La Pierre
“I’m just sittin’ on the dock of the bay
Watchin’ the tide roll away, ooh
Wastin’ time, I left my home in Georgia
Headed for the Frisco bay
’Cause I’ve had nothing to live for
And looks like nothing’s gonna come my way
So I’m just gon’ sit on the dock of the bay
Watchin’ the tide roll away, ooh
I’m sittin’ on the dock of a bay
Wastin’ time, looks like nothing’s gonna change
Everything still remains the same”
…
“Pass it over, Black,” Clement sighed, and Regulus obliged. He passed him the cigarette, watching how Clement took it into his mouth, and lit it with his wand, taking a long drag and puffing out the smoke towards Regulus. Regulus rolled his eyes, and looked out into the forest with a sigh. Everything felt like peace. “What are you thinking about?” Clement asked quietly, and Regulus shook his head.
“Nothing particularly,” Regulus answered as he took the cigarette back, and put it back into his mouth, “just thinking.”
“Ah, just thinking,” Clement repeated, and Regulus laughed. Regulus swung one of his legs over the side of the windowsill, attempting to become more comfortable. “I‘ve been looking out for you, lately.”
“How do you mean?” Regulus asked, still playing around with himself and trying to just be still. Clement seemed so calm in his position, criss-crossed and leaning against the glass.
Clement shrugged, “Ever since you fell from the fucking clouds I’ve been worried someone is going to smoke you.” Regulus started to laugh, just from his choice of phrasing. “Do you worry?”
Regulus shook his head, “Not really.”
“Liar,” Clement grinned.
“No,” Regulus laughed back.
“Could I let you in on something?” Clement asked almost excitedly, in which Regulus nodded, “I think I may fancy Roxanne.”
“Oh, God,” Regulus shook his head, “keep digging your grave.”
“Oi!” Clement took the cigarette from Regulus, “Aye, at least I’m getting some.” And it took Regulus a moment, before his eyes widened and Clement broke into laughter.
“No way,” Regulus gasped, “you’re shagging her!”
“Maybe!” Clement shrilled, “maybe!”
“Fuckin’ whore,” Regulus muttered, and Clement laughed.
Clement leaned against the cool glass again, “Don’t call me a whore again. You’re lucky I’m not strangling you.”
“Like you could,” Regulus countered. Clement just smiled.
The two boys seemed to stare out the window again together, watching the bright moon and falling into its grace. He felt so lucky to be able to see the moon that night, for the clouds weren’t covering it too much. Regulus’ mirrored his friend, and his pale skin rested upon the glass just as Clement had been doing. Regulus sighed into the cold simmer, but felt comfort somehow. “Regulus,” Clement wondered.
“Hmm?”
“Do you ever think about werewolves?” Clement asked.
“No,” Regulus answered plainly, “not really.”
“I do, sometimes,” Clement sighed again, “think maybe I’ll go into the services.”
Regulus hummed again, “Interesting.”
“Yeah,” Clement shook his head against the glass, looking funny, “I think I could see myself doing it. Catching them and all.” He sighed for the millionth time, “I used to have nightmares, as a child.”
“Really?” Regulus asked, genuinely.
“Mhm,” Clement stretched out into the small space, “night after night. Hated the bloody creatures.” Regulus watched as Clement’s eyes drifted back to the full moon, “Beautiful moon. Horrific outcome, eh?”
“Yes,” Regulus laughed almost, “that much is true.”
“Maybe it makes me a sadist,” Clement shrugged, “but it’s what I see myself doing. Putting them in cages, locking them away so they can’t hurt anyone else.” Clement seemed to really think, “All they do is hurt. Why do creatures exist in such a way?”
“I’ve always wondered,” Regulus added, even though he felt he was contributing nothing to the conversation.
Clement looked at Regulus finally, “How do you feel? What do you want to do?”
“About werewolves?”
“No, in general.”
“I don’t know,” Regulus kept looking out the window, “I mean, I really don’t think about it.”
Clement laughed, “How do you not think about it? I only think about my career.”
“And sex,” Regulus raised an eyebrow.
“And sex,” Clement agreed, Regulus laughed, “but you have no interests?”
“None.”
“Hobbies?”
“No.”
“Why?” Clement asked with a thrill.
“I suppose I feel my life is made out for me,” Regulus whispered, “I feel that I will end up where I need to, that I don’t need to have any drive for it.”
Clement stared with wonder, “How can you think that way?”
Regulus exhaled the smoke and let the cigarette rest on his knee, “I don’t know. I just always have.”
Clement nodded, maybe not understanding, but taking it as a conclusion to the conversation. “I’m gonna head back, I think,” Clement said as he got up, “you coming along?”
“No, I’m all right,” Regulus watched him.
“Really?” Clement smiled, “It’s late.”
“I’m aware,” Regulus smiled back, “I’ll catch you in the morning.”
“Cheers,” Clement began to walk as Regulus attempted to hand him the cigarette, “keep it, mate. Nearly burnt out anyway.”
“Lucky me,” Regulus muttered, and Clement laughed, before disappearing into the darkness. Regulus sighed and brought his legs up, letting them stretch out on the stone and fully allowing himself to relax in the solitude. He had really grown to enjoy the banter he had with Clement. He liked how easygoing he was, or the way he could just always smile or laugh no matter what they were talking about. That actually annoyed him, sometimes.
Regulus continued to milk the cigarette of its worth, the night time growing later and later. It was probably nearly midnight, then. His eyes had gotten used to watching the nature beside the castle, and he could’ve even sworn he saw perhaps a few students milling about. Strange, but not out of the ordinary, he assumed.
Regulus had the cigarette in his mouth, lighting it again, when he heard footsteps. He looked up, glancing, sitting there in his nightshirt and a pair of soft trousers. He raised an eyebrow to himself, before shrugging, and returning to his cigarette.
His friends always made fun of how he held it in his mouth. The way he concentrated on it, how it was always too far out or too far in. He’d burnt his tongue a couple times. He couldn’t get it right.
He heard footsteps again, and really stopped for a moment now. The cigarette lazily laid out of his mouth, and he leaned up in his seating. He looked around, squinting in the darkness. He began to see a body, standing off down the hallway, and Regulus felt his breath shake in his throat.
Regulus had been on a bit of an edge ever since Dumbledore told him he would possibly have to leave Hogwarts. And he figured getting caught smoking after hours was not going to help his case very much.
He swallowed, and quickly took the cigarette out of his mouth, hiding it behind his back. He cleared his throat, and tried to speak, but before he could, James Potter came into light. It was a very faint light, but Regulus recognized him, and James had an odd look on his face. “What are youdoing here?” Regulus groaned, practically.
James continued to walk towards him, but stopped by the statue in the center of the room. As James did so, he made his way into the dim moonlight seeping through the window, which made Regulus slightly more bothered than he already was. Perhaps Regulus felt territorial of that moonlight. It was beginning to feel like his spot, that night, after all. “I saw you smoking,” James didn’t answer the question, “you don’t have to hide it.”
“Passing through?” Regulus snapped, leaning against the window, “Or were you hoping to smoke with my mates and I?”
”Mates?” James asked, sarcastically looking about, “I don’t see any mates.”
Regulus rolled his eyes, “Piss off, Potter.” Of course, when he actually becomes accustomed to the word mates, he has to be teased for it. Typical luck. He put the cigarette back in his mouth, and lit it again with his wand.
James watched him, “Sirius does that.”
“Does he now?” Regulus asked, mouth stuffed.
“He does,” James answered. And Regulus rolled his eyes again. “What are you doing here?”
“What are you, a fucking prefect?” Regulus bit, pulling in the smoke and then taking the cigarette out of his mouth. He held it in his hand in a very proper way, the way he’d seen his father do it before.
“Hoping to be,” James admitted.
“Funny,” Regulus blew smoke out of his mouth, looking around. Anything but James. Bloody lunatic.
James watched him, “Well, I didn’t mean to run into you.”
Regulus looked up, genuinely unsure of what he meant, “What?”
“Um,” James cleared his throat, “I…” He shook his head, and Regulus was sure his harsh stare wasn’t helping. “I wanted to talk to you,” James finally got out.
Regulus stared at him, “Did you fucking locate me?”
“No,” James scoffed, “no. I was just on my way to something.” When Regulus didn’t seem to believe him, James continued, “I meant I’ve been meaning to chat with you, and it just seemed to sort of come together running into you here.”
“You didn’t run into me,” Regulus scoffed back, “I was having a smoke and you barged in like you were born with absolutely no fucking manners.”
James wasn’t impressed, “You know, when you say ‘fuck’ that much it ruins the impact.”
Regulus raised an eyebrow again, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” When James didn’t say anything, he dragged his cigarette again, and added, “Why did you want to talk to me?”
“Glad you asked,” James said sarcastically, and Regulus scoffed again, “I wanted to talk to you about your problem.”
“All right,” Regulus didn’t exactly know what he was talking about, so he began to grow a bit nervous, “what about it?”
James finally took a seat, which, to Regulus’ disgust, was on the floor. Sure, it was hopefully clean, but still — Regulus was very surprised with a boy of James’ status choosing to sit on the floor. “I wanted to offer my help,” James shrugged, “if you needed it.”
“Help for… what, exactly?”
“With whoever’s been, you know,” James looked at Regulus like he was an idiot, “attacking you, practically.”
Regulus took a moment, “Oh,” he shook his head, “no, I don’t need any help.”
“Really?” James crossed his eyebrows, “That seems to be going well for you, then.”
“The school’s handling it,” Regulus lied.
“Not what Sirius says,” James fought back.
“How would Sirius know?”
“He’s your brother,” James maintained Regulus’ eye contact.
“No, he isn’t,” Regulus said.
James sighed, getting up, “Fine. I forgot who I was talking to.” He brushed himself off, and began to walk away.
“Hey,” Regulus said a bit louder, “you can’t just say those things and walk out, like some coward.”
“I can,” James turned back around, “I don’t see any point in trying to have a conversation with you.”
“You’re shit,” Regulus insulted, before realizing that he had never said that before, and he didn’t know why he did. It was a bit of a lame insult.
James laughed, “I’m shit?” When Regulus didn’t have much to say back, James waved his hand, “Goodbye, Regulus. I’ll be at your funeral next weekend!” James said this with a cheerful tone of voice, which Regulus despised.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Regulus got up, “How could you fucking say that? I’m the brother of your—“
James stopped, “I thought you didn’t have a brother.”
Regulus pursed his lips, and stood far from him in the darkness, “I’m not going to be murdered, there won’t be a funeral.” James seemed to be amused by how serious Regulus took his joke, but Regulus attempted to finish with, “I don’t need your help.”
“Then don’t take it, goodnight,” James said simply.
“Right, goodnight,” Regulus rolled his eyes, aggravatingly sitting back down on the windowsill. He watched James walk away without another word, and felt so inexplicably bothered by the fucker that he wanted to follow him and shout even more profanities.
Of course, who was to assume that Regulus Black couldn’t fight back against whatever had been fighting with him? He was strong, he’s witty.
Who does James Potter think he is?
Regulus rolled his eyes, just to himself as he always did, and attempted to light the cigarette once more. When it refused, he stared at it a little longer, before becoming even more upset and throwing it aside. To hell with it, maybe.
He looked back onto the grounds, and to his own confusion, seemed to be able to spot James Potter, in the same clothes, walking across the grounds. Regulus watched him, watched where he was walking, wondered what the hell he was doing. But then he looked away.
Regulus just figured it wasn’t worth wondering about. Everyone had their secrets, as he did.
Regulus found that the spot was rather peaceful, even without a cigarette. He relaxed some more, laying down on his back and staring up at the stone above him. Everything was so beautiful in the castle, always at night.
He tried not to think about James Potter outside of the castle, or of Clement and Roxanne. What a mess that would be.
And he mostly tried not to think about Tarquin. Maybe he was with Maura, or maybe he was back in their room, where Regulus had been avoiding as of late.
Maybe, maybe, maybe. He could drown in the maybes.
But at the moment, he tried to let himself become focused, and fall in love with the edges and scratches in the stone above him. That was not art, but history, and age. And for once, he felt excited to age. To perhaps grow out of his young mind and into one he could control, he could trust. To become a man, with things to do, and places to be, and a wife, maybe, and maybe even children.
Children. Or meaning. He would rather have meaning. Meaning didn’t necessarily have to be children. But children were always meaning.
Meaning could simply be edges and scratches in the stone of one’s life.
And he thought more, and more, that maybe, just maybe, he could grow to be edges and scratches in the stone of another.