Mortal Once More

4th September, 1983 - Hogwarts Castle 

“Oh fuck ,” Sirius hisses with feeling, evidently not caring the slightest bit that they’re still surrounded by a huddle of underage students. 

Not that Regulus can bring himself to care much about that either, mind reeling, fear creeping down his spine as he stares at the unconscious form of Henry Rosier, eyes lingering on the scratch marks across his face and dark bruises scattered across his neck. Rosier’s injuries appear almost identical to the first victim’s. Evelyn Turner, or whatever her name is. 

“ Oh fuck , ” his older brother says again, even more vehemently this time. 

causing the students around them to start muttering and exchanging glances, one or two of them giggling awkwardly, as though not entirely sure whether they’re even allowed to laugh in a situation like this. 

“Eloquent as always, Sirius,” Regulus says wryly, without taking his eyes away from Rosier. “I think we all heard you the first time, though.” 

“Well, it bears repeating!” he replies defensively. 

“Think you might have been dating Remus for too long,” Regulus answers. “But…yeah, you probably make a good point, in this instance. For once in your life.”

“I thought I made some pretty damn good points about twenty minutes ago, actually,” Sirius retorts stubbornly. “You even admitted it.” 

Regulus feels his lips twitch slightly despite himself. 

“Alright, fine, you made some very good points about twenty minutes ago,” he concedes grudgingly. “But, as we’ve established, right now is probably more of an ‘oh fuck’ moment than an ‘inflating your already-highly-inflated ego’ moment.” 

Ignoring the indignant noise his brother makes, he turns to the small group of students who are still staring at them, pale-faced and wide-eyed. 

“Did one of you say before that Rosier was already like…this, when you found him?” 

Frantic nodding, all of them looking terrified. 

“Yes, we found him like this, Professor, we swear ,” pipes up the redheaded girl who had spoken before - Emily Thompson, or something like that, he thinks. Probably not great that his boyfriend frequently has to remind him of the kids’ names, when Fabian doesn’t even teach them. “We didn’t do this to him, we would never -”

“No, I wasn’t suggesting that any of you had done it,” Regulus interjects, raising a hand to cut her off - the girl shuts her mouth immediately, looking immensely relieved.

Although, now he comes to think of it, he’s fairly certain he’s witnessed Henry Rosier being an absolute dickhead to at least one of the students here, so it isn’t as though they would be lacking in motive…but no, he can’t see any girls with long blonde curls standing here. 

“I was just going to ask,” Regulus continues slowly, shaking himself a little, “if Rosier was already lying here like this when you all came across him - do I take it that means none of you managed to get a glimpse of his attacker?” 

The group of them stare at him, looking as bewildered as if he’d suddenly started speaking in rapid fire Mermish. 

“Well…no, sir,” one of the boys pipes up, a kid with a mop of blond hair and almost as many freckles as Fabian - something Mulligan, he’s pretty sure? “Reckon if we’d seen who it was, we’d have stopped them, pulled them off him and taken them to McGonagall, or something.” 

“Well, yes, you’d think so,” Regulus replies dryly, resisting the urge to kick something in frustration. “Though you might find that, in the heat of the moment, it was a bit too nerve-wracking a prospect to actually confront the culprit. That was the experience of the girl who witnessed the last attack, anyway. Although I suppose you lot would have had the advantage of safety in numbers, which Abbott didn’t.” 

“Wait…there was another attack, before this one?” asks the Thompson girl, somehow looking even more terrified than she had before. “Someone saw the attacker?”

Shit. He’d forgotten that most of the students and staff still didn’t have a clue about the attack on Evelyn Turner - Pomfrey is still keeping the curtains firmly drawn around her bed in the hospital wing. 

Well…it’s not as if the news wasn’t going to leak out eventually, Regulus tries to reassure himself. Probably as soon as Pomfrey deems the Abbott kid calm enough to leave the hospital wing - she doesn’t exactly seem like the type to be good at keeping secrets. 

“I…” he lets out a small sigh of defeat. “Yes, there was another attack. She’ll be alright, Pomfrey’s sorting her as we speak.” 

“But who - ”

“Look, never mind that,” Regulus interjects sharply, “let’s just forget I said anything, shall we?” He can see, out of the corner of his eye, Sirius trying and failing to suppress a small smirk, and knows his brother is enjoying his uncharacteristic moment of idiocy far too much. This knowledge does nothing to improve his mood. “So, all any of you can tell me is that Rosier was like this when you found him? You didn’t see anyone else doing anything to him, or anywhere in his vicinity? No girls with blonde curly hair, for instance?” 

Simultaneously, they all shake their heads, exchanging nonplussed glances. 

Regulus exhales slightly, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Right, well…thank you for your help,” he says, trying and failing to restrain his sarcasm. Alright, fine, so he wasn’t trying hard. “Well, if there’s nothing else that any of you can tell me - you were on your way back to your common room when you found him, you said, yes?” 

“Yes,” says the Thompson girl in a small voice. 

“Well then,” he says, “I suggest you all hurry up and get where you were going, then. My brother and I are perfectly capable of taking Rosier to the hospital wing between the two of us, I daresay.” 

They stare at him, their expressions varying degrees of crestfallen to disappointed to irritated, as though they were hoping they might become the heroes of this story, the essential element, the key to cracking the case. 

“But -”  Mulligan starts. 

“No,” Regulus overrides him flatly. “Get going.” 

One or two of them are brave enough to glare at him briefly; but it only takes a moment of his stony stare before they drop eye contact and concede defeat, a few of them risking a glance back before they scuttle off hastily, muttering to each other as they go. 

“And for the love of Merlin, don’t go bloody spreading this around, or it will be detention for every one of you, for the rest of the month!” he calls after them threateningly.

Sirius, to his credit, does at least wait until the group of them are out of earshot before he snorts, looking at Regulus in undisguised amusement. 

“Charming, Reg. You really do have such a way with children, you know that, don’t you? The poor little mites are probably traumatised!” 

“Oh fuck off,” he retorts. “They’re fifth-years, hardly little angels, I imagine they’ll live. It’s not as though they actually saw Rosier being attacked. Or had anything remotely useful to tell us.” 

“True, I s’pose,” Sirius concedes, chewing his lip thoughtfully as he glances after them. “You do know that they’re all going to completely ignore what you said about not spreading this around though, yes? Especially the bit where you so kindly informed them that this is the second attack?” 

Regulus sighs, still irritated at his own moment of stupidity. 

“Yes, I’m well aware of that, thanks. But I can’t be bothered to go modifying all their memories, or swearing them to Unbreakable Vows. Though it’s probably in my contract somewhere that I’m not allowed to do either of those things to students, now I come to think of it.” 

“Probably, yes,” Sirius agrees. “Shame, really.”

“Yep,” Regulus says, with another sigh. “You know as well as I do that I only said it to cover my ass, should anyone question how I handled this delicate situation, in which I was probably required to act with the utmost professionalism.” 

“You don’t give a shit what Dumbledore thinks about you, though,” Sirius replies, raising his eyebrows.

“I know I don’t,” Regulus answers. “I was talking about McGonagall. That woman is terrifying.” 

Sirius snorts again. 

“Minnie terrifies you , maybe. That’s probably just because you, unlike me, don’t enjoy the myriad of benefits that come with being her very favourite person. I bet you never got biscuit benefits.” 

“What the hell is a ‘biscuit benefit’?” 

“Exactly,” says Sirius - but his grin fades quickly as he looks down at the unconscious boy.

“We probably should get the kid to the hospital wing, y’know,” he mutters, sounding uncharacteristically sombre now. “Before anything else happens to him.” 

“Any one else, you mean,” says Regulus. He can’t stop himself from glancing around into every corner, even though he knows it’s pointless; whoever is doing this, they’d probably left the scene long before that group of idiots had come along. “But yeah, I take your point.” 

Sirius flicks his wand so that Rosier floats up midair in front of them, still unconscious, his head and limbs lolling. The sight is more than a little bit unnerving - not that Regulus would ever admit that to his brother. 

“Right, let’s get going then,” Sirius says, with a thin veil of bravado which reassures Regulus only in telling him that his brother is every bit as unsettled as he is. 

“Wait,” he says, as Sirius starts walking in the direction of the hospital wing, wand still pointing at Henry Rosier so the unconscious teenage boy floats along in front of him. Sirius stops, turning to look back at him in surprise. 

“What am I waiting for?” 

“We told Fabian to wait for us in my office, remember? I just want to tell him where we’re going so he doesn’t start worrying.” 

“Right,” says Sirius, “good point. We definitely don’t want Fab to get anxious about us, do we?” 

Seeing the beginnings of a smirk on his brother’s face, Regulus chooses not to dignify this with a response. Instead, he raises his own wand, concentrating hard on finding happy memories - this particular spell has never been exactly easy for him. 

Remus sitting up, blinking and startled, the puncture wound in his arm knitted up by Fawkes’s tears. You okay? Yeah…yeah, I think I am. 

Fabian staring at him in Dumbledore’s office, lip trembling, blue eyes glistening with tears. You always try your best, Reg. That's why I love you. 

Sirius looking at him just now, in the Hog's Head, expression patient and understanding for once. I don’t know if you’re that kind of person, Reg. But I know you don’t want to be. You never did, really. 

“Expecto Patronum,” Regulus whispers, his voice a little shaky. 

A small, elegant and silvery cat bursts from the end of his wand. It turns to him with a rather haughty expression on its little whiskered face; but Regulus is surprised by the rush of affection he feels at the sight of his own Patronus, nonetheless. 

Tell him we’ll be in the hospital wing. There’s been another attack , he thinks, trying hard to hold on to those brightest of memories, so that the cat doesn’t fade away. 

The silvery feline holds eye contact with him for another moment; then, it coils itself around him, leaving a brief but strong impression of bright, silvery warmth in his chest, before turning and soaring ahead of them in midair to deliver the message.

“Right,” says Regulus, shaking himself a little as he turns back to Sirius, “let’s -” He stops, realising that his brother is staring at him, an expression on his face that he can’t quite read. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“I just…” Sirius hesitates. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you cast a Patronus before, that’s all.” 

He’s not quite sure why that makes something burn at the back of his throat. 

“Well,” he says, trying and failing to shrug nonchalantly. “Happy memories were never exactly my strong suit. You know that. But…it’s a bit easier to find them these days, I suppose.” 

Sirius is still looking at him in that strange way, and Regulus looks down, suddenly finding it difficult to maintain eye contact with his stupid older brother. 

“That’s…that’s good, Reg,” Sirius says finally, his voice slightly croaky. “I’m glad.” 

“Yeah,” he replies quietly, still looking down at his feet. “Yeah, me too, I guess.” 

They both fall silent for a moment. 

“Right, well, we can’t stand around chatting all day” says Sirius, breaking the silence with a touch too much bravado in his voice to be believable; Regulus finally deems it safe to look up again. “This kid certainly isn’t going to make it to the hospital wing by himself, is he?” 

“We have some bad news for you,” Regulus announces ten minutes later, walking into the hospital wing. 

“Professor Black?” Pomfrey asks, frowning slightly as she bustles over towards them. 

“Well, now, Poppy, it’s very sweet of you to call me ‘Professor,” says Sirius, his attempt at a smirk not quite managing to hide the tension tightening his jaw, “but honestly, just plain ‘Your Highness’ is good enough for me.” 

“Sirius?” For a moment, she looks bewildered by the mere fact that they’re standing next to each other without trying to murder each other; Regulus supposes he can’t blame her for that. “But what are you…” Her expression turns horrified as she takes in the unconscious Rosier, still floating in midair at Sirius’s side; a rather eerie sight, Regulus has to admit. She lets out a gasp, hands flying to her mouth. “Not another one?” 

“Afraid so,” Regulus replies, with a small sigh. “And no witnesses at all this time, it seems. There was a group of students with him already when my brother and I came across the scene; apparently, the kid was already like this when they found him.” 

Pomfrey stares at him, wide-eyed. 

“ Students saw him like this?”

“Yep,” says Sirius grimly. “ And Reg freely volunteered the information that this was the second attack. A bit irresponsible of him, I thought.” 

Regulus scowls at him.

“Thanks a lot, Sirius.” 

“I’m here for you, Reg, you know that.”  

As Regulus huffs, the door of the hospital wing bangs open behind them, making him wince slightly - but his irritation at the loud noise swiftly vanishes as he turns to see his boyfriend striding across the ward towards them, his scattering of freckles standing out starkly against his pale skin, as they always do when he’s anxious. 

“Reg, what’s happened?” Fabian demands, his worry making him sound almost angry. 

Something scrabbles frantically at Regulus’s chest, reaching, yearning - without really meaning to, he steps forwards, helping to close the distance between them. Fabian takes his face in his big, warm hands, and he leans into the touch a little, trying his hardest not to make an embarrassing noise, some small part of him aware that his brother is already never going to let him hear the end of this. “What’s…are you alright? Are you hurt?” the taller man whispers, his gaze scanning frantically over Regulus’s face, his thumbs stroking small, soothing circles over his cheekbones. 

His hands are shaking a little, Regulus realises. Out of nowhere, he feels a surge of love so strong that he has to physically bite his tongue, to stop himself from blurting it out right here and now. Instead, he nods, forcing himself to resist the urge to lean forward and bury his face in the other man’s chest.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine, Fabian.” 

“Really?” the other man asks, sounding more than a little sceptical. “But…your Patronus…you said there had been another attack…”

Regulus tries to let out a sarcastic huff, but he’s a little overwhelmed by the realisation that Fabian is apparently so focused on worrying about him that he hasn’t yet spotted the unconscious kid floating in midair at Sirius’s side. 

“Yeah, there has been, you idiot,” he says, trying and failing to hide the adoration in his voice. “But it’s not me - I haven’t been attacked.” 

“Oh. Right.” Fabian responds shakily, sounding almost weak with relief for a moment. Once again, Regulus battles against the urge to pull his boyfriend’s face down and snog him senseless. “So…who…?” 

“Well, hello there, Fab, it’s lovely to see you too!” Sirius announces, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Honestly, I love you too, you know I do, but you might want to tone down your enthusiasm in greeting me - what we had was in the past. It’s just getting embarrassing now, darling.” 

“Sirius?” Fabian asks, finally looking away from Regulus. 

“Yep. Thoughtful of you to stop cuddling my little brother long enough to notice me. Well, notice us , I s’pose.” 

“Us…?” Fabian echoes, frowning in bewilderment for a split second. 

With a grim expression, Sirius flicks his wand slightly, so that the unconscious Henry Rosier floats forwards slightly in midair, bumping into Fabian’s side slightly. Fabian jumps violently, his attention finally - rather forcibly - drawn to the kid. 

“Oh, fuck!” he exclaims, staring down at Rosier, bright blue eyes wide with horror and revulsion. 

“That’s what I said!” Sirius announces. “See, Reg? On the same wavelength, your boyfriend and I.” 

“Shut up , Sirius,” Regulus snipes, glaring at him. 

Ignoring both of them, Fabian bends down slightly to examine the kid more closely. Regulus can tell that he’s trying to suppress his disgust. 

“How long ago did the students find poor Mr Rosier here?” Pomfrey asks faintly, apparently having decided that everything else going on here is none of her business. Regulus is grateful. 

“Uhh…must be about half an hour ago now?” he responds. “Approximately? Maybe forty-five minutes at most?” 

The nurse nods a little shakily, chewing absentmindedly on her bottom lip as she looks down at the kid. Fabian looks up, staring at both Regulus and Sirius now. 

“Wait…it wasn’t you two who found the kid? It was students?” Regulus nods. “Did they come to fetch you again, Reg?”

“Nope,” Sirius answers before he can reply, “ we sort of stumbled across them , actually.”

“Shit,” says Fabian eloquently. “So that’s a few more kids who have been traumatised then, I guess.” 

“Well, none of them actually witnessed the attack this time,” Regulus replies. 

“Well, that might be a bugger for us, in terms of investigating,” Fabian answers, now frowning up at him, “but they would still have been bloody frightened by this, Reg.” 

“Yep,” Sirius chimes in, “especially when Reg decided to tell them that this was the second attack.”

“You told them that?” Fabian asks, eyes widening in shock. 

“Fuck’s sake, Sirius,” Regulus says through gritted teeth, choosing to scowl at his older brother rather than answer his boyfriend’s question, “will you let that go already?” 

“Hmm…” Sirius pretends to think for a second. “Nope, don’t think I will.” 

“Poor bloke has fingerprint marks all over his throat,” Fabian mutters, apparently electing to ignore their bickering as he squints down at the Rosier kid again. “His face has been scratched up, too. Just like Evelyn Turner. So…whoever attacked this kid, it must be the same person who attacked Evelyn.”

“Yes. I would have thought that much was fairly obvious,” says Regulus, before he can stop himself. Fabian looks up at him. 

“Y’know, given that you apparently just informed a bunch of kids that this was not the first but the second attack -  thus almost guaranteeing that every kid in this school will be panicking by the end of the day - I think I could do with a bit less sarcasm, thanks, Reg.” 

He grimaces as Sirius sniggers. Touche. 

“You’re right,” he mutters. “Sorry.” 

But when he chances a glance at the other man, he sees a glimmer of amusement in his boyfriend’s eyes. 

“If I’m honest, I prefer it when you give me a different kind of lip.” 

He rolls his eyes, even though he can feel the heat that instantly rushes to his cheeks, giving him away. 

“Eww,” Sirius complains loudly, wrinkling his nose. “Come on, Fab! I was on your side for a second there!” 

Fabian just shrugs back at him, a small grin playing across his mouth. 

“What did you expect me to do? It was right there.” 

Pomfrey clears her throat loudly, so that both Sirius and Fabian promptly shut up. Regulus finds himself once again silently thanking her. 

“Sorry, Poppy,” says Fabian, raising his hands and grimacing at her apologetically. “Won’t happen again, I promise.” 

“It better not,” Sirius mutters. 

“Alright, so back up a second,” Fabian continues, as though Sirius hadn’t spoken. “So you two must have come across the kid - Rosier, is it? - soon after Sirius sent me a Patronus telling me to wait for you both in Reg’s office, right?” 

“Yep, that’s right,” says Sirius immediately. “See, I had this brilliant idea, probably the best idea I’ve ever had - hell, maybe it’s the best idea anyone’s ever had, I’m not gonna dim my light here - so we were just on our way to tell you about it -”

Fabian rolls his eyes.

“Sirius, I know you’re clever and all that, but I doubt it was that wonderful -”

“No, it was,” Regulus admits, with great reluctance. Fabian stops short at that, staring at him. “I hate to admit it, obviously - but it might be one of the best ideas I’ve ever heard. One of the craziest, too - obviously - but still.” 

Fabian goggles at him, as Sirius smirks in a thoroughly irritating, self-satisfied way. It seems to take Fabian a moment to find his voice again. 

“I see,” he says finally. “Well, you’ve definitely got my attention now - it must be pretty bloody good, if even Reg is admitting it.” 

“Oh, it is,” says Sirius cheerfully, “I’ll be happy to share my genius with you, Fab. Oh, and thanks for convincing my little brother to apologise for being a dick, by the way. I appreciate it.” 

“I…” Fabian looks slightly bewildered by this onslaught of information. “You’re welcome?”

“I apologised for being a dick too, by the way,” Sirius continues brightly. “I’m just very mature like that. Call it character growth.” 

Regulus rolls his eyes, as Fabian looks back and forth between the two of them, a thoroughly gobsmacked expression on his face that Regulus tries not to find too adorable. 

“Did either of you actually inform the headmaster about Mr Rosier’s attack?” Pomfrey pipes up suddenly. “Before bringing him here to me, I mean?” 

“What?” Regulus replies oh-so-eloquently, blinking at her for a moment. “Oh - no, we haven’t got around to telling him yet.” 

“I see,” she says, pinching the bridge of her nose as though praying for patience - which Regulus doesn’t appreciate one bit, not least because he’s not used to being on the receiving end of that gesture. “Well then, might I suggest that, given there are no witnesses to interrogate about hair colour this time, I can put Mr Rosier to bed and do my best to help him, while you three go and inform the headmaster of this latest development? I may not be in the habit of coming up with ingenious plans, but it seems to me that informing Albus Dumbledore that there has been a second attack would be the most logical course of action, wouldn’t it?” 

“I…fine, yes, I suppose so,” Regulus huffs reluctantly, barely repressing a groan. “The old man is probably in his office; we can go and have a chat with him, if we must.” 

Both Pomfrey and Fabian blink at him in surprise. 

“Should we not just send a message to the headmaster asking him to come down here and see Mr Rosier for himself?” the matron asks, looking somewhat bewildered; apparently echoing Fabian’s thoughts, judging by his awkward little nod. 

“We could,” Regulus agrees wearily, “but I don’t see much point. You’re the one with the medical training, not him; I doubt he’ll be able to do anything for the Rosier kid that you’re not doing already. He saw the Turner girl’s injuries for himself, so he’ll know what we mean when we tell him Rosier’s been attacked in exactly the same way. And it’s not as if there’s a witness this time,” he adds, with a small shrug. “Nobody here for him to interrogate and amuse himself by making me look like an idiot, so I doubt he’d consider it worth his time to come down here, really.” 

“Dumbledore made you look like an idiot?” Sirius pipes up, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “Dammit, I miss all the fun! What did he do?” 

“To be fair to Reg, he sort of made both of us look like idiots, really,” Fabian admits, with a slight grimace, as Regulus glares at his older brother.

“Yeah, but -” 

“Sirius,” Fabian says warningly, his tone suddenly uncharacteristically stern and sharp. Regulus certainly doesn’t get momentarily distracted by a quiver of molten heat pooling in his stomach. Nope. 

“Yeah?” Sirius replies, looking genuinely taken aback for a moment. 

“‘Character growth’”, Fabian tells him pointedly, narrowing his eyes. “Remember?” 

“Right.” Regulus is amazed to see that his brother actually looks a little sheepish, even if only for a split second. “Yeah…good point. I can shut up. Well, I can try to, anyway. Sorry, Reg,” he adds, turning to look at him, his expression sincere. 

Regulus looks at his boyfriend in amazement.

“How did you do that?” 

Fabian’s lovely mouth twitches into a grin at that. 

“I can be persuasive,” he responds, leaning down to press a brief kiss against Regulus’s forehead and gently twisting their fingers together. “Right, let’s pay Dumbledore a visit, shall we?” 

“Liquorice wand,” Regulus announces when they reach the gryphon gargoyle, trying his best to keep his voice steady and businesslike, despite the grounding warmth of Fabian’s hand in his (his boyfriend, evidently on edge despite his attempts to prove otherwise, had refused to let go of his hand all the way from the hospital wing). 

The gargoyle immediately spreads its wings, revolving slowly to reveal the winding staircase leading up to the headmaster’s office. 

Sirius snorts.

“ That’s the password?” 

“Yep,” Regulus responds, with a shrug. “The old man has the tastebuds of a seven-year-old child.” 

“You are very judgy, Reg,” says Fabian, looking at him sideways; Regulus feels his stupid heart swell, hearing the absurd fondness in the other man’s voice. “Has anyone ever told you that?” 

“It’s been mentioned once or twice,” he replies, aiming for deadpan, but when he caves to temptation and steals a glance at Fabian, seeing the adoring grin on his face, he feels his own lips twitching into a traitorous grin to mirror it. 

Sirius, ever the drama queen, heaves an exaggerated sigh at the pair of them, stepping forwards to knock on the oak door. 

“Enter,” calls Dumbledore’s voice, after a brief pause. 

“We have some news for -” Sirius stops short suddenly. 

Regulus, walking into the office just behind him, still hand in hand with Fabian, freezes. He can see exactly why his brother was caught by surprise now. 

“Ah,” says Dumbledore pleasantly, a glimmer of amusement in his bright eyes, although his expression doesn’t twitch as he gazes at them over his half-moon spectacles. “A cousins’ reunion, it would seem.” 

Andromeda and Narcissa are sitting across from him, both of them twisting around to stare at Sirius, Regulus and Fabian, looking just as startled as Regulus feels at the sight of them. He’s not sure why he feels so wrong-footed, really; it’s not as if he hadn’t already known they were helping the Order now. It just hadn’t occurred to him that Dumbledore would be having meetings with the two of them without informing him. 

“Andy?” Sirius blurts out, sounding slightly bewildered. 

“Yeah,” Andromeda replies quietly, smiling at him. “Hi there. How are you, sweetheart?” 

“Sirius,” Narcissa pipes up, her grey eyes narrowing as she looks at him, sounding far less pleased at the sight than her sister. “Well, well. It has been a while.” The note of disdain in her voice is impossible to miss.

“ Delightful to see you too, Cissy,” Sirius answers, shooting her a sugary sweet smile laced with poison. “I guess that answers that question, at least. You really haven’t been attacking these kids - or not this latest one, at least. Don’t suppose you’d have had the time to scratch the Rosier kid up that badly and then come and meet with Dumbledore without even a hair out of place, would you?” 

Both sisters are staring at him in utter shock now, mouths open, as though neither knows how to even begin with a response to that. For a moment, silence billows around the room in the wake of the bombshell Sirius just dropped. 

“There has been a second attack?” Dumbledore asks finally, a slight frown line appearing on his forehead as he looks at Sirius; but it’s Regulus who answers. 

“Yep. Henry Rosier, from Slytherin. Unfortunately a group of kids came across him lying there before Sirius and I arrived on the scene - but it seems there wasn’t anyone who actually witnessed the attack this time.” 

“Unfortunate indeed,” the headmaster responds, his face completely blank now. “I presume that the two of you took Mr Rosier to the hospital wing so that Poppy could tend to him?” 

“Obviously,” Regulus replies dryly. 

The old man nods. 

“I believe you said he was ‘scratched up’, Sirius? Did he have fingerprint marks on his throat, too? As though somebody had been trying to strangle him?” 

“Yep,” Sirius confirms, “it was pretty grim.” 

“But Mr Rosier was merely unconscious?” Dumbledore checks. “I presume one of you would have mentioned it by now, if his fate was as tragic as poor Alfie Thomas’s.” 

“Yes, he was just unconscious,” Regulus replies. “Whoever did it, they either failed to kill him, or chose not to.” 

“So, in other words, this attack was almost exactly identical to the attack on Evelyn Turner?” 

“Yes.” 

“But there was no witness at all this time, so we are no closer to catching the culprit?” 

“Pretty much, yes,” says Regulus sardonically. “Thanks for summing it up with such delicate sensitivity.” 

“Hold on a second,” Narcissa chimes in suddenly, raising a hand to stop them, looking back and forth between Sirius and Regulus. “Two children have been attacked, yes?” 

“Correct,” Regulus replies stiffly. 

“But what did you mean exactly, Sirius, just now?” she demands, her eyes narrowing into slits. “You said ‘you really haven’t been attacking these kids.’ But who the hell was suggesting this was anything to do with me?” 

Helpfully, both Dumbledore and Sirius choose this moment to look pointedly at Regulus. Regulus glares at his brother for a moment, silently cursing him once again for his inability to keep his mouth shut. This is exactly what they’d agreed not to tell her. 

“There was a witness who saw the last girl being attacked,” he mutters reluctantly, avoiding his cousin’s icy gaze. “She only saw the attacker from behind, from a distance. She said it was a young woman with long blonde curls. As it turns out, the ‘young woman’ in question was wearing a school uniform - but the Abbott girl failed to mention that part until Dumbledore prompted her later.” 

“And your first thought was to accuse me? ” Narcissa demands, looking positively dangerous now. Regulus winces. 

“You did cross my mind, yes,” he mutters. “I mean…you do have long blonde curls. And I knew you had just been here in Dumbledore’s office, so…”

“How dare -” Narcissa begins to snarl, but to Regulus’s surprise, it’s Fabian who interrupts her. 

“Reg and I briefly jumped to the wrong conclusion about you, yes,” he says suddenly, his tone uncharacteristically icy, “and we’re both happy to admit we were wrong, and apologise for that.” Regulus senses his boyfriend isn’t quite done yet; glancing up at him, he sees that Fabian is looking at Narcissa, his bright eyes narrowed in disdain, anger and dislike etched into his face. It shocks Regulus a little; he’s not sure he even knew Fabian was capable of looking at somebody like that. “But, on the other hand, it seems to me that you’re being remarkably self-righteous, Mrs Malfoy, for a woman who turned a blind eye when her own husband was knowingly passing a highly dangerous item to an innocent child, leading in turn to numerous other children being harmed and traumatised. All for the sake of saving his own skin.” 

The silence is deafening as Narcissa stares back at him.  

“What?” she whispers, looking at Fabian with a thunderstruck expression on her face. Regulus thinks it might be the first time he’s seen Narcissa be totally disarmed. 

Fabian continues to glare at her, his jaw tightening. 

“Your darling Lucius pawned the diary that You-Know-Who gave him off on my nephew, trying to save himself in case the Ministry came calling,” he says relentlessly. “I don’t know if he actually knew that diary contained a piece of his master’s soul - but he certainly knew it would open the Chamber of Secrets, and he knew that Muggleborn students here were being attacked and even killed as a result, and he knew that my eleven-year-old nephew would be unwittingly caught up in all that shit, which would traumatise him at best, and quite possibly kill him at worst. But apparently he didn’t give a shit about any of that, as long as he didn’t get caught in possession of that diary. My nephew survived his ordeal, thank Merlin , but it’s going to be a long while before he can get past it. He might never fully heal, after what he was forced to go through.” 

Regulus stares at him, stunned by this outburst - Sirius is goggling at him, too, while Andromeda is looking uneasily at her sister. Narcissa has gone even paler than her usual alabaster as she gazes back at him in horror. 

“But I didn’t know,” she whispers. “I…I didn’t know any of that. Lucius didn’t tell me any of it.” 

Fabian continues to glare at her, looking strangely intimidating for a man who is usually, in Regulus’s experience, warm and kind to a fault. 

“I seem to recall that the whole story was reported on in The Prophet shortly afterwards, thanks to my friend and his big mouth here,” he says, gesturing towards Sirius, who shuffles his feet uncomfortably, a sheepish expression on his face. “That was how You-Know-Who knew to go after your husband in the first place, wasn’t it?” 

“ The Prophet prints lies all the time,” Narcissa replies, jutting her chin out, that defiant gesture that every single member of their family seems to share. 

“True,” Fabian agrees, though his expression doesn’t soften the tiniest bit. “But your husband immediately running off without a word to you was a bit of a giveaway that The Prophet was right about that much at least, surely?” 

Narcissa opens her mouth - and promptly closes it again, apparently having no sharp retort for that. 

“Look,” Fabian says, with a small sigh. “I understand that you miss your husband, and you loved him. I can’t pretend to understand why you loved the bastard - maybe he had some tiny shred of decency buried somewhere very deep, that he only ever showed to you and never to anybody else, I don’t know. And it might be true that he didn’t keep you informed of what he was up to at the time, but it seems to me that it’s not possible for you to keep defending him now without being selectively oblivious. I appreciate that you’re risking a lot by defecting to the Order’s side to avenge him, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re deliberately turning a blind eye to the fact that Lucius Malfoy was a shitty human being who caused a lot of people a lot of harm. And I imagine you were turning a blind eye to all the damage he was causing, the crimes he happily took part in, for years - which pretty much made you complicit in those crimes, even if you weren’t actively participating.” 

Regulus looks down, feeling a nauseating surge of shame swirling in his stomach. How is it that Fabian is able to not only forgive Regulus but love him, when he apparently finds it such a struggle to forgive Narcissa? Is it because Regulus has been trying to atone for longer? Or is it simply that Narcissa’s complicity hits closer to home for him, because of what her husband had done to Bill?  

“So,” Fabian concludes quietly, his tone icy, “Regulus and I apologise for thinking, briefly, that it might have been you who attacked Evelyn Turner, Mrs Malfoy. But you understand, I hope, why I’m struggling to be all that sympathetic to your righteous indignation right now.” 

A deafening silence settles in the aftermath of this unexpected outburst, everyone except Dumbledore looking uneasily at Fabian. The headmaster seems to be trying to suppress a small grin, while Narcissa blinks at the redheaded man towering over her, tears clinging to her long eyelashes, with an expression that suggests the ground has fallen out from under her feet. 

Finally, Andromeda breaks the unbearable silence with a long, awed whistle. 

“Well, damn ,” she says, her tone thoroughly impressed. “It’s Fabian Prewett, right?” 

It’s Fabian’s turn to blink now, looking a little confused as he turns to look at the dark-haired sister. 

“Uh…yes, that’s me,” he says, sounding much less sure of himself suddenly. 

“The man that Regulus is in love with, I presume?” she says, nodding down towards their hands. 

Regulus feels heat burning in his cheeks immediately, remembering that he and Fabian had walked into the office hand in hand earlier, not realising Dumbledore would have company already. 

“What?” he splutters. “I…that’s none of your…” 

“Yes, indeed, this is the man,” Dumbledore informs Andromeda casually, ignoring Regulus’s protests. Regulus glares at him - not that that fazes the old man in the least. 

He can feel Fabian’s eyes on him now, as his face burns. He would quite like to sink through the carpet right about now. 

“Well, Regulus, you have good taste,” Andromeda continues brightly. “He’s kind, but fierce.” 

“Thanks,” Fabian replies, looking more comfortable now as he grins at her. 

“You’re welcome,” she says, smiling back at him easily. “I haven’t come across many men brave enough to stand up to my sisters.” Narcissa glares at her, but Andromeda ignores it. “Kind, brave, very strong moral compass,” she continues, laughing to herself a little now, shaking her head as she looks at Regulus. “Merlin, you really do have a type, don’t you?” 

Regulus freezes.

“Meaning?” he snaps, sharper than he’d intended. 

She laughs again, rolling her eyes.

“Oh come on, you were pining after James Potter for years , you’re not as subtle as you think you are, Regulus -” 

“I’m sorry, what?” Sirius demands loudly, staring between Regulus and Andromeda, looking utterly horrified. “He was pining after who ?” 

Regulus flinches before he can stop himself. Shit. 

“Whoops,” says Andromeda - for some godforsaken reason, she looks amused at the expression on Sirius’s face. “Apparently you’re too subtle for some people - or maybe I’m just very observant. I genuinely did think your infatuation with James Potter was common knowledge, though - I hope I haven’t just put my foot in my mouth too badly?” she asks, turning back to Fabian. 

“No, don’t worry,” the taller man reassures her; to Regulus’s incredulity (and irritation), he too is looking far too entertained by this conversation. “We’ve already discussed his James Potter phase, it’s not news to me.” 

“You’ve what?” Sirius practically shrieks, his appalled expression still firmly in place as he stares at Fabian. “You’ve discussed his…what do you mean, you’ve discussed it?”

“I mean exactly what I said,” the freckled man replies, still looking far too amused for a man whose boyfriend is currently glaring at him so fiercely it’s a wonder he hasn’t got a hole burned through his head. “And you can stop looking at me like that, Reg,” he adds, not seeming fazed in the slightest as he turns to Regulus, who feels as though his face is on fire, “I kept my promise, didn’t I? It was your cousin who brought it up, not me.” 

“Your promise? ” Sirius echoes, his face twisted in outraged betrayal. “Are you seriously saying that you not only knew about this, you also promised to keep it from me?!”

“Yes and yes,” Fabian responds calmly. “Can’t imagine why Reg didn’t want you knowing that he once had feelings for your best friend - it’s not as though you would blow it entirely out of proportion, or anything.” 

Sirius emits a wordless, indignant noise at such a high pitch that Regulus thinks it might not be long until only dogs can hear him. 

“Wait - does James know that Regulus was head over heels for him for years?” Andromeda pipes up curiously - as though she hasn’t caused enough chaos already - apparently completely unperturbed by both Sirius’s horror and Regulus’s mortification. 

Sirius lets out another sound - not so much a word as a noise akin to an old-fashioned teapot shrieking loudly on a stovetop. It’s a shame really, Regulus thinks distantly- he might be really enjoying his brother’s agony right now, were he not so focused on his own. 

Dumbledore clears his throat slightly, so that they all turn around to look at him, jumping slightly - Regulus had almost forgotten he was there. 

“As entertaining as this discussion might be,” the old man says, with a glimmer of amusement in his bright eyes - Regulus makes one last desperate, internal plea for the floor to open up and swallow him whole, which unfortunately goes unanswered - “I think perhaps we may have gotten a little side-tracked. I believe Regulus, Sirius and Fabian came here to discuss the second attack on a student?” 

That wipes the smirks from Andromeda and Fabian’s faces. A taut, tense silence stretches across the office. 

“I think we can all agree that this mysterious attacker, while certainly female with long blonde hair, according to the testimony of our only eyewitness, is not Narcissa,” Dumbledore continues, nodding towards her courteously. “Although, as Fabian pointed out - rather articulately - that was, although inaccurate, not a wholly unreasonable assumption to make.” 

Holding her head high, Narcissa glares back at him - though it seems she has no response. Dumbledore, not seeming to have expected one, turns to Regulus. 

“You said that the victim this time was Henry Rosier, from Slytherin?” 

“Yes,” Regulus answers, finally feeling safe enough to look up, now they seem to have moved on from the topic of James Potter. 

“Rosier?” Narcissa murmurs. “But…”

“Yes, a strange choice of target,” Dumbledore interrupts. “The Rosier family are well-respected amongst the purebloods, and indeed amongst the Death Eaters - as I’m sure the two of you are well aware,” he adds, nodding at Andromeda and Narcissa, “your own mother Druella having been born a Rosier herself.” 

Andromeda’s jaw tightens, looking rather less than pleased at the reminder of her mother; given what her family had done to her, Regulus supposes he can’t exactly blame her. 

“That’s what I was thinking,” he pipes up grudgingly - reluctant, as ever, to admit that he and Dumbledore might be thinking along the same lines. “This clearly isn’t like what was happening with the Chamber, when only Muggleborns were being victimised. Why target the heir to one of the most loyal Death Eater families?” 

“Why indeed,” Dumbledore murmurs, rather less than helpfully. 

“I’d be tempted to say it was some kind of counter-attack,” Fabian muses. “Like, a statement against the Death Eaters, or something - albeit a pretty bloody violent and misguided one. Except…Evelyn Turner has nothing to do with the Death Eaters, right?” 

“No, she’s nothing to do with the Death Eaters,” Regulus replies, “and nothing to do with the Order either, as far as I know?” He looks at Dumbledore for confirmation; the old man just nods, which Regulus takes to mean he’s correct. “She’s just a kid in Gryffindor,” he continues. “Half-blood, I think?” 

“So, this blonde girl that’s attacking these kids…she’s choosing victims entirely at random?” Andromeda asks slowly. 

“Certainly looks like it,” Sirius agrees, apparently having finally recovered enough from Andromeda’s bombshell to contribute. 

They all fall silent for a moment at that, presumably contemplating the terrifying chaos of that prospect.

“But if this blonde girl - whoever she is - is so intent on choosing victims, random or not,” Fabian pipes up, with a slightly nauseated expression on his face, “isn’t it a bit weird that she’s strangled two kids so far, but only to the point of unconsciousness, and then just…left the scene? I mean, do you think she thought she’d killed Evelyn and Rosier? Or is she deliberately leaving them badly hurt, but not actually dead, as some kind of…I don’t know, warning, or twisted mind game, or something? In which case, surely she would have thought of the very high risk that one or both of them might remember and be able to identify her as soon as they regain consciousness?”

“We have no way of knowing how smart this kid is,” Sirius points out. “She’s been clever enough to slip under the radar so far; it’s entirely possible she had the foresight to approach those kids and take them out from behind, so they wouldn’t have any chance of incriminating her, even if she didn’t manage to kill them.”

“There doesn’t seem to be any pattern with the victims so far,” Regulus muses, “other than the fact that they were both unconscious when they could easily have been killed. But what if the choice of victims seems random because…because neither of them were a choice?”

“What do you mean?” Andromeda asks, looking slightly bewildered now as she frowns at him. 

“Well,” he says slowly, “it wouldn’t exactly be the first time one of the students was being controlled by something much more powerful than them, would it?” He casts a darkly significant look at Dumbledore. “Dark Magic has the capacity to override free will - and we’ve already seen proof that kids make easy targets.” 

He hears Fabian’s sharp intake of breath beside him, and feels a twinge of guilt for his bluntness. But he doesn’t look away from the headmaster. 

“A very valid point, Regulus,” the old man acknowledges after a beat, bowing his head a little. “Perhaps it would be worthwhile to check in with young Bill again.”

“What?” Fabian exclaims, staring at Dumbledore in outraged horror. “No! Bill has nothing to do with this, you know he doesn’t, he would never - how could he still be being controlled? That creepy little diary is gone now, thank Merlin, along with the man who decided to plant it on him.”

He shoots Narcissa another uncharacteristically cold glare as he says the last words; she doesn’t respond, but Regulus sees her attempt to suppress her flinch. 

“Well yeah, Moony destroyed the diary,” says Sirius, failing to hide the softness in his tone at the mention of his boyfriend, “but there’s no rule that says only one fucked up thing can be happening in this place, Fab. Clearly.” 

Fabian grimaces, clearly reluctant to concede the point. 

“But after everything that happened, Bill wouldn’t be going anywhere near anything that felt even remotely off - I mean for Godric’s sake, the poor kid’s been scared of his own bloody shadow ever since!” he protests, his voice shaking a little. “And who can blame him?”

“It is perfectly natural for you to feel protective of your nephew, Fabian,” Dumbledore interjects quietly, “especially given the ordeal he went through. But you misunderstand me, I think. I did not mean to suggest that Bill should be interrogated as a suspect in this case - evidently, he is not a young blonde woman, and I am fairly certain we can rule out the possibility that he has taken control of her free will, whoever this attacker may be. No, I simply meant that, if this is another case of possession or something similar, rather than someone simply acting of their own accord, then Bill will, I suspect, have a more intimate knowledge and understanding than anyone else in this castle, in regards to what signs we ought to be looking out for. After all, who would know how such a thing might feel, how it might outwardly manifest itself, better than him?” 

Fabian’s expression of outrage does not vanish; if anything, he looks even more furious now. 

“So you’re saying you want to pull him in and force him to relive his worst nightmare, to share all the most terrifying details with you, dredge up all this still-fresh trauma that he’s been trying so hard to move on from - just on the off chance that something similar might be happening again, and it might be useful to you? Hasn’t he been through enough as it is? He’s only twelve years old , for Godric’s sake!” 

“Fabian,” Regulus interjects quietly, hating himself a little as he puts a gentle hand on the taller man’s arm, “he’s right. You know how much I hate to admit it, but…well, he is, in this instance. I’m so sorry, I understand that it will hurt your nephew - and you, by extension. But don’t you see, if this is a case of possession, or mind control, or Imperius, or whatever the fuck is going on here, how useful Bill’s insight would be?”

Fabian draws in another sharp breath, as though Regulus has punched him in the stomach, winded him - and the expression on his face makes something deep inside Regulus tremble and crack. 

“Right,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically quiet now. Almost unnervingly blank. “I see. Just as long as my nephew can make himself useful, huh?” 

Regulus feels strangely winded himself, fighting against the absurd urge to fall to his knees in front of the man he loves. 

Please. He has to bite his tongue to force the words back. Please, please, don’t look at me like that. I’m trying to do the right thing. I’m not a hero, I never claimed to be. I’m not like you. 

“We shall, of course, be doing our best to keep a very close eye on all the students,” Dumbledore says quietly, thankfully breaking the unbearable silence. “You know that we have no intention of making Bill feel singled out, Fabian.” 

The freckled man lets out a short, humourless laugh at that. 

“That might not be your intention - but he will feel singled out. He absolutely will.”

Regulus flinches again, as the headmaster simply gives a small nod of acknowledgement, without bothering to respond. Fabian releases a long breath, rubbing one hand across his forehead. 

“Alright, fine, so you need information from Bill. But can you at least let me be the one to talk to him? It’s not exactly the easiest conversation topic for him, and I want him to feel…I don’t know, comfortable. Safe. As much as possible in this shitty situation, anyway.” 

The headmaster pauses, considering Fabian for a moment over his half-moon spectacles, his bright blue gaze piercing. 

“Very well,” he says finally. “That seems perfectly reasonable.” 

“Just to clarify,” Fabian adds, “I mean that I want to speak to him, alone. I don’t need back-up on this, I know what I need to ask about. I’ll report back, obviously. But I will not have him feeling in any way pressured or intimidated.” 

He continues to maintain stern eye contact with the old man - but Regulus can’t quite shake the feeling that Fabian is doing that partially to avoid his gaze. He tries not to let that sting. Really. He tries. 

“Just as you wish, of course, Fabian,” Dumbledore replies smoothly, his face betraying not the slightest flicker of irritation at the younger man’s tone. “I trust you to handle this with the utmost care.” 

“Sirius suggested that we could use the Map, too,” Regulus pipes up awkwardly, finding himself suddenly desperate to break the silence - even if only to make his boyfriend look at him again. “To keep a closer eye on the kids, I mean. Like we did when the Chamber was open.” 

“The Map?” Narcissa and Andromeda ask simultaneously, looking bewildered again. Even Dumbledore raises an eyebrow slightly. 

“Long story,” Regulus mutters.

“Prongs, Moony and I made an enchanted map of the castle and the grounds when we were at school here,” Sirius explains, the slight tightening at the corner of his mouth and brief shadow that flickers momentarily behind his eyes the only signs that he’s erased Pettigrew from the narrative. “It’s fucking brilliant, if I do say so myself. And I do,” he adds, speaking so quickly that he barely seems to be drawing breath. “It shows every single person in the castle - where they are, what they’re doing, every minute of every day. We learnt a hell of a lot about the castle’s secret passageways when we were roaming the grounds after curfew as illegal Animagi, see. Well - Prongs and I are illegal Animagi. Moony’s just a werewolf.”

“Alright, apparently not that long a story,” Regulus amends, as Narcissa and Andromeda both goggle at Sirius. 

“That actually is a pretty great idea, Sirius,” Fabian says, finally grinning a little as he looks, to Regulus’s deep disappointment, at his brother instead of at him. “Well done.” 

“Oh, that’s nothing ,” Sirius says, his grin widening, looking thoroughly satisfied with himself. “Remember how I told you down in the hospital wing that I’d had the best idea ever , and you rather rudely told me it couldn’t be that good, but even Reg agreed that it was actually brilliant?”

Andromeda and Narcissa both look at Regulus in shock at that. 

“Wait… you actually admitted that Sirius’s idea was good?” Andromeda asks. 

Regulus grimaces. 

“It is a bloody good idea, unfortunately,” he says. “Absolutely insane, obviously. But…yeah. It’s kind of brilliant, too.” 

“We were just on our way up to tell Fab about it when we came across the Rosier kid,” Sirius adds. “That distracted us from our mission a bit, sadly.”  

“And what exactly does this ‘insane, but brilliant’ idea revolve around, pray tell?” Fabian asks curiously. 

“Well, it revolves around bringing our dear friend Voldemort down, once and for all,” Sirius replies. “Obviously.” 

His tone is bright and casual, as though he’s discussing a new drink on the Three Broomsticks menu, rather than a plan that might, potentially, destroy the man who has been terrorising wizarding Britain for almost fifteen years now. 

Everyone - except for Regulus, who has already heard the plan - stares at Sirius, their expressions ranging from curious to deeply cynical to hopeful. Sirius grins back at them, his grey eyes alight with mischief and excitement - it feels as though everyone else in the room is holding their breath. 

“Very well, Sirius,” Dumbledore says finally, leaning back in his chair a little, as though he’s settling in for a story, “I believe it is safe to say that you have our full attention.” 

And so, Sirius begins to talk. And talk. 

By the time he finishes, grinning broadly, practically buzzing with excitement, Fabian, Andromeda and Narcissa are all staring at him with thunderstruck expressions on their faces. As usual, Dumbledore’s expression has barely twitched; although Regulus can tell by the way his eyebrows are raised that he’s impressed. 

“Holy shit, Sirius,” Fabian finally breathes, breaking the stunned silence. 

“I know, right?” he crows gleefully. Regulus shoots his brother a deadpan look, but it’s half-hearted - he would probably be smug about it too, he supposes, if it had been his idea. 

“As ideas go, it is rather a remarkable one,” the headmaster comments lightly, in a tone that suggests he’s congratulating Sirius on handing in a well-researched Transfiguration assignment. “It is certainly not without its risks, however.” 

“Well,” Sirius replies, shrugging, “what’s life without a little risk?” 

“I’ll second that,” Fabian adds, still looking a little dazed as he grins at Sirius, who grins back at him. 

Regulus rolls his eyes, but he can feel a small, affectionate smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, desperate to break free. Damn it. 

“Very true,” Dumbledore concedes. “I should say that if you organise yourselves and plan this carefully, give yourselves enough time - Regulus, you may need to give your brother a brief refresher course in Occlumency, for instance - then you should be able to minimise the risks, even if you cannot eliminate them completely. And it seems to me that the potential rewards if this idea succeeds far outweigh those risks. But you will not be able to put this plan into action just yet, will you?” 

“We won’t?” Fabian asks, frowning. 

“Well, no,” Regulus pipes up, “we haven’t managed to destroy all the Horcruxes yet, have we? We don’t even know what all of them are, do we?” 

Sirius’s grin flickers and fades, as Dumbledore nods at Regulus, as though to confirm what he’d said. 

“Dumbledore told us the Dark Lord most likely made six, remember?” Regulus continues. “Thus splitting his soul into seven pieces. Because seven is the most powerfully magical number.” 

“Sorry - the bastard made six Horcruxes?!” Andromeda repeats, looking nauseated. Even Narcissa turns a shade paler. 

“Yep,” Regulus replies curtly. 

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have six any more,” Sirius argues. He holds up a hand, counting down on his fingers as he speaks. “Moony destroyed that creepy little diary, one. Reg got rid of that awful locket we found in that cave, two. And then Dumbledore stabbed the crap out of that cursed ring, three. After first putting it on , anyway. Hence why his hand looks so disgusting right now - no offence, Professor.” 

“None taken, I assure you,” the headmaster replies with a flicker of amusement, though he still shakes his long sleeve forward to cover said hand from view. 

“Wait…that’s why your hand looks like that?” Andromeda asks, staring down at it in horror. “Because you put a cursed Horcrux ring on ? But…Professor…surely that means…” 

“Luckily for us,” Dumbledore says, raising his voice a little, speaking over Andromeda as though he hadn’t heard her, “I very much doubt that Voldemort has yet managed to accomplish his final goal of six Horcruxes.” 

Regulus looks at him, stunned. 

“You see,” the old man continues placidly, “as I mentioned before, I believe having a Horcrux with a connection to each of the four houses would greatly appeal to his sense of pride and superiority - or, in the case of Slytherin artefacts, at least one Horcrux. As you said, Sirius, Remus and Regulus have already managed to destroy two of his Slytherin-connected Horcruxes between them, the diary and the locket. I imagine that he did succeed in finding Horcruxes connected to Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw - although the only artefact with a connection to Ravenclaw that I know of is Rowena’s lost diadem. Knowing Tom, I do not doubt he was resourceful enough to find it, if he was determined enough. As for a Gryffindor artefact, I do not believe he has managed to create that Horcrux yet - I am confident that the only object with a connection to Godric Gryffindor remains safe, here with me.” 

He points to a high shelf - they all turn to see Gryffindor’s ruby-encrusted sword resting in its glass case, the same one Regulus had watched Remus pull from the Sorting Hat down in the Chamber. 

“Tom knows the sword is in my possession, of course,” Dumbledore continues calmly. “I imagine he is hoping to seize hold of it, once Regulus has killed me.” Andromeda and Narcissa both turn to stare at him, wide-eyed. “And if Regulus’s information allows him to kill little Harry Potter, the boy prophesied to one day destroy him, the son of two of his fiercest Gryffindor enemies, then I suspect he may be intending to use Harry’s murder to turn the sword into his final Horcrux.” 

Regulus flinches sharply as both Sirius and Fabian’s faces drain of colour. 

“Regulus is never going to give them to Voldemort,” Sirius whispers, his voice croaky. “He’s never going to do that. That’s the whole bloody point of my plan - we’re gonna get to that bastard before he gets to them.” 

Dumbledore simply looks at him. 

“Well then,” he says quietly, “we had better make certain that we find and destroy the remaining Horcruxes, and do it fast.” 

“But if you say he’s only managed to make five Horcruxes so far,” Fabian pipes up, still looking rather sick, “and he hasn’t got a Gryffindor one yet…surely that means we’ve only got two left to find? Something of Hufflepuff’s, something of Ravenclaw’s?” 

“Well, you are forgetting one fact that is rather unfortunate for us, Fabian,” Dumbledore replies.

“Oh?” says Regulus, frowning.

“Tom is already aware that the diary was destroyed,” the headmaster clarifies, with a small sigh. “That was printed in the Prophet , thanks to some rather hastily chosen words from someone in this very room, remember?” Sirius blanches again - there’s no trace of his excited grin now. “It was that article, as we know, that led to poor Lucius’s murder.” Narcissa makes a small, quickly stifled sound. “And as I recall, Regulus reported to me, the very first time that Tom summoned him following Lucius’s death, that Tom seemed to have acquired a new, rather huge snake, which Regulus had never seen before.”

“Are you saying…?” Regulus whispers, his stomach suddenly twisting and writhing.

“It seems logical to me,” the headmaster continues calmly, “that, given it was Lucius’s blunder which caused him to lose one of his Horcruxes, Tom would have felt it perfectly apt that Lucius’s murder should be used to create a new Horcrux to replace the diary; hence the sudden acquisition of this new snake.” 

Narcissa cries out now, stumbling forward slightly - Andromeda reaches out, grasping her shoulder, her face a picture of pity. 

“I’m…alright…I…” Narcissa tries, despite the slow, heaving breaths she’s drawing, as though she’s choking, demonstrating how very not alright she is.

“I am truly sorry you had to hear this, Narcissa,” says Dumbledore, speaking to her in a much gentler voice than usual. “But I am sure that Tom would have wished to underline the Slytherin connection again, given that the destroyed diary had been proof that he was the Heir of Slytherin. It is inadvisable to make a living, moving, breathing creature into a Horcrux, of course - but then, Tom frequently does things which are inadvisable. So, in answer to your question, Fabian; unfortunately, despite the fact that Tom is almost certainly yet to reach his final goal of six, I am fairly certain that there are still three Horcruxes left to destroy before Sirius’s plan can be put into place, not two.” 

There’s a long, heavy silence, broken only Narcissa’s choked breathing as she desperately tries to get herself under control, and Andromeda’s quiet murmurings as she rubs soothing circles into her sister’s shoulder. 

“Shit,” Sirius mutters. 

“I second that,” Fabian says again, grimacing. 

“Hang on, let’s just think about this for a second,” Regulus protests. “Alright, yes, it sounds overwhelming - but this is still doable.” He’s not exactly used to taking on the role of the optimist - but someone has to, it seems. “So there are three Horcruxes left, somewhere out there. We have no idea what two of those actually are , but we’re almost certain that at least one of them is currently in Bellatrix’s possession, right? Whether it’s in her manor, or her Gringotts vault, we’re not sure, but -”

“But we can have that one covered,” Andromeda interjects, lifting her jaw slightly in defiant determination, her grey eyes flashing. Funny, Regulus muses, how both she and Sirius renounced the Black family years ago, and yet there are still some inherited habits and idiosyncrasies that neither of them have been able to entirely shake. “Well - Cissy can have it covered, anyway. Bella and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms.” 

Narcissa just nods, her jaw tightening. 

“Wait…” says Fabian, now frowning slightly at Andromeda - a concerned expression rather than an irritated one. “If you and Bellatrix haven’t spoken to each other in years…are you sure that part of your plan won’t fall apart, Sirius?”

“No, I don’t think it will,” Andromeda replies, before Sirius can say anything. “Don’t forget, I spent almost every day with my older sister, for almost seventeen years. ” She grimaces, as though disappointed in herself for wasting so much of her life. “Plus - I’m quite talented, if I do say so myself.” 

She gives Fabian a small, smug grin.

“Alright, so between these two,” Regulus continues, gesturing between his cousins, “we have the Horcrux - or possibly Horcruxes, if we’re lucky - in Bellatrix’s possession covered. And if Dumbledore’s right about the Dark Lord’s new snake being a replacement Horcrux for the diary - well, it’s no mystery where that one is being kept. The Dark Lord just keeps Nagini with him, at all times, from what I can tell.” 

“Indeed,” the headmaster agrees, “the whereabouts of that particular Horcrux are no mystery. Bear in mind, though, that given Tom keeps his beloved snake with him constantly, it would be rather impossible to kill it without alerting him to the fact that you are trying to destroy his Horcruxes.” 

Shit, Regulus thinks, feeling his optimism rapidly ebbing away as he stares at Dumbledore. 

“If we can get to Voldemort, we can get to the snake,” says Sirius determinedly. “And like I just explained, we can get to Voldy. If killing the snake is going to give the game away - well, we’ll just have to make it the last Horcrux on our list, I s’pose. I’m sure we can manage to integrate that into my plan, somehow. Or, y’know - we can just wing that part.” 

“ Wing that part,’ ” Regulus echoes scornfully. His older brother, being a very mature adult, flips him off, causing Regulus to roll his eyes. 

“Okay,” Fabian pipes up, casting a stern look at both of them. “So we know where at least two of the three remaining Horcruxes are - but, before we can put Sirius’s crazy-but-also-kind-of-brilliant plan into action, we probably need to destroy the other Horcrux, about which we know absolutely nothing, including its location and what it might look like?” 

“Yep, looks like that’s at the top of our to-do list right now,” Regulus agrees. 

“Oh, along with figuring out which teenage blonde maniac - or possibly innocent blonde teenager being psychically controlled in some way - is busy strangling and clawing kids at random, of course,” Sirius adds. “And preferably managing to stop them before they manage to actually kill anyone.” 

“Yes, that is rather an important task too,” the headmaster agrees solemnly.

“For fuck’s sake,” Fabian mutters, rubbing a hand across his forehead and heaving a weary sigh. 

7th September, 1983 - Hogsmeade 

“Bill said he had whole hours missing from his memory?” Regulus says faintly, staring at Fabian in horror. 

“Yep,” Fabian confirms, grimacing. His lovely face is creased with worry, clearly hating everything about this. “He said he would often have several hours where he couldn’t account for where he was or what he was doing at all. He found small bloodstains on his uniform a few hours after he’d daubed the message about the Chamber being open on the wall, couple of rooster feathers too - I suppose he must have washed most of it off while still in his trance - and he couldn’t think how those bloodstains had got there. He told me he used to get panic attacks in his dorm sometimes, trying to understand how he could be losing his memory; only he would try to have those panic attacks ‘quietly’, so the other boys in the dorm wouldn’t wake up and ask him what was wrong.” 

Fabian’s voice shakes and cracks, and Regulus aches to reach out for him, but he can’t help glancing warily at the chattering students passing them along the winding street. 

Sirius had left Hogwarts a few days ago, claiming that he needed to ‘check on’ everyone in Godric’s Hollow - though Regulus is fairly certain that had loosely translated to ‘I am deeply codependent and cannot function for longer than two weeks without seeing James Potter and Remus Lupin.’ His brother had promised to check in at Hogwarts again soon, to see if they were any further along in their search for either the missing Horcrux or the culprit behind the attacks. 

In the meantime, student supervision has increased tenfold, night and day; which is why Regulus finds himself walking along the outer edges of Hogsmeade now, the Marauders’ Map safely in his pocket, despite the fact that he would really rather be sitting quietly in the peace of his office, away from the hordes of students, on his weekend off. 

Fabian had volunteered to come on patrol with him, of course; Regulus supposes that, as a member of the Order, that’s actually a more valid explanation for Fabian’s presence on the castle grounds than ‘I’m dating Professor Black.’ He’s fully aware that the increased supervision of students is a necessity right now; nevertheless, it does make it rather more difficult to find time for private conversations. 

“Bill was terrified that if he tried to explain that he couldn’t remember, the boys in his dorm would all think he was insane,” Fabian continues, his voice practically a whisper now. “By the time he thought to suspect the diary, it was too late. He didn’t have any power left. But then -” he lets out a hoarse, strangled sound, something caught between a laugh and a sob - “what eleven-year-old would think to be suspicious of a diary? ” 

Regulus feels something aching deep inside him at the look on the other man’s face. He looks so tired, so shattered, so unlike himself. 

“You okay?” he asks quietly. Immediately, he winces at the stupidity, the sheer inadequacy of the words. 

“Me? I’m just fucking peachy, Reg, why do you ask?” Fabian retorts, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Regulus grimaces. Yeah, he deserved that. 

Seeing his reaction, the taller man’s expression softens almost immediately.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, his tone completely earnest now. “That was uncalled for, wasn’t it?” 

Regulus shakes his head, reaching out as subtly as he can to brush his fingers against Fabian’s, a small, reassuring touch. 

“Nah, it wasn’t,” he replies softly. “Think it was entirely called for, actually. What is it that people say? Something about ‘ask a stupid question…?’” 

A tiny grin flickers at the corner of the other man’s mouth, there and gone so quickly that Regulus just barely manages to catch a glimpse; but even just that tiny hint of the Fabian he knows and loves makes his chest swell momentarily with warmth and relief, so that he can’t help giving his boyfriend a tiny, tentative smile in return. 

“Anyway,” he continues, “if anyone should be apologising, it should be me.”

“What?” Fabian asks, now frowning at him in bewilderment. “How do you work that one out?” 

“I mean, I’m sorry if I made you feel pressured into talking to your nephew about this shit,” he clarifies, lowering his voice a little as a gaggle of fourth-year girls walk past them, despite the fact that they’re chattering and laughing loudly and unlikely to even be interested in eavesdropping on their conversation. “I know you didn’t want him to have to dredge it all up again. For obvious reasons. I shouldn’t…” He stops, grimacing at himself again. “I shouldn’t have been so quick to agree with the old man.” 

Fabian raises one eyebrow. 

“Well, they say there’s a first time for everything, right?” he quips, causing Regulus to roll his eyes. The amusement quickly falls away from the taller man’s face; he hesitates, clearly making an effort to choose his words carefully. 

“I’m not angry at you about that, Reg. I mean, alright” - he sighs, rubbing a hand across his forehead - “maybe I was, a little bit, because it seemed like you weren’t thinking about what Bill needed.” Regulus winces. “But I know it’s not that you just…don’t care about Bill, or didn’t even bother to think about him,” Fabian continues, his voice softening again. “You don’t want to cause him pain, of course you don’t - you’re just trying to make sure you use every resource available to prevent anyone else from getting hurt in the same way he was hurt.” 

Regulus opens his mouth - and then closes it again, frowning slightly. It’s just cold strategy, it’s the way he thinks. It shouldn’t be possible for Fabian to make him feel like he’s done anything heroic, done anything to be proud of. And yet…

“And Bill agreed, by the way.”

“Agreed?” Regulus echoes, bewildered. 

“I told him I knew it was difficult, and it still hurt, and he didn’t have to tell me if it would be too much - but I also told him what you’d said, that there might be a chance he could help us figure out what’s going on right now and stop anyone else from being hurt like he was,” Fabian clarifies. “And I think that was what persuaded him, in the end. He was bloody nervous to talk about it - scared of the memories, scared of what I might think of him - but if there was any chance he might be able to stop other kids from hurting, he was always going to take it. He’s like that with his little brothers and Gin, too, always trying to take care of them. Heart of gold, that kid.” 

“Oh,” Regulus says quietly, mind turning unbidden to his own older brother, who had always been so quick to jump between him and their mother, always ready to redirect her rage away from Regulus by using himself as a human shield. 

“Then again, maybe Bill just agreed because he knows I’m in love with you,” Fabian muses, the soft look in his bright eyes belying the teasing grin on his face. “Kid thinks I’m the coolest person in the whole damn world, so he probably just assumes anyone I love must be pretty cool too.” 

“I…shut up,” Regulus stutters incoherently, feeling his heart stumble against his ribs in its haste to get to the other man - as though it doesn’t already belong to him - as his cheeks, predictably, flood with heat. 

Fabian only grins wider at that, laughing as Regulus tries - and fails - to look annoyed.

“Or what?” he challenges. 

“Or I’ll…I’ll…” 

Coming up short, his cheeks still flaming, Regulus continues to glare up at his boyfriend. It does not have the desired effect at all; the taller man only laughs again.

“Yeah, I thought as much.” 

Regulus just huffs. After a moment or two, he chances a glance up at the other man; his boyfriend is still chuckling to himself, looking more than a little bit smug as he looks down at him - but there’s something else in his expression. Something so soft that it makes Regulus’s heart stutter against his ribs again. Hastily, he breaks eye contact.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mutters. 

“Stop looking at you like what?” the taller man asks, raising one eyebrow.

“Like that ,” Regulus hisses, gesturing towards him with one hand. 

“Why should I?” Fabian asks stubbornly. Regulus doesn’t have to look at his boyfriend to know that he’s grinning again. 

“Because,” he replies in an undertone, through gritted teeth, “we are in Hogsmeade, in broad daylight, surrounded by my teenage students, that’s why.”

“Embarrassed to be seen with a school security guard, Reg?” 

“Firstly, don’t put yourself down,” Regulus replies, tutting slightly, “you know you’re not just a ‘security guard.’ And secondly, no, I’m not ‘embarrassed to be seen with you’, you idiot. I just don’t trust myself not to jump on you in public, if you keep looking at me like that. And I know I’m not particularly good at being professional - but I’m fairly certain that the Potions professor attempting to climb his boyfriend in the middle of Hogsmeade is one of those things that comes under the ‘unprofessional’ list. Ergo, stop looking at me like that, please.” 

He hears Fabian’s breath hitch at that; sneaking a glance up at him, he sees that the other man’s expression is rather dazed and flustered now, a rosy blush spreading across his freckled cheeks, every hint of smugness vanished in an instant. Regulus looks away again quickly, pulse fluttering like a trapped bird; that look isn’t exactly helping him with the whole ‘professional’ goal. 

“Right,” Fabian says, his voice coming out slightly hoarse. He clears his throat and tries again. “Okay, fine. I’ll stop looking at you.” 

Chancing another glance up, he sees that his boyfriend is indeed looking determinedly ahead now, trying and failing to keep his face neutral, despite the very visible blush on his cheeks. Regulus looks away again, unable to stop himself from smirking slightly. Score: one-all. 

“Seriously, though,” he murmurs as they turn the corner, his pulse finally starting to settle down again, “thank you. For talking to Bill, I mean. I know how hard that must have - well, no, alright, I don’t know, but I can imagine . So…thanks.” 

He pauses, waiting for a response. He doesn’t get one.

“Fab?” he asks uncertainly, frowning as he looks up at him. 

It seems his boyfriend has certainly taken the whole ‘stop looking at me’ thing to heart; in fact, Fabian doesn’t even appear to be listening to him any more. Instead, he appears to be staring at something, his blush from before completely vanished, concern and alarm suddenly etched across his beautiful freckled face. Immediately, Regulus feels his heart jump into his throat. 

“Fab, what…?” he starts, following the other man’s gaze. “...Oh.” 

There’s a girl. She’s not unconscious or anything - thank Merlin - but she’s standing there, completely by herself, clutching at the fence behind her for support. They’re too far away to hear her properly, but from what Regulus can tell, she seems to be bent over slightly, apparently on the brink of hyperventilating. Everything about her makes it clear that this girl is absolutely terrified. 

“Should we…? Never mind,” Regulus mutters, Fabian having, predictably, already started striding over towards the distressed girl before he’d even finished his question. 

Heaving a sigh, Regulus sets off after his boyfriend, moving at a slight jog to try and keep up with him, muttering to himself about why he always has to have a thing for the knights in shining bloody armour. 

“Hey,” Fabian says quietly, crouching down slightly so that he doesn’t tower over her, while still keeping a respectful distance away from the girl to ensure he doesn’t accidentally frighten her any more. He gives her a small, kind smile. “It’s Rosie, right?” 

The girl - who’s wearing a Hufflepuff scarf, Regulus realises now that they’re standing closer - looks up at Fabian, hiccuping slightly in surprise at his sudden appearance. She just blinks for a moment, clearly taken aback, before nodding, her dark brown bangs falling forward over her tearstained face. 

“Y…yeah,” she stutters. “Yeah, I’m Rosie. Rosie Macmillan.” 

Regulus takes a silent moment to wonder, again, how the hell his boyfriend manages to know all these kids’ names, when he doesn’t even bloody teach here. 

“Hi, Rosie,” Fabian continues, still smiling gently at her. “I’m Fabian.” 

“Yeah, I know,” the girl says immediately. Apparently, she hadn’t meant to say that quite so fast, because her cheeks go slightly pink, despite the fact that she’s still crying a little, her eyes widening as she darts another quick glance at him before swiftly looking away. 

Regulus can’t help but be a little amused at that, despite everything. He remembers her more clearly now; Rosie Macmillan is in his fifth-year class with the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. He’s noticed the way a lot of the girls in fifth and sixth year look at Fabian as he walks past them, though he’s not entirely sure whether Fabian has. He can’t really blame them, honestly. 

“Right,” Fabian replies, still smiling at the teenage girl warmly, apparently oblivious to how he’s affecting the poor girl’s already hyperactive heart rate. “Well, Professor Black and I couldn’t help but notice that you don’t seem to be having a great day over here,” the redhead continues quietly. “I was just wondering if you’d be okay to tell us what happened? Anything either of us might be able to help with?” 

The Macmillan girl blinks rapidly and sucks in a sharp gasp, still trying to get her breathing under control. She’s clearly suffered quite the shock. 

“I was just…I was just standing here alone, looking at the Shack,” she says finally, gesturing with her hand at the view on the other side of the fence. Regulus blinks; preoccupied with her evident distress, he hadn’t even registered that she was standing at one of the best viewing spots for the decrepit old house built to contain Remus in his monthly torment as a teenager. “And…and…”

She raises her hand to her mouth to muffle a sob.

“It’s alright,” Fabian murmurs gently. “You’re safe now, Rosie. You’re safe with us.”

Regulus tries his best not to pull a sceptical face behind his boyfriend’s back. It might be a lie - or a half-truth, at best - but at least it’s a reassuring one. 

“And out of nowhere, I suddenly felt someone’s hands,” she whispers. “Someone came up behind me, barely making a sound, and put their hands around my neck. Their hands were cold.”

She trembles, as though feeling the sensation all over again, before darting another glance up at them. Her expression is nervous, as though she thinks they might think she’s lying, or question her sanity. 

“Go on,” Regulus says quietly, holding his breath. Macmillan nods, releasing a shaky breath. 

“And I remembered suddenly that there are two kids lying unconscious in the hospital wing right now, with fingerprints around their throats, and I just thought… holy shit , y’know?”

Both men nod, which Rosie seems to take as permission to continue with her story. 

“For a moment it was like my whole body kind of seized up in terror, because I thought maybe I was going to end up as the next kid unconscious - or maybe worse,” she says, another sob escaping her. She takes a slow, deep breath, trying to regain control of herself, though Regulus can see that she’s still trembling. “And people talk about the whole ‘fight or flight’ thing, and I always figured that was just bullshit - but I guess not,” she says, with a shaky, slightly hysterical laugh. “Because it’s not like I made a conscious decision , or anything, but next thing I knew, I was turning around, and I fully just whacked this person across the face, harder than I even knew I was capable of, and without even knowing who the hell it was.” 

Regulus lets out a startled laugh before he can stop himself. Whatever he’d been expecting this kid to say, it wasn’t that. Rosie looks up at him in surprise, as though she’d almost forgotten he was there. Fabian glares at him. 

“I - sorry,” he mutters, realising too late that laughter is not an appropriate response to trauma. Not in this case, at least. Even if his older brother had always told him it was the best response. 

“Sorry, ignore Professor Black,” Fabian says, narrowing his eyes at him before turning back to the girl. “So, you hit this person across the face - which you were entirely within your rights to do, by the way. Presumably they took their hands off your neck at that point?”

“Yeah,” Rosie replies, blinking rapidly to hold back fresh tears as she raises a trembling hand to brush against her neck, as though checking it’s still in one piece. Regulus can only see a slight red mark, evidence that she’d managed to throw the attacker off pretty quickly. “I had just assumed it was a boy sneaking up on me, because…” 

Regulus feels a sick, twisting feeling in the pit of his stomach; judging by the look on his boyfriend’s face, he feels something pretty similar. A pretty teenage girl, standing by herself…yeah, neither of them need her to finish that sentence. 

“But it wasn’t a boy?” Fabian prompts her gently. 

She shakes her head.

“No. No, it was a girl.” 

“Not a tall girl with blonde curly hair, by any chance?” Regulus asks, before he can stop himself.

Fabian sighs in exasperation, as Macmillan stares up at him, her mouth open. 

“She did have blonde hair, actually,” she replies, sounding faintly stunned. “It was curly, and pretty long, too, it sort of -”

“Cascaded down her back?” Regulus suggests.

She blinks at him, looking almost unnerved by his clairvoyance now. 

“Well…yeah,” she says. “How did you -?”

“Let’s call it a lucky guess,” he mutters. 

She stares at him for another moment, then seems to shake herself.

“Yeah - tall, long blonde curls that cascaded down her back,” she summarises. She pauses for a moment, apparently thinking. “Pretty sure she’s in Ravenclaw…sixth year, I think?” 

That makes Regulus pay attention.

“Wait…you know who she is?!” 

Macmillan pauses again, as though that question requires some thought, before shaking her head slowly. 

“I mean, I sort of recognised her by sight? I’ve seen her around a few times. I don’t actually remember her name, though. I know a lot of people felt sorry for her last year, because of what happened with her boyfriend? Maybe they’d feel a bit less sorry for her, if they knew the bitch wanders around putting her hands around people’s throats.” 

Regulus fights down the impulse to swear aloud - for Salazar’s sake, they’re so close. He has no idea what drama or student gossip Macmillan is talking about with the mystery blonde girl’s boyfriend - and frankly, he doesn’t have the time or energy to care. 

“That’s okay,” Fabian reassures her. “There’s a hell of a lot of students in this castle, after all, we’re not expecting you to know all their names. Especially not when you’re in a situation like that.” That’s…fair, Regulus supposes. “So what happened after you hit this girl in the face?” Fabian continues. 

Rosie Macmillan sucks in another shaky breath.

“Well, I said, ‘what the hell is wrong with you?’ I mean, I sort of screamed it at her, to be honest. I was still in shock. But…the weird thing was, it almost seemed like she was in shock, too. I don’t know if that was because I hit her, or because I screamed at her, or what, but…her hand was covering her cheek where I had clocked her, I could see it was bright red. And she blinked, and looked at me in this really weird way…kind of the disorientated way someone looks when you wake them up from a really deep sleep, you know?” 

“Yeah,” both men respond automatically. Rosie nods. 

“Anyway, she still hadn’t answered me, so I sort of screamed at her again, I went, ‘what the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ And she sort of blinked at me again, and she almost looked frightened of me. And then she asked me, ‘what did I do?’ She sort of whispered it. I kind of just stared at her for a second - I didn’t know if she was trying to play stupid, or what the hell she was doing. So I was like ‘You just tried to fucking strangle me, that’s what you did , you bitch! ’ 

She looked absolutely horrified at that, as though she hadn’t just bloody done it. She sort of…stumbled back a little, as if I’d just whacked her again. I was kind of hyperventilating and crying by this point, because I was scared and I didn’t know what in Merlin’s name was going on. And while I was crying, she just kept looking at me like I’d stabbed her, or something, and she kept slowly backing away from me - and then, before I knew it, she turned around and legged it away.”

“Just like that?” Fabian asks, sounding startled. Rosie nods.

“Yeah, she -” 

“Which way?” Regulus interjects.

She stops, frowning at him slightly.

“What?” 

“Which way was she running?” he repeats, his voice sharper than he intends, already fumbling in the pocket of his cloak for the Map that his annoyingly brilliant brother had made with his annoyingly brilliant friends. 

“Oh…um…” Macmillan raises a still-shaking hand and points. “She was going in the direction of the Three Broomsticks, I think?” 

He only just manages not to groan - of course she had to head for the single most crowded place in the whole village. This girl sure knows how to strategically slip through the cracks, he’ll give her that. 

“I solemnly swear I’m up to no good,” he mutters, tapping his wand against the blank parchment, which instantly springs into life. 

“What?” Macmillan asks, sounding bewildered now; Regulus ignores her, watching as hundreds of ink lines and names blossom out from the centre of the map to the four corners, the entire castle and grounds of Hogwarts taking form within seconds. He scans the map impatiently, then - 

“ Oh, for fuck’s sake!” he complains loudly. 

“What?” Fabian asks, frowning as he straightens up. 

“It’s not even on here!” He brandishes the map at his boyfriend; frowning, Fabian comes over, holding one corner so he can see. “They’ve included every single secret passage inside the castle, all the ways to smuggle food from the kitchens to the Gryffindor dorms; they’ve got all the hidden routes to the Forbidden Forest covered - but the map bloody cuts off at Honeydukes, see!” He jabs a finger at said map, as though Fabian might somehow be confused. “They’ve shown the Whomping Willow on the grounds, but the passage behind it cuts off because the Shack isn’t on the map! Brilliant , Sirius!” he snarls, fully aware that his brother is not here and he sounds insane right now. “What a wonderfully useful way to see what everyone who happens to be inside Hogwarts or on the castle grounds might be up to at any given time - except what if I want to see what someone is doing in Hogsmeade , huh? Given that you and your genius friends apparently decided it would be a waste of time to include the village in your flawless map, I guess that will just have to be a mystery for the ages, won’t it?!” 

“Alright,” Fabian interjects, taking the map from his grasp as he waves it around furiously, “let’s calm down a bit, shall we?” 

“Wait….did you just say there’s a secret passage that leads from the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack?” Rosie asks, eyes widening as she looks over at the shack again. 

“Yes,” Regulus snaps at her, “only it’s just the Shack these days, there’s no shrieking because Professor Lupin doesn’t turn into a werewolf there any more. And don’t bother trying to get past the Willow, unless you’re an illegal Animagus like my brother and his friends - though god knows how they ever managed that, given they’re clearly all colossal idiots. ” 

“Oh,” she says in a small voice, as though she’s just been given too much information at once. Some tiny, rational part of Regulus’s brain supposes that might be fair. 

“Alright,” Fabian says firmly, gripping Regulus’s arm with his free hand, “we’re going to stop snapping at the student who has done absolutely nothing to deserve it, and has actually given us very useful information, even though she was in a state of shock.” 

“I…” Regulus deflates, shame and embarrassment finally catching up with him. “Sorry, Macmillan,” he mutters awkwardly. “And, uh…thanks. For telling us what happened.” 

“Um…that’s okay?” She looks more bewildered than offended. Which is also fair. 

“Sorry about him, Rosie,” Fabian says, shaking his head. Normally Regulus would be indignant, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have a leg to stand on right now. “And I’m sorry about what happened to you, too.”

“Thanks,” she whispers, suddenly looking and sounding exhausted. 

“We can take you up to the hospital wing, if you like?” he suggests. 

“I’m not hurt?” she replies, frowning at him.

“Not physically, maybe,” he answers, smiling kindly at her again. “But you’re in shock - and you’ve got a bloody right to be, honestly. And I happen to know Madam Pomfrey has some pretty good remedies for shock, hot chocolate not least among them. My nephew certainly gave her some pretty good reviews last year.” 

She stares at him, looking uncertain. 

“You can have a look at the Map while we go up, if you like,” he adds, grinning at her as he proffers the parchment he’d just confiscated from Regulus. “It’s not flawless, apparently - but still, it’s pretty damn cool. Especially if you feel peckish past midnight and you’re looking for a way past Filch to the kitchens.” 

“What?” she says, giggling a little now as he passes her the map. 

“I’m not a teacher,” Fabian says, shrugging. “So I’m not breaking any rules by telling you that. Plus, I broke a rule or two myself when I was a student here, y’know.” 

He gives her an exaggerated wink, causing Rosie to giggle again and blush. Regulus narrows his eyes at his boyfriend, who looks back at him, the picture of innocence. Okay, so maybe Fabian isn’t quite as oblivious as he’d thought. 

“Oh, stop sulking, Reg,” the freckled man mutters in an undertone, Rosie now thoroughly absorbed in the Map. “We know this girl is in sixth year now, and a Ravenclaw. That’s a lot more than we had before. And we can keep an eye out for her while we take Rosie here up to Pomfrey, anyway.” 

“Right,” Regulus mutters sarcastically, “because there’s not a lot of blonde girls around, or anything.” 

“Oh, there might be a lot of blonde girls,” Fabian answers, grinning. “But I doubt there’s all that many Ravenclaw blonde girls showing signs of having suffered from a recent right hook. And a pretty powerful one, from the sounds of it.” 

Still buried in the map, Rosie Macmillan grins despite herself.

Six Hours Later 

“Emily Davies?” 

 Regulus screws up his face, thinking for a moment, then shakes his head.

“Brunette, I’m pretty sure.” 

“Jasmine Bade-Boon?” 

“Brunette again.” 

“Amelia Mellor?” 

“Oh, I think she’s blonde! Actually…” He chews his lower lip, thinking. “Think her hair is straight, though. Still…she’s blonde, so that’s a maybe, right?” 

Regulus leans over a little, his free hand still in Fabian’s hair as he jots down Amelia Mellor (?) in his notebook.

As it turned out, they did not see any sign of a girl who looked like she’d been recently hit in the face, Ravenclaw, blonde or otherwise. Which makes sense, Regulus supposes; he wouldn’t exactly want to hang around in Hogsmeade waiting to be gawked at, if he had a giant red mark on his face. Especially if he’d been as disorientated as Macmillan had made this mystery girl sound. 

Of course, they could just wait until the reliable Hogwarts rumour mill starts tomorrow, once everyone has seen the mark on this girl’s face and learnt that she was whacked by Rosie Macmillan, who was then escorted to the hospital wing…though of course, this mystery girl is presumably perfectly capable of using makeup or magic or a combination of both to cover the bruise to ensure she isn’t asked awkward questions. Or maybe, once Macmillan is out of the hospital wing, they could see if she might be able to identify the right girl in a lineup…? But that doesn’t seem like the most practical plan either. 

So it seems like this is the best they can do, for now, here on the sofa in the peace and quiet of Regulus’s office. Fabian is lying with his head in Regulus’s lap, holding the Marauders’ Map up so they can both see it clearly and reading out the names of girls scattered around the Ravenclaw common room and dorms. (It had taken a while to persuade an entranced Rosie Macmillan to give the Map back when they got her to the hospital wing, but Fabian had eventually managed it with a mischievous grin and a promise to bring it back, along with chocolate, when they next came to check on her, ignoring Regulus’s scowl). Regulus, meanwhile, is writing down the names of potential culprits, his free hand absentmindedly stroking through his boyfriend’s curls. 

Scouring the Ravenclaw common room and dorms for teenage girls like this does, admittedly, feel slightly on the creepy side, but as far as Regulus can make out, this is the best they can do for now. At least they’re narrowing down the pool of suspects, he supposes. 

“Veronica Sawyer?” 

“Brunette.”

“Juliette Moore?” 

“Brunette.” 

“Wait, is she the giggly, flirty one?”

“How the hell should I know?” Regulus answers grumpily. “They’re all giggly and flirty when they talk to you, aren’t they?” 

Fabian tilts his head back a little, so that he’s grinning at Regulus upside down. 

“Bothers you, that, does it?” 

Regulus scowls. 

“Just read me the damn names, will you, Prewett? We’re trying to solve a case right now, we’re not here to inflate your ego.” 

“Sorry, Professor, I’ll get back to work,” Fabian replies, smirking as he settles back into a more comfortable position. Regulus pinches him near his hip bone.

“ Ow! Merlin, you’re aggressive when you’re jealous!” He raises his hand again threateningly, fixing the freckled man with a warning look. “Okay, okay!” Fabian exclaims, hastily looking back at the Map. “How about Annie Shirley?” 

“I think she’s blonde?” Regulus replies, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to picture her. 

“Wait…no she’s not,” Fabian corrects him suddenly. 

“She’s not?” Regulus asks, startled, having already started reaching for his pen to write her name down. 

“Nah….she’s the one who’s always got her hair in two plaits, right? Lots of freckles? Always mouthing off to the teachers? Yeah, she’s definitely a redhead. I remember now - she’s the one who reminds me a little bit of Lily.” 

“Oh,” Regulus says, blinking. “Right. Yeah. Redhead. Like you.” 

“Sure, like me,” the other man agrees, with a quiet little laugh that Regulus wishes he could bottle and keep forever. 

He falls silent for a few moments, lost in thought, staring down at the single red curl he’s absentmindedly twisting around his finger, yet not really seeing it. 

“Reg?” Fabian asks finally, when he’s gone quiet for too long. 

When Regulus doesn’t respond, his boyfriend lets out a small sigh, placing the Marauders Map aside on the coffee table next to the sofa, turning over onto his stomach and propping himself up on his elbows so he can look at him properly. 

Gently, he takes Regulus’s hand in both of his, effectively forcing him to focus.

“Hey,” he says softly, his expression earnest, every trace of teasing vanished. His voice is quiet, warm. His tone welcomes Regulus home. Asks him where he’s been. “What is it, love? What’s wrong?” 

Regulus sighs, not quite sure where to start. 

“What that Macmillan girl told us today, about the blonde girl’s reaction after she hit her…that definitely made it sound like this girl doesn’t know what she’s doing, right? Like she’s not under her own control right now.” 

“Yeah,” Fabian answers, his voice full of the sadness and anger that Regulus feels, but never seems to be able to express quite right.

“Unless she’s just a ridiculously talented actress, of course,” he murmurs. “But that doesn’t seem right.” 

“No,” Fabian agrees, “it doesn’t.” 

Regulus had sort of been hoping his boyfriend might disagree, tell him the girl was likely just a very good liar. It seems less upsetting that way, somehow. Anger is always easier to deal with than guilt, guilt at the sensation of failing someone. 

“So then….this girl, whoever she is….she’s probably hurting right now. She’s probably scared. Like Bill was.” 

Fabian’s jaw tightens, a momentary shadow flickering behind those bright eyes. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, “she probably is.” 

Regulus draws in a shaky breath, trying to contain his fear, the desperate feeling of helplessness, the rage at whoever is really behind all this, before it all overflows, scalding the beautiful man who always tries so hard to keep him tethered. To keep him from drowning. 

“But that’s what we’re doing now, Reg,” Fabian continues quietly. “We’re doing our best to help. Once we figure out who she is, we can save anyone else from getting hurt, and we’ll do our damndest to save her , too.” 

He sees how the other man’s jaw is set, the fierce determination in his bright eyes, and he realises, in that moment, that Fabian means it with every fibre of his being - he needs to save this girl, just as desperately as Regulus needs it. Fabian thinks he needs to save her, because he’ll never make up for not knowing that Bill needed saving. 

“But what if our best just…isn’t enough?” Regulus whispers, unable to stop himself from voicing his fear. “I mean, I’m sitting here struggling to remember what colour hair my students have, which one is which, because I never pay enough bloody attention to them until they become important witnesses or suspects, because I’m not kind or generous like Remus, like you. And yeah, Macmillan told us this blonde girl was in sixth year, in Ravenclaw; but she admitted herself that she couldn’t remember the girl’s name, so who’s to say she got her year level or her House right? Hell, why don’t we just keep combing through all the blonde girls in Gryffindor and Hufflepuff again, just to be on the safe side?” he asks, with a slightly hysterical laugh. “Why don’t we -?”

He’s cut off by the sudden warm, familiar press of Fabian’s lips against his. 

He sinks into the comforting sensation without conscious thought, both hands automatically sliding into the other man’s soft curls, as Fabian’s gentle, calloused hands slide up his neck, coming to rest on either side of his face. The deafening, overwhelming babble of maybes and buts and what ifs in Regulus’s head immediately fades into a barely audible background murmur, like a badly tuned radio, just as it had done the very first time Fabian had ever kissed him. 

Nothing else has ever worked to drown out the noise like that - and Regulus has tried a lot of things. He still has no clue how his boyfriend does that. He must just have some kind of magic that nobody else does.

“What was that for?” he whispers, when Fabian breaks away. 

“Well,” Fabian murmurs, “partially because I could see you were spiralling. But mostly just because…I love you.” He leans forwards again slightly, brushing their noses together. “I love you so damn much , Regulus Black. And you remind me of that, almost every single time you open your mouth.” 

“Oh,” Regulus chokes out, feeling ridiculously close to tears all of a sudden. Maybe it’s just the stress. Yeah, he’ll blame it on the stress. 

“And I promise you,” Fabian continues, leaning back again, voice a little louder now, “we will find her, Reg. We will. Even if we have to comb every inch of this bloody castle. I mean, there’s only so many places she could -” 

A timid knock at Regulus’s office door interrupts his sentence. 

“...be,” Fabian finishes, disentangling himself (Regulus only just manages not to whine), sitting up, and leaning over to grab the Marauders Map from the coffee table. Regulus reluctantly pushes himself upright, too, looking over his boyfriend’s shoulder, wondering who the hell would come calling unannounced so late. 

They’d both been so focused on the Ravenclaw common room before, neither of them had noticed anyone making their way in the direction of this office. But sure enough, there’s a tiny little ink name, very close to the names Fabian Prewett and Regulus Black , hovering patiently in the corridor outside, waiting to be let in, despite the fact that it must be well past midnight by now. Meggie Brown , the Map announces silently. 

“Shit,” Fabian mutters, brow creased as he looks down at the tiny ink name, before glancing towards the door. The person on the other side - Meggie Brown, apparently - knocks once again, apparently unfazed by the lateness of the hour. “You think there’s been another attack?” 

“Dunno,” Regulus replies, still staring down at the map. That name shifts something buried deep in his memory - but he can’t think why. “Meggie Brown,” he says slowly. “Why does that name sound so familiar?” 

“I don’t know,” Fabian answers, frowning back at him, “probably because she’s one of your students? Presumably?” 

“Yeah, but…” Regulus gets up from the sofa, heading for the door without bothering to finish his sentence. 

“Is she a Ravenclaw?” Fabian asks, standing up and following in his wake.

Regulus pauses for a moment. “I think so?” he answers uncertainly, still trying to connect the name to a face, figure out why it’s ringing such a bell. “Hang on, I’ll be able to tell you in a minute -” 

He opens the door, and the girl standing outside his office jumps back in surprise slightly, as though she hadn’t actually expected him to answer her knock.

Meggie Brown is dressed in her pyjamas and slippers, a blue woollen dressing gown wrapped tightly around her to stop her from shivering. The dressing gown is embroidered with a bronze eagle - that answers the Ravenclaw question then, he supposes. As Regulus looks up to meet her gaze, she looks back at him, bright green eyes frightened - and finally, Regulus remembers. 

Because he’s seen those same big green eyes before - he’s seen them wide and glassy. He’s seen this girl lying completely frozen on the ground, her limbs stiff and rigid. Meggie Brown - the Muggleborn Ravenclaw girl that he and Remus had stumbled upon outside the library, having been spared death only by the fortuitous presence of Nearly Headless Nick in front of her. Regulus remembers, suddenly, what Remus had said to him when they had found Alfie Thomas a few weeks later, who had not been quite so fortunate. Meggie had still been in the hospital wing, completely oblivious to the world around her. 

“How are we going to break the news to Meggie Brown? They’re dating, Reg. Those two were head over heels for each other.” 

He remembers what the Macmillan girl had told them, only a few hours ago. 

“I know a lot of people felt sorry for her last year, because of what happened with her boyfriend.” 

Oh. 

“Professor Black,” says Meggie Brown, finally breaking the silence, her voice a little deeper and more confident than Regulus had expected, though it still trembles a little. “Fabian,” she adds, nodding awkwardly when she spots him hovering in the doorframe behind Regulus. Regulus just continues to stare at her, lost for words for a moment.

“Look, I…I know it’s really late, and you’re probably technically supposed to give me about ten detentions right now, or something,” Meggie continues, with a small laugh. She shifts her weight from foot to foot, tucking her curls nervously behind one ear, an unconscious gesture - long, blonde curls that gleam slightly in the torchlight. With her hair out of her face, it’s possible to make out, even in the dim light, an angry red mark on her cheek. 

Oh. 

“Just…see, the thing is…” She hesitates, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I think I might need help.” She stops and shakes her head. “No, I know I need help. I really need help.” 

Her voice cracks - she struggles for a moment to catch it, as though if she lets it fall, she might crack and crumble too. Regulus isn’t sure he’s ever heard a more desperate sound. 

“So…yeah,” she says, with a brave attempt at a smile. “Think there’s any chance I could come in and talk?”