How they’d made it just in time, Regulus would never know. But he thanked his lucky stars all the same, sighing a relief as they quickly dissolved into the fray of dancers, blending in easily. It had taken some time, and a short detour, but they had made it. He was finally dancing with Narcissa, his smile bigger than ever. It was shaping up to be quite the night. Too bad they couldn’t dance forever.
Leaving her side was difficult, but when Narcissa insisted, Regulus had to obey. Even with the masks still in place, he gave her one last, longing look before he reluctantly pulled his eyes away and threaded his way across the room. There and back, shouldn’t take but a couple minutes. Taking a sip of the first glass he picked up, he decided it wasn’t sweet enough for her, then he looked back on instinct, and frowned. She wasn’t there.
The smallest jab of panic fluttered in his stomach, but surely she wasn’t far. There were many people mingling about, and Narcissa would try to avoid someone she didn’t particularly want to socialize with. Or perhaps she found a couple of chairs for them to relax a few songs. Trying another drink and deeming it an acceptable offer, Regulus grabbed another untouched glass and began his way back to where he’d left her. But as he got nearer, his frown only deepened. Narcissa wasn’t in the vicinity, and all chairs were occupied with people that were not her. The panic began to creep in faster.
Draining one of the drinks, Regulus placed the empty and the still full one on the first hard surface he found, his eyes scanning all round him. He couldn’t have possibly lost her. The loo? Perhaps. Still trying to keep the panic from reaching full on attack, he left the ballroom and headed towards the halls, looking for a bathroom. The house was big, but the people lingering here and there made it easier to find with only a couple questioned guests. But still, no Narcissa. He could feel the blood pumping in his ears, the panic tightening in his chest. How could she have just … disappeared?
Looking up from the wall he’d leaned against to gather himself, he saw what looked like a porch, and perhaps a few party goers milling about. Could she have stepped out for some fresh air? Out of other ideas, Regulus crossed the small room and made his way outside, looking around hopefully. But still no sign of pink. The worry was becoming frightfully real as a new realization set in. Could his uncle have found her after all? His stomach dropped and he staggered into the porch railing, but he quickly shook his head. There was no way Uncle Cygnus could know what Regulus and Narcissa did with each other. But the way Kreacher made it seem, like he was on the war path to her room…Regulus needed to find Narcissa now.
Walking further around the porch, the music grew softer, allowing Regulus to listen more easily. And that’s when he heard it. The soft thud, like something had fallen, and the deep, hurried voice. He couldn’t make out the words, but he understood the tone. Someone was vexed. He felt a tinge of sympathy for whomever was on the receiving end of it. Inching closer, the voice slowly became more recognizable, and Regulus stilled, hidden in the shadows as he looked on in horror.
Narcissa was on the ground, but only for a moment before his uncle reached down and pulled her up harshly. Regulus couldn’t believe what he was seeing, his eyes widening when the mark he had left was in plain view, the look of utter disgust all over his uncle’s face. He was frozen in place, terrified their secret had been found out. His brain screamed at him to rush in and explain, or try to give his uncle something, but his legs wouldn’t move. The echo of the slap hit Regulus almost as hard as it did Narcissa.
An overwhelming wave of nausea suddenly overcame him, and Regulus ripped his mask off as he lurched across the porch and leaned over the railing, the bubbly he’d just drank coming right back up. If he wasn’t so utterly shocked, he’d have been more angry, ready to confront his uncle and defend Narcissa’s honor. But his mind was moving slowly, not quite able to put the pieces together fast enough. He turned around at the sound of approaching footsteps and quickly moved back the way he’d come, holding his breath.
Moments later, Regulus saw his uncle storming his way, his vision apparently tunneled, his face screwed into a simmering anger. The sight snapped Regulus awake, his own fury ignited. Stepping into his uncle’s path, ready to fight if need be, Regulus barely opened his mouth before Cygnus stopped and blinked, frowning slightly and placing both of his hands on Regulus’s shoulders.
“Your parents are lucky they have such a good lad. A strong, proper Black heir.” His smile was one Regulus would have beamed at before, but now it took all his willpower not to pull away. “If only your cousin was as dutiful. As obedient. Loyal.” Cygnus’s gaze glossed over a moment, his eyes cold and emotionless as his fingers dug into Regulus’s shoulders before he focused back on Regulus, his hold loosening. “Make sure she does as she was told. I’m counting on you, Regulus. Keep her in line.” With a nod, and not waiting for a response, Cygnus dropped his hands and stepped around Regulus before striding out of sight.
Regulus was at the glass doors in seconds, staring at the devastation that his uncle had left. He had only felt this way one other time–when Narcissa had been attacked at school–and yet somehow this felt even worse. To know that this was a result from family, from a man he looked up to and respected. Had looked up to and respected. It sent his mind reeling again, and he found he couldn’t move again, too afraid to go near. He wanted nothing more than to hold Narcissa, run to her and tell her everything would be okay, but he couldn’t.
Their eyes found one another’s and it was like the spell was broken. Regulus finally stepped into the room, only to stop again at Narcissa’s stuttering and her withdrawal from him. That hurt, more than Regulus ever thought possible, that she wouldn’t run to him for safety. But he’d been too late. Again. He swallowed that harsh trust, storing it away for later guilt. Instead, he slowly raised his hands and began inching his way toward her again. Her tirade of excuses and explanations only brought on his tears, and he gently shook his head, still unable to trust his voice.
The moment she fell again, Regulus quickly closed the remaining distance, though still kept an arm’s length between them as he crouched down. His hand shook as he reached out, ever so gently touching her arm. “Cis–” His voice cracked and he cleared it several times before he tried again. “Cissy, you’re not fine.” There were a million questions he wanted to ask, but only one he needed to know right then. “How long has he been doing that to you?” He paused and his frown deepend before adding, “H-Hitting you?”
Cissa always felt safe with Reggie; there had never been a moment where she ever felt afraid - with him or of him. But as he touched her, she still cringed, trying to draw in on herself. It was an automatic response now, and even when it was her sisters who found her, they had to take their time before she was ready for them to touch her again. She took in a shuddering breath, trying to find the words to insist that she was fine, she would be fine. She had to be. If she didn’t go out and dance with Lucius Malfoy . . . her father was already angrier than she’d ever seen him so she didn’t want to imagine what he would be like if she defied him like that.
But when she spoke, it was to answer his question. “A-always? He - he always - it’s - it’s what’s done.” The words came out uncertainly, because while Bella had always been sure when she told Cissa that this was done in all the pureblood families, Reggie’s reaction didn’t seem to support that. She’d always known her aunt and uncle were different but she hadn’t thought about how different. “Wh-when Andie l-left -” It had taken a turn at that point but . . . “I - I - I’m a disappointment - stupid - I - I can’t - I try so hard -” Nothing was ever enough for him though. No matter what she did. How many times had he told her she was stupid? Or a disappointment. Or irrelevant.
She bit her lip, trying to stifle the sob that caught in her throat. After a long moment, she lurched forward so she could lean against him but when she felt his arms moving, she let out a whimper and shook her head frantically. He froze and then his hands fell again and Cissa breathed a soft sigh of relief against his chest. Somewhere she recognized that it probably would be hard for him to not hold her but she couldn’t, not yet. Her forehead pressed to his shoulder - she had initially rested her cheek there but the pressure made it throb. Father had struck both sides of her face, although he’d hit the left side twice and it hurt more. That was the side where he’d split her lip. Cissa touched it gingerly, but the bleeding seemed to have stopped.
The mask was uncomfortable and she lifted her hands to pluck at the ribbon securing it but she couldn’t make sense of the knot. After a heartbeat, she felt Reggie’s hands on hers and she froze again, her heartbeat moving in double time. But he waited and she finally dropped her hand, offering silent permission for him to untie the knot. When that was done, she closed her eyes and sat up long enough for him to gently pull the mask away - if her eyes were closed, she couldn’t see his hand and that made it easier for her; immediately after that, she dropped her head to his shoulder again, tensing as he brushed her shoulder before moving his hand. She wasn’t ready to talk, and maybe he realized that because the silence lingered as she tried to steady herself.
Her hair had started to come out of the elaborate updo and when she peered at Reggie - after her heart had started to slow and her breathing had returned to something close to normal - it was through several strands that had fallen in front of her face. “Y-you - you won’t - w-wouldn’t -” Her hand lifted and her fingers brushed her cheek, making her flinch against the pain, but the sentence went unfinished. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her but the question lingered. At one point, she had thought her father wouldn’t hurt her. Those thoughts were pointless though and she had to go dance. “I - I n-need -” Somehow, she managed to pull herself away from Reggie and reach up to try and push the loose hair back into the pins. “I n-need to go - to - to - he said -”
She’d have to glamour the cut on her lip too - she didn’t think her face was bruised at this point but the lip would be a bad sign. This was one of the spells she could do without her wand, and she closed her eyes in order to do it. But the magic was out of reach. All she managed to do was rattle a vase behind her, and send a book flying off the coffee table to land on the floor with a loud banging noise that made her flinch again. “You - you’ll - have to - I can’t c-cover - please? He’ll be s-so angry -” She couldn’t wait for his answer though, and struggled to her feet, bracing her hand on his shoulder as she stood. Cissa was aware of Reggie moving as well, and talking, but she couldn’t hear over the pounding in her ears, and couldn’t focus on him anyway. Not until she lifted her head to see that she’d touched his shoulder with the bloodied hand and left a smudge of dark red on his coat.
“I - I - I’m s-sorry, I didn’t - please d-don’t be a-angry -” She took a step back, tripping yet again over the coffee table but this time she landed on the sofa instead of the floor. She hunched over, curling her dirty hand to her chest. Reggie wouldn’t be angry - he was almost never angry with her and even if he were angry, he wasn’t like her father but even knowing that, she still let out a litany of whispered apologies as she rocked on the couch. The need for comfort finally outweighed the fear of being touched and she held out her hand - the clean hand, as she ended the apologies with an even softer whisper of his name.
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