Chapter 31
The week passed quickly, Regulus was again swamped in his studies and spent all of his spare time on the Quidditch pitch, enchanting small rocks to fly around like the golden snitch. Sometimes Barty joined him for a few rounds, often bringing Evan Rosier to guard the goal hoop as Barty hurled Quaffles at the massive boy. Regulus liked Rosier, although he wasn't very bright; Regulus had more than once watched him torment the hell out of a first year, under the direction of a much crueler Mulciber or Yaxley. He had a feeling that under the wrong person’s thumb, Evan could be very dangerous--although he suspected that Evan wouldn't have a clue either way. Regulus couldn't quite remember, but he thought he had seen two adults that resembled Evan at Voldemort’s first speech that he attended back in December. It wouldn't surprise him that the Rosiers were involved with the rising Dark Wizard--he hoped they kept their son out of it for a little longer. Regulus hadn't heard more about Voldemort’s movement, or the pureblood-supremacy his mother and Bellatrix had so passionately extolled, nor had he received a single letter from home. Howgarts was a bubble, and he knew he wouldn't know anything about the world outside until he went home for Christmas in a few weeks, however he couldn't help but imagine that every passing whisper was about the Dark Lord, that the teachers crowded closely together in the hallway lingered their gaze a little longer on him as he walked past, whispering in hushed tones to each other. He knew that his world was shifting, bubbling under rising tensions and transforming into something deformed and hideous, and somewhere deep down he feared that his next few years at Hogwarts would be the last few peaceful ones for a while.
However, essays still piled up and friends laughed and a little enchanted rock still whizzed around the Quidditch pitch, so Regulus decided to put the dark wizards from his mind. Besides, whenever he thought about his family, Dumbledore’s words came rushing back to him:
There will be a war…which side are you on?
Which side was he on?
Some part of him knew the answer, and he very distinctly ignored it.
__________
Regulus became increasingly nervous as Friday approached, the night of the Gryffindor party. He had no reason to be, he knew, likely nobody would even know he was there. That didn't stop snakes from writhing in his stomach every time he envisioned walking through the portrait hole of the Gryffindor common room. He was distracted and snippy during his French lessons with James, who in a typical manner took his attitude in stride, never once mentioning the stormy look on Regulus’s face. Regulus wondered if James also got nervous before parties--probably not, the Gryffindor boy was an image of social grace. Besides, everyone wanted James there. Regulus could not say the same. Friday afternoon slid by, Regulus spending the day sitting among crunching brown leaves underneath an oak tree and not thinking about that night.
“I'm so excited!” squealed Pandora. “I’ve never been to a party at another house.”
It was finally nine. Regulus and Barty loitered in the common room as Pandora emerged from her dormitory, having taken nearly an hour to get dressed.
Regulus blinked at his friend, momentarily blinded by the neon of her outfit.
“You look…colorful,” he said with a grin. Pandora fluttered her eyelashes.
“Thank you!”
Pandora was wearing one of the strangest outfits Regulus had seen her wear, which was saying quite a bit. She had replaced her green Slytherin robes with pink ones, surely enchanted because they were so brilliant Regulus thought they glowed. Around her waist was a yellow sash, clashing horribly with the pink, and atop her head were two massive yellow flowers to match. Silver jewelry poured from her neck and wrists, and shocking pink eye shadow highlighted her already owl-like gray eyes. Regulus squinted, looking at his friend’s head.
“Are those…bees?”
“Yes!” Pandora said enthusiastically. “I enchanted them so they don't sting, so don't worry. I thought they added a lovely touch.”
“Lovely.” said Barty with a reassuring grin. Pandora turned to fix her flowing gown, and he gave Regulus a wide eyed look. Regulus shrugged.
“Shall we go?”
Barty grimaced and nodded. Regulus could tell by the tension in his narrow shoulders that he was every bit as apprehensive as Regulus was. Pandora, however, floated happily out of the dungeon gate, humming a lighthearted song beneath her breath.
The school was silent when they reached the Gryffindor common room, the dim corridor framing the firmly shut portrait door. The portrait featured a woman, rather heavy set, dressed in white billowy robes; she seemed to be sleeping. Regulus glanced at Barty, who raised his eyebrows. Perhaps this wasn't a good idea, his friend's eyes said silently. Regulus agreed. Maybe James had been joking, and had assumed Regulus understood…humiliation flashed through him. He felt stupid, standing in the corridor in front of a locked door, all dressed up.
“We should go--” Regulus began. Pandora gave him an appraising look and shook her head.
“Excuse me” she chirped to the woman in the portrait. The woman appeared to wake up, standing up with a snort and shaking out the mass of fabric swamping her.
“Who are you?” she said blearily, rubbing her eyes. “Slytherin robes? You must be first years--the Slytherin common room is way downstairs. Honestly, it's been nearly three months, I’m surprised you lot are lost!”
“We aren't first years.” Regulus said shortly, standing up a little taller. “Let's go back.”
Regulus turned away. He could feel Barty falling into step behind him.
“Come on, Pandora.”
“We’re here for the party,” Pandora said sweetly, ignoring him. The fat lady looked skeptical.
“Password? I can't let you in without the password.”
Pandora turned to Regulus expectantly.
“I don't have a password.” He said to her, his words clipped. Already he was several feet back down the corridor.
“Potter didn't even tell you how to get in?” Barty said disbelievingly. “I'm not sure if we were actually invited, mate.”
Barty’s unusually gentle tone sent another shock of embarrassment sweeping through Regulus. He didn't want his friend’s pity.
“I don't…I wasn't…” he stammered, hating himself for the burning in his cheeks and the way his words tripped over his tongue. “I don't have one.” Thinking hard of cold snow on icy ground, Regulus forced the heat from his face and looked passively at Pandora.
She looked disappointed, but not deterred. “Well, I’m sure James will come out any minute--”
“Nope.” said Regulus. “We’re going, he probably forgot.”
Of course he forgot, serves Regulus right for imagining that someone would actually want him there, would go out of their way to bring him. Memories of his mother’s snide voice, how his family wouldn't make him a spot to sit during Christmas dinner, how he was never seen as talented to the older Blacks, all clawed their way up from the depths of his mind, parched and angry. He shoved them back, schooling his face into sculpted ice. He wouldn't make this mistake again, he knew.
Pandora looked crestfallen, but reluctantly took a step back. The bees on her headdress buzzed pleasantly, unaware of the three young Slytherins loitering awkwardly outside of the Gryffindor common room, scuffling shoes and dragging robes marring the perfect silence of the night. Regulus guessed that someone had placed a muffling charm on the room, to keep the teachers from barging in and docking everyone points.
“I guess.” she said uncertainty, and Regulus began again to walk away, shaking his head and cursing himself for his naivete.
“There you are!”
Regulus stopped. He couldn't have mistaken that voice anywhere. Faintly, he heard Barty’s amused sigh.
“Come in, Reg!”
James Potter was leaning out of the portrait hole, wrapped in a Gryffindor scarf and holding a foaming mug. His hair was messy and falling in front of his face, his glasses crooked and his eyes sparkling as he looked at Regulus. For a moment, Regulus felt like if he could place that look on James’s face, he would be the greatest wizard alive. He hesitated.
“We--”
“You again!” the fat lady shrieked suddenly, waking again from her nap and glaring at James. “If you come rustling again through this door bothering me, you’ll be locked out for a month, I’m telling you!”
James smiled sheepishly and the fat lady tsked loudly.
“Peeking through every five minutes, who are you waiting to arrive, the Minister of Magic? Honestly.”
“Ok,” James said hurriedly. His cheeks looked slightly pink. “All of you welcome in, you haven't missed much yet--there’s loads of butterbeer, or soda, or chocolate if you want that.”
Regulus was still standing uncertainly a few feet from the door. Had the fat lady implied that James had been checking outside for him? He felt frozen, unable to step forward or back.
“Thank you for inviting us, James!” Pandora said loudly, grabbing Regulus by the arm and dragging him to the portrait hole.
“I love a good party so very much. I cannot wait to talk to some Gryffindor girls, heavens know the Slytherin girls have simply nasty tempers.”
Regulus was dragged along, ducking through the circle door and into the common room. Barty followed reluctantly, ignoring James’s smile and glowering at the fat lady as he passed.
I know this song. Was the first thing he thought. It was a David Bowie song Sirius was utterly obsessed with--Regulus figured he put it on himself. Regulus always felt uncomfortable when he heard it; Bowie sang about a Lady Stardust, and Regulus couldn't tell if they were a boy or a girl. Something inside him was drawn to the lyrics, and he wanted that part of him to disappear forever, so he never listened to it if he could help it.
Whatever. The common room was cozy and warm, a crackling fire on one wall and bookshelves lining the others. A window was thrown open, letting in gasps of chilly November air that dissipated some of the heat from tightly packed bodies filling the room. Plush poufs and cushy looking chairs were scattered in no apparent order around the room, some draped in red and gold lion banners, some with sprawling teenagers, limbs and hair and lazy rings of smoke. All around Regulus people laughed, yelled over the music, sang loudly with their arms thrown around their friends--he turned his head quickly, trying to grasp his surroundings but secretly reveling in the chaos of it all. This was nothing like the Slytherin dungeons.
He felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up. James was saying something to him.
“What?” he shouted. James grinned and leaned in, Regulus tried not to focus on the other boy’s warm breath in his ear.
“I said are you okay?”
Regulus looked over at James, who looked back with full earnesty.
“I’m bloody fantastic,” he shouted back. “Do you wanna get a drink?”
James nodded and they crossed the room, pushing through crowds of people. Sweat tinged the air and Regulus kept getting smacked by stray limbs and swaying arms. It was the most he had ever been touched at once, and he found he didn't mind it at all. Thankfully, Regulus ran into a few people he knew from classes, three or four Gryffindors, a Ravenclaw, and even a fourth-year Hufflepuff he recognized from Arithmancy. The Hufflepuff, Diggory, slapped Regulus on the back and told him how much he loved when Regulus corrected the professor last week in class. Regulus grinned back at him, feeling unusually friendly. He was pleased that even without James, he was still well liked. He couldn't shake the worry that James felt obligated to be nice to him, that he was just another good deed.
At one point, James grabbed his hand to wade through a thick mass of Gryffindors, and Regulus physically couldn't stop himself from smiling at the pressure of James’s hand in his, the calloused skin of his palm and a faint sheen of sweat dampening the space between their fingers. You're with me. James said silently with his gesture, and Regulus was surprised to feel sort of safe.
They made it through the crowd but James didn't drop his hand, Regulus knew that he had just forgotten, but kept his hand perfectly still anyways, trying to hold the moment in time as long as possible. Nothing else seemed to matter, in the roaring music and screaming crowd and thick plumes of colored smoke, but the skin touching his and the soft pulses of blood pumping beneath James’s palm, so close to Regulus himself.
You're ridiculous. He told himself, but for that one night he couldn't bring himself to care, couldn't bring himself to worry about why the touch of James Potter felt like the most important thing in the world.
“Your drink of choice?” James asked him. Regulus blinked, returning to the crowd and the drink table and his two, now empty, palms.
“Firewhiskey.” Regulus replied, reaching for the narrow amber bottle. James looked impressed as he poured a copious amount into a glass and added some bubbling water and lemon juice. Regulus smirked at him. “Did you want some too?”
“I’m more of a butterbeer lad myself”
“You haven't tried this yet…here, have a sip.” Regulus handed him the concoction, well perfected after months of sneaking to the kitchens with Barty and getting drunk out of their minds while the castle slept around them. James raised the glass to his lips, draining nearly half of it.
“I said sip!” Regulus cried, snatching the glass back. “This is a limited resource, you know.”
James licked his lips and grinned. “Quite a good one at that, I would like to request the bartender for another.” Regulus rolled his eyes but obliged, making two more drinks and finishing the rest of the first while he did it.
“You aren't quite the lightweight I thought you were” James observed, sipping from his firewhiskey and staring at Regulus over the glass. His hazel eyes caught the reddish hue of the drink and seemed to glow in the semi darkness, and Regulus couldn't breathe for a moment for how fully they were focused on him. He forced himself to give a smug smile.
“I don't think I’m anything you thought I was”
A soft smile that Regulus couldn't quite read played over James’s face.
“That's true,” he said softly. Regulus said nothing, just shivered slightly, and the two of them watched each other drink in contented silence, peace in the center of a whirlwind of sound.
“Let's dance,” James said suddenly. Regulus frowned at him. It felt like a century had passed of admiring the older boy in silence. “I only know how to waltz.”
James laughed until he realized Regulus wasn't joking.
“You don't have to learn to dance, you just do,” James said reassuringly, grabbing Regulus’s arm. “It’ll be fun”
It might have been the firewhiskey, or the feel of James’s palm on his arm, but Regulus found himself nodding and making his way to the middle of the room, where a few people had already gathered and were swaying, throwing their body around to the music. A few leaned against each other, a few danced alone, but they all shared an expression of peaceful bliss. As Regulus and James stepped into the open space, Regulus crashed head into another student.
“Sorry!” He shouted, stepping backwards and rubbing his mouth, which had chipped against the fellow’s shoulder. His heart sank as he looked into the other student’s face and found it painfully familiar. It was his own face; dark features, high cheekbones, pale gray eyes. Sirius.