Arrival
1 year later
Massachusetts is a green blur outside the window of Sirius Black’s car.
Regulus is driving with his newly minted license, a necessity apparently outside the bustling New York streets he’d been so accustomed to. His parents had hired a driver to take him where he needed to go ages ago. His name was Marcus and he was a burly Italian man in his late 50’s.
Marcus was gruff and no-nonsense. He never tried to make idle chit chat with Regulus or asked him stupid questions they both knew he didn’t care to answer. They met when Regulus was 10 and he switched skating coaches. His mother couldn’t drive him to the new rehearsal time, she had a standing work obligation and, more importantly, Regulus suspected she just didn’t want to.
Regulus met Marcus on a windy Tuesday. He shook his hand once, firmly, and said, “a pleasure Mr. Black.” And that was that. Most days he saw Marcus more than he saw his parents. After Sirius moved out, Marcus was sort of his best friend. The last time Regulus saw him, he was all anxiety. He got out of the car and beelined it up to the Black family penthouse without so much as a goodbye. He regrets that now. He’s not sure what he would have said if he knew how things would turn out but he’d like to say something.
But Marcus was on Orion’s payroll and so he was ancient history. This, like most things, Regulus learned how to be okay with. Change was a good thing. That was one of Dr. Lewis’s great philosophies. Sometimes things have to fall apart so better things can fall together. So he’d lost Marcus. He could drive himself now. So he’d lost his parents. Now he had Sirius again.
Sirius, 20 years old now. An adult, Regulus had thought with a small amount of wonder when he’d turned up at the rehabilitation center a few months back. Sirius was an adult now. In Regulus’s mind, he’d always been 14, angry, walking out the front door and never looking back. When he shows back up again, he’s looking at Regulus, only at Regulus, and there’s such plain regret in his eyes that Regulus almost wishes he’d turn around and walk away again.
Dr. Lewis has a lot of ridiculous philosophies, but some are true. Recovery is hard.
The past year was hard. He’s been assured, gently, not that he appreciated it, that the next one would be too. And probably the one after that as well. But some things make it easier to bear. He has a future now. A plan B that he’d never bothered to come up with because it had only ever been plan A. Plan B was good though. Plan B didn’t require a diet or rigorous training. Plan B didn’t have a strict no distractions rule drilled into him by a 4’11” Russian woman. Plan B didn’t include his parents and that absolutely had to be a good thing.
So far, Plan B consisted of an acceptance letter to Hogwarts University that he still couldn’t believe he’d managed to swing and Sirius. Sirius who, in a show of goodwill, had offered to let Regulus drive them to school.
It was a testament to his brother’s undying love that he was letting Regulus anywhere near his mustang. Well it was a gesture in any case. A poorly thought out one judging by Sirius’s white knuckled grip on the edge of his leather seat.
“You know the speed limits aren’t really a suggestion,” he breathed out through tightly clenched teeth.
“Relax,” Regulus yawned, flicking his sunglasses up onto his head so Sirius could witness the full weight of his unimpressed stare. “We’re nearly there anyway.”
Quietly, Regulus mused that Sirius was a total hypocrite. For all their many many differences, the Black brothers had a couple things in common. An inability to abide by traffic laws was one of them. The other- the ice of course.
Regulus had always thought he was born to skate. His lean body formed the sharp lines that coaches dreamed of and no one was willing to work themselves to the bone like he was. For all olympians, their sports were their entire lives. For Regulus, it was somehow more. He skated like it was life or death. For a while, it pretty much was.
Regulus needed to work alone, he never had the patience for pairs. Sirius flourished in a team setting, so he chose hockey. He loved the physicality of it, the freedom he had to release everything. It earned him a scholarship to a boarding school in high school and then a free ride in college. Sirius was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He was on the first train he could get out of New York.
“I can’t wait for you to meet the team,” Sirius crowed and instantly Regulus’s eyes were rolling to the back of his head.
The team.
If Regulus never heard another word about the Hogwarts University men’s hockey team it would be too soon. Ever since Regulus mentioned applying to Hogwarts, Sirius had been bombarding him with story after story about the his three best friends. The bond they had, the brotherhood. Nevermind the fact that Sirius already had a brother.
“Oh yes,” Regulus drawled sarcastically. “That’ll be the highlight of my day. I’ll just clear my schedule.”
Sirius sighed with put upon exasperation.
“I swear you’ll like them. I feel like you know them already-“ Regulus did too. And he wasn’t exactly a fan.
“Today’s not gonna work,” he said flippantly.
The truth was no day was going to work. If Regulus could manage it, he’d never meet Sirius’s idiot teammates. God knows he’d heard enough about them for a lifetime.
Sirius leveled him with a flat look and Regulus fought off a smirk.
“You can make time for lunch. It’s important to get out there. College is about the people, you know,” Sirius began.
Regulus laughed, a sharp sudden sound that still managed to shock Sirius even after all these months.
“Oh sorry, I assumed I was paying for a degree. You know, to get a job. If that’s not the case-“ Sirius groaned. Loudly.
“God you’re so boring. Fine. You’re off the hook today but you will be meeting them soon enough. Mark my words!” he shook a long painted fingernail in Regulus’s face as he attempted to bat it away.
Regulus knew Sirius meant well. But he hardly needed his brother’s help making friends. So he was a bit prickly; lots of people liked that sort of thing.
“God, whatever, we’re here okay? Try to help me unload my shit without waxing poetic about your boyfriends for ten minutes,” Regulus said.
Sirius sniffed primly, “I know you mean that as an insult, but I happen to be very open-minded about-“
“Enough!” Regulus groaned.
Slytherin Hall was fucking freezing. For someone who spent the majority of their life in an ice rink, that was saying something.
Sirius had dropped him off and peeled out in about 10 minutes flat.
“Sorry Reg,” he said with a toss of his hair, “But this building gives me the heebie jeebies. Are you sure you don’t want to transfer over to Gryffindor? That’s where me and the guys stayed freshman year. It’s not so…”
Sirius took a long look around. Slytherin Hall was nestled into the northernmost edge of campus and surrounded on 3 sides by dense trees. As a result, all the light filtering in through the windows was tinged with an eerie verdant glow. It was the oldest dormitory on campus and had once been the grandest. Now, it held the air of a long ago abandoned manor house. Regulus loved it instantly.
“Creepy.” Sirius finished with a definitive nod.
Regulus scoffed, “it has character.”
“Yeah, sure, maybe if that character’s name was Nosferatu,” Sirius mumbled.
He’d left a minute later after reminding Regulus no less than five times that he could call him if he needed anything.
In his wake was silence. Blissful, long overdue silence. Regulus threw himself back on his bare twin bed, shut his eyes, and promptly passed out.
“Do you think he’s dead?”
“No way.”
“He’s been out for like three hours. He slept through Gideon coming by earlier. And Gideon’s fucking loud.”
“He’s not dead… I think.”
Regulus felt his brow furrow involuntarily. That would be the end of his nap then.
“I’m not dead,” he grumbled petulantly as he rose to sit up.
He was met with a muffled, “oh fuck, oh shit,” from a tall broad shouldered brunette who was in the process of stumbling backward, tripping over Regulus’s duffel bag and onto his back and a shockingly high pitched scream from the blonde guy next to him. Regulus raised a singular eyebrow, ever unimpressed.
“Who are you two and what are you doing in my room?”
The blonde recovered first as the other one attempted to extricate his legs from the strap of Regulus’s bag.
“Evan! And that’s Barty,” he said with a nod towards the ground. “We’re your suitemates.”
Evan had a kind sort of face and curling blonde hair that made Regulus think of round cheeked cherubs. He looked altogether too nice for his own good. Barty, still at war with the duffel bag, didn’t look half so angelic. He wore all black and had the sort of looks Regulus was tempted to call “roguish”. Neither of them were really a sight for sore eyes in any case. And Regulus had no clue what Evan was talking about but it all sounded a bit forward.
Regulus frowned, “My sweet mates? Are you British or something?”
Evan faltered, “Am I- what? No! We share a suite. Like a bathroom and stuff. We’re just through that door there.”
Evan motioned towards the door on the back wall of Regulus’s bathroom.
“That’s impossible. That’s a closet door. Or something, I don’t know. I requested a single.” Regulus felt a migraine coming on.
Evan’s eyes widened suddenly realizing he was going to have to be the one to deliver Regulus this particular blow.
“Right, yeah, so there aren’t actually singles in that sense! Like yeah, you’re the only person in this particular room. But everyone has to have suitemates. Totally misleading! I get the frustration, I mean, if I were you I’d be totally-”
The brunette- Barty, Regulus realized, having finally risen from the floor, cut Evan off with a tired wave of his hands, “He gets it Evan. Sorry- uh, what’s your name?”
Regulus let out a weary sigh for what he expected would not be the last time today and glanced at the clock. It was only two PM. He wished he’d slept through till dinner at least. He turned to face the two guys in front of him. His suitemates. Excellent.
“I’m Regulus,” he said.
“Regulus?” Barty said with an amused sort of smile, “odd name.”
“Your name’s Barty…” Regulus intoned with a flat look and Evan muffled a laugh.
“Fair enough,” Barty shrugged. “Wanna go to the Fresher’s Fair with us?”
Regulus blinked.
“You know, look at the clubs, scope out the hot people, get free shit,” Barty said.
The thing is, like all rich kids, Regulus did kind of love free shit. He shrugged, pushing up off the bed, “yeah, alright.”
“Did you go to Exeter by any chance?” Barty was asking him as they strolled onto the green.
Hogwarts University was one of the oldest campuses in New England, founded in 1620. Walking around, it felt a little bit like traveling back in time. The place was positively Gothic. Tall arches, stained glass windows, flying buttresses, the whole nine yards. Regulus glanced up and saw honest to god gargoyles perched on the edge of what he was pretty sure was the engineering building. It was a whole new world.
“No, no, I know, you went to Milton!” Barty went on.
He’d spent the last five minutes trying to work out where Regulus went to school. He wondered if it was too soon to tell his new suitemates that he’d actually been home schooled, not for any weird reason, mostly just because he was busy training for the Olympics. And also because his parents wanted to keep a particularly close eye on him after what happened with Sirius. But also it would probably be best if they never brought up the Olympics again. Just because. That just felt like a lot for day one though. So Regulus settled for shaking his head and shrugging with a noncommittal, “what can you do?” expression.
“No?” Barty asked, sounding genuinely a little bummed. “Shit, you just look so familiar. Does he not look familiar, Evan?”
Evan nodded, “he does. Maybe it’s the hair. I see a lot of guys with that kind of haircut.”
Regulus was unreasonably miffed. He wore his hair longer now, just enough to curl a bit more. It was cool. But then that’s what Sirius had told him and who knew how trustworthy he was with hair advice. He’d worn his own to his shoulders for as long as Regulus could remember.
“It’s called a flow,” Sirius had said when he was maybe 11. Regulus didn’t know what on earth that meant but understood it was somehow related to hockey so he didn’t bother trying to dissect it.
Eager to get the conversation off his haircut, which he would be rethinking more later, he gestured blandly to what looked like an endless sea of tents set up across the lawn, “where do we even start?”
Barty turned forward with a wicked grin and rubbed his hands together in a manner not very far off from a cartoon villain.
“Wherever the hot people are,” he announced and took off.
Evan shot him a commiserating glance, “just go with it.”
And so Regulus did.
Barty’s confidence, it turned out, was not entirely misplaced. Thirty minutes in, he’d already collected 12 phone numbers, 8 instagram handles, and an invite to a biochem study group from a particularly zealous sophomore. Barty was not actually studying biochem but neither of them seemed too fussed about that. And Regulus is fairly certain someone tried to proposition all three of them at once.
“No, he definitely was,” Barty said.
Evan whistled, “that’s ambitious. A foursome? Classes haven’t even started yet. Where do you even go from there?”
Barty threw him a sly grin and an easy wink, “only up baby.”
Regulus laughed despite himself and Evan glanced at him in amusement.
Regulus winced internally. He had his brother’s laugh. Which is to say, it was loud.
“Well, well, well!” a voice called out.
And Regulus winced externally this time. He’d summoned him. Regulus rolled his shoulders back and threw his chin up. Well this meeting was bound to happen eventually. He just had to cross his fingers and hope Sirius didn’t conjure a baby album on the spot for the sole purpose of embarrassing him as payback for the death defying ride into town. So Regulus liked going fast. Sue him.
Steeling himself, Regulus decided to just get the introductions out of the way, “Barty, Evan, this is-”
“Black!” Evan and Barty called out in unison.
“Rosier, Crouch, what the hell are you doing with my brother?” Sirius laughed, pulling them each into some sort of bro-half-hug thing.
“What.” Regulus said. Not a question, he just left it there.
“All that fuss about refusing to meet the team and who do you stroll up with but our new D men!” Sirius said, sounding not at all put out. And of course he wasn’t, Regulus thought, with no small amount of irritation.
“That’s why you looked so familiar!” Barty said, snapping his fingers rapidly as if he’d just cracked the case, “You’re a dead ringer for your brother.”
“The team.” Regulus said flatly. Everything was happening very fast.
“Yeah we’re both on the hockey team,” Evan said, nudging Barty. “Defense. God all Sirius talked about at training camp was how his brother was starting in the fall, I can’t believe I didn’t put it together faster.”
“The hockey team.” Regulus said and maybe he felt a little lightheaded.
Evan gave him a concerned look, “Yeah. You alright man?”
“I’m-” Regulus said, and his voice was too high and reedy and he was pretty sure he’d just broken into a nervous sweat because there was no way his suitemates who he wasn’t supposed to have in the first place were on the fucking hockey team. Jesus he might as well just move in with-
“What’s all the fuss about?” a clear voice called out, sounding cheery and easy and isn’t that just great? He even sounded charismatic. Regulus didn’t have to turn around to know that the voice belonged to James Potter. Because he was a glutton for punishment, he did anyway.
And promptly regretted it. Talk about adding insult to injury. Regulus had heard a lot about James Potter. Too much really, more than any individual should. He was Sirius’s best friend after all. His other brother. They’d met Sirius’s freshman year of high school when Sirius was just a skinny angry thing. It was instantaneous, the two of them. James’s family had been the ones to take him in that summer and every summer after. James was the reason he’d never seen his brother again.
They went to Hogwarts together because of course they did and only grew closer as the years went on. Sirius had told him hundreds of stories about James while Regulus was in rehab. He knew James’s favorite color was bottle green. He knew James was an only child. He knew James always gave their friend Peter the pickle on his sandwich even though he liked it. He knew James had a border collie at home named Pocket of all things. He knew James had had a mortifying crush on a girl named Lily their freshman year which had prompted him to take a French class in order to talk to her. He knew this massively backfired when the professeure announced they would only be speaking in French for the remainder of the course on day one.
Sirius had made a point of filling Regulus’s head with useless trivia surrounding his idiot friend. Enough useless trivia, in fact, to fill a very small, probably unsettling book. What he had failed to mention of course, was that James Potter was hot. Like obscenely, unfairly hot.
“James!” Sirius called out with the sort of reverence a child might address Santa Claus with. “Get over here and meet my brother!”
Dutifully, James, at least six feet tall, with warm glowing skin, and sporting the sort of messy hair that immediately makes you want to stick your hands in it, strutted forward.
Regulus, feeling what he could only call dread work its way up his spine, wondered if it might not be too late to transfer schools.