loss for words, struggling to wrap his head around it. “You did what?”

“The two Order Members had a little run in with an obliviation, and went home that night thinking Greyback got what he wanted,” Sirius shrugs, “and she got reunited with her parents. Her mum is also a werwolf, so they know how to keep her safe. Greyback tried to persuade her to join him, she said no. Hence, he went after her kid.”

Remus clears his throat, “I think they get it.”

“What does this have to do with you being involved with his fucking pack,” Regulus asks again, patience clearly running out. “Voldemort was looking for a spy tonight. I thought—you could have been caught.”

“Greyback approached me a few weeks ago. I figured, if he’s going to go after innocent kids, and the Order isn’t going to do shit to protect them…Regulus I couldn’t just let it happen.”

Somewhat satisfied, Regulus lowers his wand, taking a few steps back until Remus is able to brush the mud off his sweater from Regulus’ hands.

“So, what? What have you been fucking doing.”

“Cassie Organ’s mum isn’t just any werewolf, she’s the leaders of a group called Lichen, and they’ve been doing what I did for them ever since the start of this war. It’s why her father had an escape route, but Cassie got separated.” Remus’ tone grows more insistent with every word. “They get werewolves out of Britain that are just getting caught in the crossfire. Because of Cassie, I earned their trust. I’m one of the only werewolf who’s been taught any magic, I’m the only one connected to any official organization or resources within Wizarding Society. They needed me, and I had an opportunity to figure out who Greyback—and all the other Werewolves on You Know Who’s side are targeting.”

“And what’s going to happen when we go on the fucking run?” Regulus argues back. “When suddenly, they’re left in the dark having done all this. If someone starts to suspect—“

“It won’t happen because I’m still going to be helping them.”

“Oh, that’s just great,” Regulus laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Do you understand how insane that is? We’re going to be the most wanted people in Britain once Voldemort figures out what we’re doing, and now you want us to be trafficking people outside of the law too?”

“Well if we’re going to be committing crimes we might as well commit them all at once,” Remus says dryly.

“God,” Regulus rubs his hands down his face, and James notices just how badly they’re shaking. “I fucking hate you.”

“Well, you better get used to me because pretty soon we’ll be sharing a fucking tent.”

“Fuck,” Regulus swears, “we’re going to be sharing a tent.”

“I don’t snore, if that helps.”

“Get out of my house,” Regulus scrubs his face.

“Sure thing boss,” Remus gives him a cheeky wink before moving to clean up the furniture.

“I’ll deal with it, just go.”

“Reg—“ Sirius protests, a look of concern on his face.

“I said get out of my house.”

Sirius shoots a look at James who tries to communicate some ease back. It must work because Sirius pats James on the shoulder, then leaves with Remus out the front door, only stopping to pull his shoes and coat on.

The door slams shut behind them, and Regulus doesn’t move. Doesn’t turn. Doesn’t give any sign he knows James is still here.

So, James fixes the table. And the mugs. Puts them in the kitchen to wash later.

Then he sits on the couch.

Sooner than he expected, Regulus is sitting down beside him, elbows on his knees and looking so fucking defeated. It doesn’t show on his face, but hardly anything does. It’s in the slope of his shoulders, the hanging of his neck. His white knuckled hands closed in on themselves so tight James is worried they’ll draw blood.

“If Remus had been caught it all would have been over,” Regulus confesses, breaking the steady silence they’ve built. “All these years would have been for nothing.”

“But he didn’t,” James reasons, “and they aren’t.”

Regulus shifts, throwing some of his body weight onto James. Just his shoulder leaning onto James’ shoulder. But he doesn’t dare move, letting Regulus have this in whatever way he needs.

“Something happened tonight,” he says next, all broken glass and delicacies coming unwoven. “I thought he’d been caught, or that I’d been caught, but—“ he cuts off looking up to the ceiling, the fan spinning in slow circles. “It was Snape.”

“Snape?” James tries not to sound too jarred by the news, but it’s not something he’d ever expected to hear.

“Keep an eye out for him,” Regulus says gravely. “I’m not sure if he’ll turn up, but—“

“Did they kill him?” Something about it doesn’t sit right with James. Snape is an asshole and a death eater, but there’s something intimate about their dislike for each other. Something childish, and almost-safe feeling. It was back before either of them knew blood.

“No, no I—“ Regulus jerks away, hand covering his mouth, a sudden wave of panic in his eyes. Regulus stands abruptly, rushing into the bathroom with James close behind him as the sound of retching fills the room.

“Hey, love,” James gets on the floor, kneeling so his face is level with Regulus’ as his dry-heaving turns into sobs, “what can I do? What do you need?”

“Don’t make me talk about it, please, please don’t make me—“

“Okay, done. I won’t, I promise. What else.”

He’s gotten good at this by now. Helping Regulus when it gets too big. He didn’t used to be, but now he’s better at putting it all to the side, asking for orders and following them.

“Just—give me a minute. Outside.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, ready to stand and move away as quietly as he can when Regulus grabs his hand.

“Don’t—“ Regulus cuts himself off, James watches him struggle for words. “Don’t leave. The house. Please.”

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” he assures Regulus, trying to put all the love he has into the hand Regulus allowed him to hold, kneading into the flesh for a moment before letting go and leaving Regulus to gather himself in peace.

Part III, Remus

Sirius and Remus don’t speak when they get home.

Remus takes off his shoes, Sirius puts his coat on a hanger and places it in the cupboard.

Then they just stand there.

It feels like electricity crackling. Remus can only explain it as the silence of a forest before the storm heaves through.

Like the Gods are holding their breath.

“You told me it wouldn’t go this far.”

“Sirius—“

“Shut up,” he cuts, hand shaking where it hovers in a stop motion. “You told me that it wouldn’t get this bad. That you were helping them in—in safe ways. And now…what the fuck have you gotten yourself into. Greyback? Really Remus?”

“I’m helping those people Sirius. Every day, those people take their lives back because of me.”

“You’re breaking the fucking law, I’m an Auror, I should be arresting you right now for human smuggling.”

“Livestock!” Remus shouts back. “Under Wizarding Law, I am smuggling fucking livestock. Do you even…” Remus trails off, his voice trembling with rage. His whole body is wracked with it. “Those kids. Greyback’s kids. The Ministry considers them fucking animals.”

“You’re going to get caught, and I can’t help you if you do. I can’t—“ Sirius’ face crumples, somewhere between hurt and rage. “Has it ever fucking occurred to you how badly this could blow up in your face? In my brother’s face?”

“I told you, I’ll keep his name out of it.”

“Right, because that’s going to be so fucking simple while you’re on the run with him. Which you hadn’t fucking told me about either. Where the fuck are you even going, Remus. You have absolutely no idea what you’re doing, and you refuse to listen to fucking reason.”

“Is that what this is about? Me going on the run? How fucking pathetic, you know you were the one who wanted to get involved in this war, you’re the one who signed up without asking me, knowing I can’t join the ministry. And now that I’ve found a purpose, you can’t stand it. What the fuck did you think I was going to do? Sit at home? Let it happen? What was your plan for me, Sirius.”

“I thought you would let me protect you,” Sirius shouts, voice raw. “Regulus protected you once, when I…when I messed up. I want to do the same.”

“Except all you did, all you’ve ever done is make sure I’ll be fucking helpless! You do worse than push me away, you keep me behind you. You made—“ his hand hits the table. A loud bang making Sirius flinch. He takes a breath, the silence in the room, between them, is horrible. It always has been. 

He speaks, quieter this time. “You don’t get a fucking say in what I do anymore. You gave that up.”

“Remus, what are you saying?

Remus’ words die in his throat, a wild-eyed look on Sirius’ face lurching to life because Remus knows what he was about to say.

“I’m saying,” he says deliberately, “maybe this isn’t the best thing for us right now. With everything going on.”

“What? Remus, no. That isn’t what I meant,” Sirius says frantically. He takes a step forward and Remus steps back.

“Ever since Hogwarts, you’ve done is what’s best for you. But when I do what’s best for me, you can’t handle it. I just—I need space right now.”

His hand is already on the doorknob when he says it.

“Wait—“ Sirius starts, but Remus is already closing the door behind him.

He doesn’t know where he’s going.

It’s not safe on the streets.

But right now he really doesn’t fucking care.

It’s only when he’s knocking on a deep red door that he realizes he’s walked the whole half hour to Lily’s place.

She opens the door with her wand in her right hand and a determined expression on her face.

“What were the words I said to you the night before graduation, right before we headed up to sleep.”

He has to think about it for a moment. But then, “Tomorrow everything changes, god knows I’m ready for it.”

She puts her wand down, “then you called me an idiot.”

“And? Was I right.”

She checks over his shoulder out into the dead street. “Only a little. What are you doing here?”

“I just—“ he cuts himself off. Lily stares at him expectantly. And he can’t do a thing about it. His eyes burn, and he can feel his body shaking.

He hasn’t kept a secret from Lily since he was twelve years old.

He didn’t even tell her it then either, she just knew.

“I had a fight with Sirius,” he says lamely. “I think—I think we broke up.”

“Oh, love,” she wraps him up in her arms. He has to crouch in order for her to reach, but it’s worth it.

Part IV, Regulus.

Regulus wakes up to an empty bed. The sun streams in through the windows overtop the blue silk drapes and light yellow walls.  It’s the kind of morning he loves most. The air feels light, and the only sound is the birds waking. That is until he hears the sound of water coming from the bathroom. James must have gone on a run, which means he’s been up for at least an hour before him.

When Regulus pads into the kitchen, there’s fresh coffee in the coffee pot, and breakfast with a stasis charm on the kitchen counter.

“Shit,” James murmurs when he walks in the kitchen to find Regulus in the dining room reading a book from the library sipping on a cup of coffee and both their plates set out. “I was going to surprise you.”

“I just want to eat with you,” Regulus shrugs as James sits next to him. “Thank you, for last night.”

James just grins, shoving almost a whole waffle in his mouth, causing Regulus to roll his eyes.

They’d had a quiet evening. No talk of war, or politics. Just gossip from work, and Regulus’ experiments. He’s working on a potion for Remus—for the full moons. He’s hoping to have it done by the time they leave, but he doubts he will. It’ll have to wait.

“What are you going to do? While I’m away I mean.” They can’t hide from it forever. Regulus checks the clock on the mantle. 7:15 am. They have an hour, maybe two, before Dorcas and Remus show up. More planning, experiments.

“Oh, work, home, you know. Moody’s still got me on desk duty, so unless the Order needs something from me, that’s where I’ll be.” There’s a touch of disappointment in his voice, and Regulus wonders if this is a bruise he’s meant to press on.

“Do you want to be in the field?”

James looks a bit startled, “I do, yeah. I don’t like not being there. Marlene’s got this case, and she’s going undercover for it. I was meant to go with her. We do well together on jobs like that. Now Sirius is going, and it’s just—it’s meant to be me. If something does happen, it will have been meant for me. Not him. I don’t understand why they’ve let him back, but not me.”

“He got cleared for duty?”

“They deemed him fit, whatever that means, yeah.”

“But not you?.”

James gets quiet then, which is suspicious. “James, why haven’t they cleared you?”

“It’s that bloody counsellor they want me to see,” he confesses. “Sirius went to a couple sessions, and I refused. I didn’t think they’d bench me for it.”

“They want you to see a counsellor?” Regulus asks, the comment blindsiding him enough that he puts his cutlery down to focus. 

James scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t think it’s necessary. What happened was—“ he cuts himself off. Regulus waits. “It was personal. I don’t want anyone sticking their nose in it.”

“I see,” Regulus says calmly. He’s not very…good at this. Knowing what James needs. “But Sirius went?”

“Yes,” James says a bit too quickly. “Look, it doesn’t matter. There’s more important things to talk about.”

“I think this is pretty important, seeing as you didn’t say anything about it.”

James winces, “I didn’t want to worry you, you’re already—.”

“I don’t care,” Regulus insists, “this is important. I think you should go to the counsellor. Being in the field is something you’re good at James. You’re miserable at your desk.”

James shifts in his seat, fidgeting with his fork. Regulus shifts his chair sideways, pulling James so he has to look at him.

“James, you…I’ve noticed you don’t talk about him. About Peter.” James flinches slightly as Regulus says his name. “You haven’t since the morning after he got arrested. Not with me, and not with Sirius, or Remus. I…I think you should. Talk to the counsellor I mean.”

James works his jaw, eyes trained on his plate in front of him. “I talked with Mary.”

Regulus squeezes his hand, “did it help?”

James shakes his head, “I don’t think anything will.” He almost whispers it.

“Can you explain?”

“In my head…” James trails off, Regulus waits. “I know what he did was…was horrible. But—“

And oh, Regulus gets it now. Of course.

“James,” he says sternly. “There is nothing wrong with loving Peter. You’ve known him through everything.”

“I haven’t even been to see his mom,” James confesses. “His sister. I—our moms grew up together, you know?”

“I know,” Regulus smiles softly, “Effie showed me the photo albums at Christmas my first year.”

“She’s spent every night at their house. My dad too. And I haven’t…and I don’t even know why?” He looks at Regulus with such a raw expression that he feels l his heart clench at the sight. He used to hate it, how James can never hide how he feels. Now it just scares him.

“You are doing your best,” Regulus murmurs, “but James—I need you to see this counsellor. I’m going to be gone, I can’t—I won’t be able to if you’re not…” looked after, he doesn’t say, because James would hate that. But it’s true either way.

“Okay,” James agrees. “I’ll owl Moody after we eat.”

Regulus breathes a quiet sigh of relief, resting his forehead against James’ for a moment.

“Since when did you get so good at taking care of me,” James pulls back, giving Regulus these puppy dog eyes.

It’s a fair enough question, and Regulus senses some curiosity behind it. He’s not exactly known for being…good at this stuff. But he’s leaving—possibly dying, definitely going into some rocky waters, and James? He needs James to be right here when he gets back.

“Since you’ve been so shit at it,” he jokes instead.

“Oi, I know how to take care of myself,” James chuckles, reaching a hand out to steal a piece of potato off Regulus’ plate. “Food, water, three walks a day, all that. I’m very responsible.” 

“You sure are something,” Regulus mutters, but he’s smiling. Nobody else makes him smile quite as much.

Part V, Remus

Remus wakes up to a knock at the door. For a moment he’s disoriented. His neck has a crick in it, the soreness of spending the night on a couch. Light green walls, white carpets against dark floors, and soft light filtering in through a bay window. The blanket wrapped around him is an inch too short, but it’s a soft knitted throw he knows as Lilys.

Right.

He hears footsteps down the hall, and sits up. Lily’s house is nice. All light furniture and walls. Birch bookcases with all her favourite novels and textbooks. Things feel softer here, less real. They always have, even in her dorm room when Remus used to sneak up with the girls for one of Marlene’s hand-rolled cigarettes. Remus had his own of course, but Marlene was always so proud of them, he had to indulge her.

Within moments of the sound of a door opening there’s shouting. Remus is up in an instant, adrenaline pumping and wand already drawn as he runs to the door.

“—I just want to know if he’s safe!” Is the first thing he hears when he comes closer. And he knows that voice.

“And I’m saying you should piss off, it’s six o’clock in the morning!”

“Lil’s, it’s fine.” Remus touches her shoulder lightly, staring down at Sirius Black in the doorway. He looks like he hasn’t slept, all dark bags and sunken cheeks. The slight drizzle makes his hair frizz, and it’s a shame that even like this he’s the most attractive person Remus has ever laid eyes on.

“You didn’t come home,” his voice cracks on the words. “I was so—“ his face scrunches in a way that tells Remus he’s trying not to cry.

“Give us a minute?” Remus asks Lily. She nods, and Remus steps outside, closing the door behind him.

“I had no idea where you were,” Sirius continues. “I waited up, I thought you were hurt.”

He’s shaking from the cold and Remus sighs, “come here.” He opens his arms and Sirius comes forward into them, arms wrapping tight around Sirius’ waist.

“We’ll talk properly, I promise. Just let me say goodbye to Lily.”

“Okay,” Sirius says, gripping him tighter for a moment.

“I’ll meet you back home, I promise.”

Lily’s waiting for him in the kitchen.

“He seemed pretty upset,” she bites her lip. “Are you sure this isn’t something you think you can come back from?”

Remus shakes his head.

God.

He’s going to miss her so much.

He didn’t think about it like this. How he’s going to be gone, all his comforts—as simple as they are. He’s never dared to forget how lucky he is. To have found people, being a werewolf.

“I don’t think—“ he stops when his voice shakes.

He can’t lose it.

Not when he’s going away like this, without warning. She’ll worry. She’ll look for him. Maybe she will anyways, but he can’t let her think there’s something wrong. Even if everything is.

“We’re going to talk when I get home,” he tries to smile but it turns out a little watery. “Thank you for letting me stay here. I—you’ve always let me stay when I need to.”

“Ah,” she brushes him off. “We’re the same, you and me,” Lily grins, a bit brighter than he thinks necessary. “Unfortunately that means I know this is a bit bigger than just Sirius, isn’t it.”

Remus can’t meet her eye. “Yeah, maybe.”

Lily nods, face breaking from her calm mask for just a second, but then it’s gone and she just shrugs, “if you need a place to crash…”

“Yeah, I will.”

They stand in awkward silence for a moment before she rolls her eyes, opening her arms for a hug. He doesn’t waste a second of it. Curling her close. She’s steady, but it might just be a show. “You’re a good hugger,” he says muffled into her shoulder. “I don’t tell you that enough.”

“You fucking dumbass,” she pulls away, hand flickering to his cheek for a moment. “Apparate home, don’t walk.”

“If you insist,” he agrees.

Part VI, Sirius

Sirius’ hands are still freezing when Remus walks in. The kettle whistles; neither of them move to grab it.

When it seems like Remus really is going to wait him out, Sirius rubs his face, voice hollow to his own ears.“If I’d gone out in the middle of a fight like that and hadn’t told you where I’d gone, how would you feel.”

“I’d be fucking terrified,” Remus admits.

“And you did it anyways,” he clenches his hands, unclenches them. “We have to…figure this out.”

“This isn’t about you,” Remus bites, his brows pinched with anger. “You won’t arrest me, it’s not even your jurisdiction.”

“My jurisdiction,” Sirius laughs, “I’m not talking about work Moony, I’m talking about us.” He hates how his voice shakes. Like he’s something fragile. “Were you even going to say anything? Or was I just going to wake up to an empty bed.”

The kettle is still screeching, and Remus storms into the kitchen, taking it off the stovetop, snatching his hand back and swearing as he touches the hot surface by accident. He rushes to turn on the tap, running his hand under the water.

Without the kettle boiling the apartment is filled with the silence of their fight.

The water runs. Neither of them look at each other. 

Do I even mean anything to you? Sirius wants to ask. He wants it so badly it aches.

“I don’t even know when I’m leaving.”

“Right, but when you do, you expect me to just stay behind?”

“Sirius—“

“If it wasn’t dangerous, you’d tell me. Which means this is bad, really bad. You are—“ he controls his tone. “Remus, you are the love of my life. I cannot sit back and watch.”

“That is exactly what I’m asking you to do.” Remus finally looks up from the sink. “And I…I really need you to let me do this.”

“And if I say no?”

Remus swallows thickly, “I’ll go anyways.”

“Well then,” Sirius laughs bitterly. “Doesn’t really matter what I say then, does it.”

He can’t stay in the house. So, he goes to the only other person he can shout about this to. Unfortunately, it also is the place he knows his brother will be.

Regulus answers the door right as he raises his hand to knock. 

“What are you doing here?” Regulus hisses. 

“I need to talk to you.” Sirius demands. Regulus’ face is stone, but his knuckles are white where his hand grips the doorknob.

“You can’t just show up, this is a safe house,” even as he says it he’s letting Sirius in. “Look, if this is about—“

“Yeah, it is. How could you just—just take him.”

Regulus just keeps fucking staring at him. He doesn’t flinch. “Remus chose to sign up for this, Sirius. I didn’t do anything but give him information.”

“Right, and what information is that?”

“You know I can’t tell you.”

“See, that’s what I’m having trouble with,” Sirius says cooly, “because you just expect people to go along with whatever bullshit reasons you give them. Remus is my partner, and he’s making a stupid fucking decision. I mean, aren’t you at least a little mad he kept things from you?”

“The smuggling? No, I’m not. As long as it doesn’t interfere with our mission.”

“You have to take me with you.”

“No, Sirius—“

“Then just tell me what you’re doing. You have to give me something, I can’t just let him—let you—“ he cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair.

“We have to keep it secret. Trust me, you are first on my list that I would tell, but this isn’t something I can take any risks with, and I…I need you to trust me.”

“Fuck you, Reg.” There’s less heat to it, but Regulus still looks down.

“As long as my cover is intact, we won’t be in any danger. We’re going to stay low, and we’re going to stay quiet.” When he looks back up, his mask finally cracks, sincerity slipping in. “I’ll look after him, Sirius. I promise he’ll come home to you.” 

Sirius takes a deep breath, then another. “I don’t like not knowing what's going on. I don’t like you guys going into danger.”

“You throw yourself in the line of fire all the time. It’s a war, Sirius. That’s just what happens.” 

“I do it because I’m an Auror, this is a job I chose.” Sirius shifts his weight, “you have the chance to get out of this now that the spy is caught. You could go. I can do whatever it is you need done, and—“

“I’m not leaving until it’s over. I would have when…when all this started, but it’s different now.”

“Then tell me,” Sirius pleads, anger flaring in his chest. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.” 

Regulus presses his mouth into a thin line. “I don’t need you to help me, I need you to trust me.” 

Sirius takes a deep breath, rubbing his hand over his face in frustration. “I’m not okay with this.” 

“I know, but you’re going to have to deal with it.” 

Sirius scoffs, their whole lives have been exactly that, haven’t they?

Shut up and take it.

Shut up and take it. 

Shut up and take it.

Shut up and take it. 

Shut up and take it. 

He’s so damn tired of taking it.

So he walks away; leaves Regulus standing on the porch alone. 

And he doesn’t look back.