Regulus, while usually one to think every eventuality and possible outcome through to avoid any unforseen nastiness, had forgotten to account for Emma. Of course, he’d only known about the attack on Hogsmeade since the night before and between end of term festivities, graduation ceremonies, and trying to talk some sense into Sirius, Regulus hadn’t had a chance to talk to Emma. He should have known, he realized now, that she would be planning to go into Hogsmeade with the rest. She had friends among the seventh years, friends she would want to say goodbye to.
Friends Regulus knew should have been telling her what he hoped to tell her. Not to go.
When he’d learned about the attack, his immediate thought was to try and keep Sirius from harm’s way without breaking direct orders and telling him about the attack. He’d not even thought of trying to protect Emma. She wasn’t meant to need protection from those he called allies. And it wasn’t so much that she was in danger from them, just that having her in a place where he knew a battle would break out went against every fiber in his body.
He’d lost her after the graduation but they’d talked about meeting in the greenhouse to have some time alone with one another in all the bustle of the day. He was surprised to have arrived before her and waited in the warm embrace of the glass walls and foliage lined paths, pacing through the aisles as he waited for her to join him.
Sirius felt sick. He couldn’t remember the last time meeting his brother for anything had made him feel sick. He wasn’t sure he’d felt like this even on the night they’d reconciled after nearly two horrible years of silence and separation. He didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to call Regulus out on this, but what choice did he have? His brother wouldn’t look at him anymore, the way he’d done right after Sirius had fled home. He knew what it meant and it scared him half to death.
When Alecto’s letter came and confirmed it, he’d been unable to stand. His legs gave out and he’d thrown up right there on the floor. He didn’t feel much better now.
When Regulus finally came in to view, he didn’t feel any better. If anything, he felt worse. The knife in his gut twisted and it was all he could do to make himself stand still and wait for his baby to come to him. He wiped his palms against his jeans, though he’d never sweat so much when it was so damn cold. He could feel it today when normally the winter chill would have been a blessing. Even his blood felt like ice in his veins.
He didn’t know what to say and for a moment he just stood there, grateful his brother had come when he’d asked and horrified that Regulus still wasn’t looking at him. He took a deep breath and it shuddered horrible in his lungs. What in the fuck was he supposed to say? How did you start this conversation? He had no idea. He’d gone over it a thousand times in his head, but everything was stuck in his throat now, and it felt like it was made of sandpaper.
He couldn’t even cross the distance between them, couldn’t force himself on his brother now. He wanted to so desperately but he was scared. That was the root of it all. This was one of his greatest fears finally come to light and he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready but it was here all the same.
Sirius opened his mouth and sighed, his expression softening around the edges. He’d practiced it a thousand times, but the words felt wrong in his mouth. So he stopped trying to think and said the first words that left his mouth without trying to check them.
“……I know, baby,” he murmured, the heat of his breath causing steam to curl away from his lips as he spoke. “I know what you’ve done. I love you. You’re my baby and you always will be. Ok? I just…. I just fuckin’ love you, Reggie. That’s all I need you to know.”
Regulus didn’t regret what he’d done. That was important to say, it was something he’d been reminding himself of for days. Every time he saw his brother in the halls, or at meals, he reminded himself that he wasn’t sorry for what he’d done. True, it had been a bit - extreme - if you asked the young wizard, but the ends had to justify the means and if that is what it took to join the organization that would put the wizarding world back to rights, he would do what he must. And most of the time, that decision didn’t toy with his conscience.
Except for when he thought about what his brother would say. Long before Regulus understood the politics that drove his actions now, Regulus had only had one goal. To make his brother proud. It was hard, now with so much separating them, for him to let that go. To know that he couldn’t base his actions on that outcome, as it was too diametrically opposed to all the things Regulus most believed in and fought for. His brother, as much as the younger wizard still loved him, was so very different from Regulus himself. And it had finally come time to accept and own up to those differences.
Things had steadily been getting colder between Regulus and Sirius since the Christmas holidays, since Regulus had been invited to join the Death Eaters. The younger wizard was pulling away and it wasn’t subtle. But since the Hogsmeade trip a week prior, Regulus couldn’t even look at his older brother. He knew what he had done, knew what Sirius would say, and couldn’t bear it. He didn’t regret what he had done, but he’d underestimated how hard it would be to know what that meant for him and Sirius.
When the older wizard asked to see him, a school owl dropping a simple note at breakfast, Regulus almost didn’t go. He toyed with the slip of parchment all day, wondering if he would go and trying to talk himself into it and out of it. Even as the time to meet Sirius approached, he hadn’t made up his mind. The decision wasn’t made until the time to meet him had come - and gone. When Regulus finally arrived, he was late and very far from ready for this encounter.
He didn’t know what to say to his brother, didn’t know what to do. Like he had so many months ago, he simply stood in the doorway, his face as cold and impassive as he could make it. His hands were slipped casually into trouser pockets, his long sleeves fastened securely at his wrists, hiding the ink that now stained his left forearm.
He didn’t wonder what his brother knew, or even ask how. There was still, somehow, enough crossover in their worlds that Regulus wasn’t surprised by that. He shook his head at the rest of it, though, a very small and very wry smirk turning up the corners of his mouth. So wry it could be called a grimace. “If you knew - if you really understood - you wouldn’t.” He couldn’t. After all, what Regulus had done, it went against everything his brother had ever confessed to stand for.
After our encounter a few nights ago, I’ve thought much about what I can do to make this easier for you. I want you to be happy, to move on from me. And you’re right. It is impossible to escape one another. There are too many obstacles. And so I aim to remove some of them.
I’ve been working with our reserve all year and I believe he is ready to fill my spot on the team. I will be resigning. The team is yours and until now has been a place of refuge for you. Hopefully this will help it remain so. I hope this will ease things, will make moving forward easier for you. I wish you well.
Regulus
Emma had not thought it possible for things to get worse between them, for anything to escalate the tension that was already so prevalent between herself and Regulus that one could cut it with a knife, but this. She had not expected this, but it proved her wrong in is entirety. She read the letter once, twice, three times and every time she only became angrier. She could hardly contain it despite herself. She clenched her hand around the parchment, wrinkling and crumpling it in her hand. If he thought it would be so easy, he was dead wrong.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Emma stormed out of her room and people scattered to get out of her way. It didn’t take her long to find him, and it took all she had in her not to grab him and slam him against the wall as she’d done once before, but this time in a much different manner. She marched up to him, standing up to her full height, and shoved the letter at him.
“What the hell is this?” she snapped, spitting the words at him. “What the bloody fucking hell is this, Regulus?” She was livid, and though there were others around them well within earshot she didn’t care. She didn’t even bother trying to keep her voice down. “How dare you,” she seethed. “If this is your attempt to appease me, you’ve failed entirely. I refuse to accept this. This is insulting and I won’t have it.”
Regulus was miserable. He couldn’t exactly say that he was more or less miserable now than he had been before, mostly because he had reached rock bottom, but now there was no bright spot. No light. The last thing that he had loved he had withdrawn from, and he now had no refuge. He didn’t regret it, though, and wouldn’t be argued out of his decision. He knew it was the right one. But knowing didn’t make it any easier.
He had assumed the news would be hard for Emma to swallow, that she would be more upset for a bit before she started to improve. What he had not expected, however, was snapping, spitting, madwoman that came storming down the hall towards him. He was in a conversation with Rabastan when he saw his friend’s eyes widen as something caught his eye behind Regulus and when he turned, he understood why. If looks could kill, he would be long past dead.
He squared his jaw and steeled himself against her vehemence, though. Someone else might have been frightened by her - for good reason - or might buckle beneath her wrath but Regulus was a Black. And their tempers were notorious. He was more controlled and restrained than his cousin Bellatrix and his brother, but beneath his perfectly controlled exterior, the heart of a Black still beat. “There is no appeasing you in this, Emma,” he pointed out, his tone stubborn but even. “You want to be apart from me. That is quite entirely your own decision. I am just trying to respect it. To make it easier for you. You cannot have it both ways.”
His tone was almost cold, and it made her temper flare hotter. She glared at Rabastan and the way he was staring til he shrank behind Regulus. She could feel the eyes of a dozen more more students boring in to her, but she couldn’t have cared less about them. Her gaze moved back to Regulus, the object of her rage, and her eyes flared, glinting with fury at him. That he was so calm and so completely accusatory infuriated her worse; she didn’t want to deal with him or his nonsense, but she wasn’t about to let her seeker walk out on their team because of some petty spat between them.
“You’re an idiot,” she snapped impatiently, waving off his empty words. “I don’t want to be away from you, you thick-headed imbecile. I don’t want any of this, and if you had half a brain in that swollen head of yours you’d remember that. What I want is for my seeker to stop acting like a child and to keep the commitment he made to his team instead of running away because of an obstacle or two. I am doing my duty and you should do the same. Resigning solves nothing. I don’t enjoy seeing you, Regulus, but leaving the team won’t stop that from happening regardless. If anything it makes it worse.”
She stepped forward and grabbed his wrist, shoving the letter in to his hand. “If you want to resign, you tell your team yourself. Don’t send a letter to your captain like a coward. You face them and you tell them you can’t take it, but don’t you dare make this about me. I don’t need to you protect me and I sure as hell don’t want you to. We have two more years at this school together, so get used to it.”
For a week and a half Regulus had walked around with a hole in his heart, trying to do everything he could to make this work for Emma. To make it as easy for her as he could. He had done everything he could think of and everything he could stomach. But the fact of the matter was, he didn’t want this. He understood the logic behind her decision but when push came to shove, he didn’t agree with it and he didn’t want it. He would respect it because he cared for her and respected her, but he didn’t have to be happy about it. And he would be damned if he let her believe for a moment longer that he agreed with this.
“You don’t want to be but you are choosing to be,” he pointed out. “I don’t want this, Emma. Not for a second. This decision was all yours and these are the consequences of it. Don’t talk to me about duty. About what i am supposed to do. I am doing it. I am letting you walk away from me, I am doing everything that is asked of me by you and my mother and this house and getting nothing but pain in return.” His even tone wavered only the slightest bit, edged with frustration and desperation.
As she grabbed his wrist, his muscles tensed beneath her touch and he crushed the wrinkled letter in his fist. “I did not write you because I am a coward,” he asserted. “I wrote because I will not force you to see me. I will not seek you out, I will not impose myself on you. As for the team, our reserve is more than capable and I will not shrink in fear of telling them so myself. So if you think to force me to stay by shaming me, I assure you it will not work.”
“Choosing?” she repeated, a laugh working its way in to her voice. “What choice do you think I have? What do you think happens to me if I refuse? If I involve myself with you despite what my family dictates? What do you think happens to Cornelius? You look me in the eyes and you tell me you really think this is a choice I have the luxury of making.” She knew her words wouldn’t make much sense to anyone but him, but her meaning would be clear - if she disobeyed, she was convinced her brother was a good as dead. They only treated him as well as they did because she’d threatened to expose their negligence if they did not, but if she got herself disgraced or disowned, there would be nothing more she could do for him.
She backed away from Regulus the moment she dropped his hand and all but threw hers up in defeat. “Oh how noble,” she snapped. “I’m forced to see you all the bloody time, but gods forbid you should have to stoop so low as to speak to me yourself.” She snorted and shook her head. “I’m not trying to do anything but to get you to stop, Regulus. It hurts seeing you all the time, you know that. It does. But I can’t escape it and trying to make me forget you exist isn’t going to help. Nothing will. And hell, it was my choice anyway, right? I can take it, and I’ll be damned if I thought you were the kind of person to play the victim.”
She backed away, frustrated and angry, but also entirely worn out. She didn’t want to fight him, she was aching to run to him and beg him to forgive her, to stay, anything. But she couldn’t, so instead she started to walk away. “Do what you want, Regulus, clearly I can’t stop you. But no one is forcing you in to anything. If you decide to stop feeling sorry for yourself, practice is first thing tomorrow. Otherwise I expect a formal resignation. Not this nonsense.”
Regulus had wanted to have none of this conversation in the public eye but she had given him little choice in the matter, storming up to him as she did. The conversation now, though, was slipping into territory unsuitable for public consumption and while she may have been beyond caring, he most certainly was not. It wasn’t a matter of propriety or of protecting her, his pride simply wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t answer her right away, instead he moved his stony gaze from Emma to those watching them. Unlike Emma, they had the good sense to cower away from such a glare. “Go. Now.” The words were spoken softly, deathly so, and only a few even hesitated before the corridor was summarily cleared. Rabastan was the last to go, needing a glare delivered solely for him from his friend before realizing the instruction applied to him as well. Only when they were alone did Regulus turn his attention back to Emma.
“Everything is a choice,” he snapped back to her, his hold on his temper fraying every moment. “You choose to follow the path laid out for you without argument and without objection. I don’t think the situation as dire as you make it. You speak of playing the victim, but I hardly think your parents would object too heavily to the last remaining son of the House of Black as a son-in-law.” He knew as he said it that the words were a low blow. He’d never cared about her lower birth, had never thought of it nor mentioned it. But now he couldn’t help it. If anyone’s parents would be distressed by their match, it was his. And as for his - he couldn’t have cared less.
“Stop what?” he nearly shouted, all but throwing his hands up in the air. “I leave alone you get angry. I’m around and it hurts. I don’t know what you want from me, Emma. ”
His pride flared at her words, he was not feeling sorry for himself. And if he was, he would not admit to it. He was doing this for her, doing what she asked of him. He would not apologize for it. Pride hurt and fight leaving him quickly, he spoke to her back as she began to walk away. “If you think this is what I want, you know nothing. The only thing I want is the one thing you refuse to even consider.”
She all but reeled when he started sending everyone away. To do so meant he wanted to continue this conversation, and that was the last thing she could ever want today. She held her tongue, biting the edge of it to keep her silence and she tried during the flurry of movement around them to lock her temper down, to push her emotions away and lock them back up where they belonged, but it wasn’t as easy as it should have been. She hated him, loathed every inch of him for doing this to her and she wanted to hit him, to scream at him, to turn around and leave. She should. She knew she should do all those things. But instead she waited for him to speak again, meeting it with stony silence.
“No,” she hissed icily. “I do not object. I do not fight. I was taught when I was young the consequences of disobedience.” The truth was, her parents frightened her as much as she hated them, as their power far outweighed hers without questions. They could do whatever they wanted to her and they’d proved they were willing to. She didn’t want to tempt them again, or give them any reason to further neglect her brother.
Her jaw clenched at his words, her hands curling in to fists til her nails pressed painfully in to her palms. “Go ahead. Buy me from them.” Her voice, if it were possible, had gotten colder. “They’ll be thrilled.”
She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. “I want you to forget we ever happened!” Her voice wavered as she said it, but she shouted it nonetheless. “Forget you love me. Forget I ever wanted you and just…go back to the way things were.” She knew they couldn’t do that, but she ddn’t see any other options but to try.
She rounded on him when he shot his last at her. “What,” she demanded, exasperated. “What do I refuse to consider? By all means, go ahead and tell me.”
Regulus was taught the same lessons Emma was, the same consequences applied to him as did to her as did to all of them. But Regulus had something Emma hadn’t had. Sirius. He not only learned the consequences of disobedience but he learned that obedience had consequences of it’s own. And sometimes they were far far worse. “And so you have made your choice,” he pointed out, his own argument coming full circle. “You have your reasons, I will not argue that. But do not pretend that you are helpless. Should you have chosen to fight, you would not have fought alone.”
The tone of voice she used then was the reason he didn’t do just that. The way her fists turned her knuckles white and her jaw clenched visibly caused him to shake his head, his expression softening as hers tightened. “I will not buy you, Emma. I will not be the one to force your hand.”
His expression had softened and as it did, the fight was gone from him. The hardened, untouchable front he held while they were not alone dissipated and he shouted back just as raw. “I can’t. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t forget how much I love you. It’s part of me, now. Believe me, I would give you anything you asked were it within my power but I can’t.”
He hadn’t meant to ask her this. He’d promised himself he would not ask her again, not after the night she ended things, but he’d gone too far to clam up now. He couldn’t well give her grief for not fighting if he weren’t willing to do the same. “Choose me.” he answered her, all vehemence and anger gone from his words. “Choose me and trust that I will protect you. I will take care of you and Cornelius. Forget the bloody rules because if there is anything worth fighting for, it’s this.”
Saying she’d chosen was as much an insult as anything. It hadn’t really been a choice, there had never really been options open to her as much as she’d wished there had been. Not everyone was so lucky as Sirius to have the luxury of turning tail and running, but she couldn’t say that. She bit her cheek until it bled, refusing to speak at all. She couldn’t, she had nothing more to say, not even when his voice wavered just as much or when he shouted or laid himself bare in front of her.
Emma just stood there and did nothing.
She wanted to scream at him to stop looking at her like that, but what good would it do? She wasn’t sure he even could. She shook her head and started to turn away again, feeling her emotions stinging in the back of her throat and prickling behind her eyes, threatening to bring her tears back when she’d finally not shed them in days. But he went on and she froze, her breath catching in her throat. She turned to look at him again, desperate to believe it were possible, that maybe her brother would be safe, that she could get out, that no one could hurt her precious Cory again.
She didn’t know what to do. All the anger inside her slithered away til there was nothing left of it in her bones, and she felt herself deflating. She looked away from him, two different answers dueling against themselves as each sought purchase on her tongue. She took in a slow, deep breath and felt it shudder in her lungs, and the word she hadn’t dared to hope would win slipped out of her mouth when she exhaled, unbidden and terrifying.
“….Alright.”
Regulus honestly hadn’t expected her to answer him that way. As soon as he asked her he’d regretted it, knowing that to hear her choose an arranged marriage over him again would tear him apart. Not for a moment had he thought she would give him the answer he so longed to hear. He almost didn’t believe it when she did. He had to have been hallucinating, he was sure he would wake up any moment and this would have just been a terrible wonderful dream. But it wasn’t a dream. He had asked her to choose him, to trust him, and she had agreed.
The world froze between them for a moment as his face relaxed and his eyes widened. And then everything surged forward as he did, pulling her into his arms and pressing his lips against hers in the most desperate kiss they’d ever shared. One hand cupped her face while the other wrapped around her back, pulling her tight against him as if he was refusing to ever let her go again. And he was.
He kissed her until he couldn’t breathe, until he had to pull away and force air down into his lungs. When he did, he gazed down at her with wondering eyes. “I love you, Emma. We will figure this out. I promise. But I can’t be without you again.” A pit in his chest at the mere thought gave weight to his words, every emotion laid bare on his face for her to read.
She shouldn’t have agreed and she knew that. It could be the death of her brother and worse for her but she couldn’t refuse him again. She didn’t have the strength in her to do it so she couldn’t. She’d never wanted to in the first place and she’d hated that she had to. She felt like her head was spinning, and for one wild moment she almost took it back, almost. But then he was moving toward her and without even thinking about it, she went to meet him.
She all but threw herself in his arms and kissed him senseless and it made her want to cry all over again. How she’d managed to be away from him for this long was beyond her and she never wanted to do it again. This was crazy and reckless and foolish but it was done. She wasn’t going to change her mind again, not with how desperately his lips were claiming hers.
She didn’t want him to pull away and nearly protested when he did. She slid her arms around his neck, her expression soft enough to break. “You have to keep him safe,” she pleaded softly. “Please, Reggie…” She buried her face in his shoulder, aching from that small distance that had been between them and wanting it gone. “I don’t know what to do. I love you and I don’t know what to do.”
She was in his arms again and for the first time in over a week Regulus felt like he could breath again, like everything was where it belonged. He knew what he had promised her and he fully intended to keep his promise. He just - he didn’t know how, yet. When she buried her head in his shoulder, he wrapped both arms around her, holding her tight. She belonged there, that much he knew. She was safe in his arms and he would do whatever it took to keep her that way.
“Everything will be alright, sweetheart,” he promised, his cheek resting against her hair as he held her. He wasn’t sure how it would be, but if he knew anything, he knew that he would do whatever it would take to keep that promise. Which, he realized, would very likely mean speaking to the one person he had no interest in asking for help. His mother.
He pressed his eyes shut against the thought, wrapping his arms tighter around Emma without even realizing it. He hadn’t spoken to the woman since he’d learned what she did to Sirius, what she’d done to make him leave. She was the last person in the world he wanted to talk to but if it meant keeping Emma happy - and thus Cornelius safe - he would do it. If it were just the two of them, they wouldn’t need her. He could take care of Emma alone, to hell with his family if it came to it. But they were only sixteen, he couldn’t very well take care of her brother as well. And so this would have to be done by more - roundabout means.
A week had gone by and it wasn’t getting better. She’d thought that it would, that the pain would start to lessen after a while, but it didn’t. She had been hoping this was just another part of her increasingly shortened childhood that she had to leave behind and that she would learn to do without, but it wasn’t. Not in the way that other things were. This was a kind of pain she’d never known, and it was something she couldn’t escape from no matter how she tried. Everywhere she went, he was there. In class, at practice, on the grounds, everywhere. They were in the same year, the same house, and what had one been a blessing had become a curse. It followed her like a plague and she didn’t know what to do.
Terrance had told her once he drank himself stupid or got high to dull the pain he felt, and she had nothing but an abundance of pain. She wouldn’t smoke the things he did, but she’d gotten drunk before, just the once, and this was an occasion she could justify doing it again. Emma was not a drinker, and after the first bottle of wine she was too dizzy to move. She was drinking through her second, the bottle clutched in her hand as she sat against the stone wall behind her. She was drunk, or at least very close to it, and she didn’t feel any better. She honestly wasn’t sure she would no matter what she did, but she took another drunk from the bottle anyway.
She looked up, turning her head when she heard footsteps approaching and far, far too late she realized she was sitting in a back hallway between the library and the heads’ common room. She hadn’t been thinking, and she could barely think now, and now there he was, not even paying attention. She laughed, a desperate, throaty sort of laugh and swallowed it down with another gulp of wine. It really couldn’t get any worse than this, she decided. The gods must be laughing at her.
For a week, Regulus had been doing a good impression of the walking dead. He didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, spoke only when spoken to. He went to class but he’d be damned if he could remember what was said. The only reason he didn’t under perform on the pitch was because he tried to go as unnoticed as possible, and he knew that Emma was the kind of captain who paid more attention to those doing something wrong than those getting it right. He spent every waking moment not in class in the library or with Sirius, only going back to his dorm when he knew Emma would be in bed and wouldn’t see him coming in. He went out of his way to give her the space she had forced between them and it was running him ragged.
For once in his life, Regulus had met a situation he didn’t want to over analyze. He could have spent this week going over every possible solution, every possible answer that would allow him to hold Emma again, to keep her safe and give her everything he wanted. But he knew before he started that such an answer didn’t exist. Instead he did something unfamiliar to him, he ignored the problem. He ignored the pain in his chest as best he could, ignored the way his brother looked at him as if he was about to break and the way his cousins cast concerned glances his way. He ignored it all as if by ignoring it, it would go away and he would simply wake up happy one day. Or that he would at least become used to the pain.
He’d been with Sirius in the Head’s Common Room that night, taking advantage of the Head Students having rounds to hide out with his brother. But when the Potter boy and the mudblood returned, Regulus took his leave, figuring it was late enough to go back to his common room without running into Emma. He’d never imagined running into her not in the common room but in the hall, turning the corner to see her sitting against the wall in the middle of the corridor, dress wrinkled around her, hair falling from it’s pins, a near empty bottle in her hand. Worry, fear, and concern all flooded Regulus at the sight. "Emma?“ he questioned from the corner before he sped up his steps to reach the spot where she sat. "Are you alright?”
Emma didn’t know what to do. She’d always known what to do, what was expected of her. She’d been raised to perform her duties under any and all circumstances, to be perfect regardless of the situation. But how was she supposed to be perfect here? Her mother would have told her to swallow her fear and her pain and to deal with it the way everyone dealt with it, but Emma didn’t know how. She had no support but for Terrance, and Regulus was everywhere. She wanted to run but she had nowhere to go. The letter was coming any day now, and not knowing when to expect it was almost worse than all the rest. Not knowing what was in it terrified her, and knowing it wouldn’t be his name she was given was the worst thing that had ever happened to her.
She’d only been drunk once before, the day her parents told her Cornelius would never live to be twelve, and that even that number was highly optimistic. He was six years old now, and it would be a miracle if he lived to ten. That had been the worst day of her life until she had to hurt Regulus. The two were entirely different situations, but she would have said they were equal in terms of pain. She’d known nearly her whole life Cory was sick, that he might not live. At least she’d had some warning before that day had come. She’d been entirely ill-prepared for falling in love with the perfect wrong man.
And now here he was, asking her if she was alright, running to her like none of it mattered, like they didn’t both look like death barely warmed over, like they weren’t both heartbroken beyond repair. She laughed again and drank and she wished she had more to drink once this was gone. She’d run out soon and she just wanted it all to stop. But it wouldn’t. It would never stop. She laughed again and shook her head. “No,” she snapped at him, agitated. “Of course I’m not alright, I’m drunk you idiot.” The words were harsh but they were soft around the edges, and the way she looked at him was the same way she’d looked at him before. “He said it’d make it better only it doesn’t and that’s just wrong. And–and rude. I should give him a piece of my mind, is what I should do.” She leaned her head back against the wall and sighed heavily. “This is stupid.”
Regulus hadn’t been prepared for the amount of pain he would feel at the prospect of losing Emma Vanity. He’d never meant to fall in love with her, had never meant to feel anything for her beyond the friendliness of acquaintances. He’d always known his wife would be a woman his mother chose for him and because of that he’d never considered being in love until he’d very unceremoniously realized he’d fallen into it. And just as he realized it, it was snatched from his grip and he felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest. Even Sirius, for all he was trying, could do nothing to ease the ache. But simply setting eyes on Emma, even in her current state, suddenly made the air easier to breathe.
It didn’t even occur to him not to rush to her side, when he saw her so distressed and so obviously alone, he didn’t know what else to do. It was natural, ingrained, a part of him to take care of her and it was only after he’d already started that he realized that wasn’t his place anymore. He couldn’t ignore the way she looked at him now, eyes soft even though her words were spoken with the rough edges of bitter drunkenness, and it was because of her eyes that he sank to his knees before her, putting himself on her level. "Who said?“ he questioned, an eyebrow raised as he cursed whatever individual had given her this hare brained idea and had then left her to her lonesome to get herself into all manner of trouble.
When she leaned her head back against the wall, muttering that something was stupid, he had a feeling she was no longer talking about the way being drunk didn’t make everything better. Drunk as she was he liked to think he knew her well enough to know she was talking about something else entirely. And if she was, he agreed with her whole heartedly. "This is stupid,” he offered, knowing she’d likely not remember most of this in the morning and so being more open than he might otherwise have been. "I hate it,“ he added, moving a cautious hand to push her messy hair from her face as he settled into a sitting position beside her.
“Terrance. Weeks ago he said he did this shit all the time and it made it stop being so absolutely terrible well he’s wrong and I don’t appreciate it.” She took in a shaky breath and chased it down with wine. It didn’t ease the pain in her chest but she couldn’t seem to stop drinking it. It didn’t help, but it was something to hold on to, something to do. She didn’t understand why she was doing it, really, only knew she didn’t want to stop. And if she didn’t remember this tomorrow, that would be so much better. Not remembering being so close to him again would be the best thing she could imagine.
She initially flinched from his touch but she didn’t want to. She just didn’t know what to do. She snorted bitterly. “I don’t think anyone likes it. Who in their right mind wants their life stripped away from them, their choices made for them? I certainly don’t thank you very much.” She shook her head and pushed her mass of hair away from her face with one hand, the bottle still held in the other. “My parents are going to sell me to the first person they can get to take me. Do you know how terrifying it is of course you don’t. Your mother cares about you, crazy as everyone knows she is. At least you’re her son. I havent been anyone’s daughter in years. It’s just fucking stupid.”
She raised the bottle to take another drink but stopped and turned to look at him, almost as though she were realizing he was there for the first time. “You look terrible, you know,” she told him. “You’re not eating at meals and you’re not talking and I don’t know why I can’t stop watching you. It hurts like hell and I just can’t stop. Isn’t it sad? Terrance is all I have and I won’t even have him for long…. Salazar, but I miss you. Why can’t I just do what I’m told and not feel like this all the time, Reggie? I don’t like it.”
Regulus listened as she rambled and sweet Merlin did he want to chuckle. It wasn’t that the situation was funny in the slightest. It wasn’t and he very well knew it. But he was exhausted and in pain and stressed to his absolute limit and here was the most put together and poised woman he had ever known, ranting about how she was personally offended that she couldn’t get drunk enough and he couldn’t help it. He wanted to chuckle. The most he allowed himself was the hint of a smirk, it really wasn’t funny after all, but even that was more than he’d had in the last week.
He let her go one once he settled beside her, thoughts and feelings he’d always known she had now finally confirming themselves in her drunken ramblings. He - sober and in his right mind more or less - took it all in, listening as if she were talking to him with utmost seriousness. As she spoke, his expression darkened. He hated what she was saying, mostly because she was right. He’d never questioned the system before but hearing it now, seeing what it meant for her, he saw how flawed it truly was. He wished he had words of comfort for her but he didn’t. She was right and that was hardly comforting at all.
He was watching her as she spoke and only then did she turn and meet his gaze. Her words brought a wry smile to his lips, more honesty and once again she was right. He had the feeling that he was in one of those dreams, the type that seem as if you share them with another person and everything you say is what you always wanted to voice but never dared to speak out loud. She had the alcohol to blame and in a way, so did he. "I feel terrible,“ he returned with a shrug. "But you don’t look any better.” He wanted to hold her, to wrap and arm around her and tuck her safely against his side but he remembered how she had flinched moments earlier and refrained. "I don’t like it either and I wish you would just forget what you’re supposed to do.“ He hoped desperately that she would forget this in the morning, he wouldn’t dare say something like this to her otherwise. "I don’t care what we’re meant to do or who our parents pick. I just want to be with you. I can’t sleep or eat or even breath right without you. And you can’t either or you wouldn’t be sitting in the middle of the corridor, drunk as a Gryffindor after you’ve beaten them on the pitch.”
She caught that tiny smile and it looked somehow like sunlight. She wanted it to stay on his face, but only a few moments passed before it was gone and she hated it. She’d done that, fuck it all to hell, and she’d have given anything to take it back, to convince him there were things to smile about still. She wanted to tell him so, but she couldn’t think of a single fucking stupid thing that he might want to smile about. She wanted to blame it on the alcohol, but she knew she’d have come up empty sober too, and that thought was like a knife in the gut. It was becoming a familiar feeling, the knife in her gut, and she wanted it gone. It wasn’t a pain she could get used to.
“Rude,” she chided him when he said she looked terrible. She knew she did, but he didn’t have to point it out. She took a very long drink from the bottle and shook her head. “I can’t…. I can’t. I want to forget but no matter how much I drink it’s just there in my head that I can’t. I don’t want to sleep or eat or go to stupid fucking Quidditch, I hate it. All of it. You’re just– why are you always fucking there, Reggie? Merlin! I can’t escape you and you look so sad all the time and there’s nothing I can do. I can’t even… I’m not drunk enough for this.”
Whatever she’d wanted to say, she drowned it down in wine, the bottle almost empty now. She would hate herself tomorrow but she just wanted to keep drinking. She didn’t want to stop, maybe not til it killed her. She didn’t want to do this and she didn’t know what else to do. “I don’t have a choice. What am I supposed to do? Say fuck the system and be with you anyway? I can’t. Your mother would– My mother would… No. I won’t have it. I’m going to be married to someone awful and he’ll do as he pleases to me and if I’m lucky he won’t hit me much and I’ll bear his children and be miserable and that’s just the way it is. I should never have said yes to you. It was so much easier before.”
She called him rude because he told her she looked terrible but he knew that had he answered differently, had he told her that she looked so tired and pained and yet was still somehow the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, he thought she would think him much ruder. He wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t ply her with the compliments he had once given her so freely, wouldn’t remind her of the way things had been with them before. He would try with all the will he could summon to respect her decision and try and make things easier on her. Which - he realized then - he hadn’t been doing. He’d been moping around and reminding her of the pain she’d surely blame on herself. If anything, he’d been making it worse.
He wanted to apologize for being inescapable, for causing her so much pain. He would have disappeared if he could, removed himself from her life so that she could heal and move forward. He did the best he could, spending so much of his time in the Library or in Sirius’ dorm. He had often contemplated skipping Quidditch practices and if he thought that would do her any good he would have done that too. But there was no way to apologize that, being there was bad but being gone wouldn’t do either. “You have to try,” he said instead, trying to keep the emotion in his voice to the barest minimum. “You can’t let yourself waste away. Not over me.” It was of little comfort, he knew, but he hated watching her do this to herself.
He cringed when she mentioned his mother. He did indeed know what his mother could do, he knew very well. But even that threat paled in comparison to the future she described, a husband who mistreated her and a life without happiness or love. Regulus had long been firm in his loyalties, only ever questioning them when faced with the idea that his beliefs would one day separate him permanently from Sirius. Now those beliefs, that life, were separating him from Emma. Not some time in the future, but right now. It was an insane truth, as they were both loyal and obedient to those beliefs and that society, and it brought them now only pain. And he wanted to tell her yes, say fuck it all and be with him. But he knew she wouldn’t, and it wasn’t fair to ask her. “This will pass, Emma,” he lied, trying to find some words that would help even though he knew there were none. “You’ll move on, you’ll forget me. The stupid boy who asked far too much of you. And you’ll go on as you always had.” He wanted to tell her she would be happy, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. “Let me take you back to the Common Room. You need sleep, real sleep. You’re going to have a hell of a headache in the morning.”
Emma laughed, and to her horror she started to cry. She’d been on the verge of it all night, and had been holding it off as best she could. She wiped her cheeks as they fell, but it hadn’t done any good at all since all of this had started, and now with as drunk as she was, she knew it wouldn’t be any better. She took another drink and frowned when she heard the wine sloshing in the bottle; it was almost empty and she didn’t want it to be. It hurt so much being so close to him but at the same time so incredibly fucking far. It was going to be like this forever and she knew she had to get used to it, but she had no idea how she ever could.
She looked up at him miserably. “Try?” she repeated. “Try what? To pretend some more? To act like it doesn’t matter? It does, Reggie. It’s always gonna matter and I wish it wouldn’t. I can’t just forget it, Reggie. Maybe you can, but I can’t.” It hurt to think he’d move on one day and forget all about this and how wonderful it had been while it lasted, but she knew even now it would be for the best if he did. She leaned her head back against the wall and tried to ignore how sick she felt, though she couldn’t have said if it was the wine or his words doing it to her. She closed her eyes, trying to will that feeling away, but it just made her dizzy. She knew she couldn’t get back on her own. She was too drunk to think about standing, let alone walking. She hadn’t exactly thought this through.
“You’re not a stupid boy,” she whispered and wiped at her damp eyes again. “You’re not. I don’t fall in love with stupid boys.” She shook her head at his offer to take her back. She didn’t want him to do that, to have to carry her after everything else they’d been through. It would be torture for both of them and she didn’t want that. “Get Terrance,” she told him. “He can get me.” She knew Reggie wouldn’t leave her side long enough to get him, and he probably wouldn’t want to trust someone else to take her home. It wasn’t in his nature, or hadn’t been at least while she was still his. “Just…. just leave me alone,” she whispered. She didn’t want him to go, but she didn’t know what else to do. Every moment he was here was agony, and it wasn’t going to get any better. “I’m fine.”
Regulus didn’t fail at many things but he was failing at this. He didn’t know what to do for her, what to say. He didn’t know if he should leave her alone so she could forget him or if he should fight for her because he loved her and he knew they were making a mistake. Nothing that made them both this miserable could possibly be the right thing, could it? It would be one thing if she were happy. He could endure any amount of his own pain and misery if he thought she was happy without him. But she wasn’t, she clearly wasn’t, and he couldn’t stand seeing her like this. She began to cry and every part of him screamed out to hold her, to wrap his arms around her as her body shook and to tell her everything would be alright. For the first time in his life, Regulus didn’t know what to do.
“Of course I can’t forget it, Emma,” he said with perhaps more bite than he intended when she accused him of being able to easily forget her. Whether he would fight for her against her wishes or not, that much was true either way. “You are in my thoughts every moment of every day and you always will be. I can’t forget you and I don’t want to. But if we can’t be together, you have to move on. You have to be strong, you -” He forced himself to stop as he realized he was coming dangerously close to deciding to fight for her and he was still unsure that that was what was best for her.
It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to react to her words. Not to tell her he loved her too, that he had fallen completely in love with her. And that he was a stupid boy for doing so, knowing what life would ask of them. It wouldn’t help, of that at least he was sure. He’d already told her he loved her, anyway, and it had done nothing but make this harder for both of them. He shook his head at her instructions to go get Terrance. The boy was his friend, and a good one at that, but it rankled that she would rely on him in place of Regulus. He knew it was an irrational thought but it was one he had all the same. He wanted to be that man for her, the one who took care of her and who she turned to for comfort and support. He knew there was nothing between her and Terrance, nothing like what was between them, but it was more than he was allowed with her anymore and, were he to truly admit it to himself, he hated that. He was about to protest when she told him to leave her alone. The words cut through him and he wanted to scream at that pain of them. Moreso, he wanted to scream because if she was ever going to heal, to move past him, that was exactly what he would have to do. “I’ll leave you alone once you’re back in the common room and safe,” he said, his voice detached and separate, trying to make her believe he did this out of common courtesy and good manners, even though nothing could have felt more right than the way she felt as he stood and scooped her up into his arms where she fit so bloody perfectly.
Regulus had known relatively little pain in his young life, he had long been loved and protected by those around him. He’d never felt the sting of abandonment or heartbreak, not until his brother ran away from home two years prior. Even that, though, had faded with time, as the boys found ways around the forces that separated them. Sirius had left home, after all, not Regulus. He couldn’t say the same for Emma. The pain he felt at her loss surpassed anything he had felt in his life, it was worse than everything else combined. After she left him on that balcony, it was all he could do to remember how to breathe. Every fiber of his being burned in pain, his chest ached and he realized that to be heart broken was a very real feeling. It was not just a state of mind, it was a physical pain he would carry with him for the rest of his days.He stood on that balcony for hours, watching the light change from dusk to twilight to true night while seeing nothing at all. He did not smoke a cigarette, didn’t see or hear any changes in the air around him, he simply stood and tried to remember that it was necessary to breathe in and out. His mind was clouded, hazy, unable to make sense of anything through the pain that enveloped him. It was only when the harsh chill of the early November night air began to whip through him that he entertained the thought of going inside. But where would he go? He couldn’t go back to his house, she was there and he could not bear the thought of crossing her path. If he saw her again he was sure he would break completely apart, or worse, he would try again to hold her causing her even more pain. That he could not do. Every where else he thought of, though, reminded her of him. Nothing was safe or removed from her - except for one place. The moment it entered his head, Regulus knew he needed his brother. He needed Sirius, someone he could trust and someone who could help him make sense of what had happened. Someone who would not use his pain against him, would understand and would not mock. Someone he had gone crying to before and who always had pieced him back together. When he arrived at the portrait that concealed the Head’s Common Room, only then did he realize he didn’t know the password. Not that it mattered, no one was at home he was informed with no small amount of disapproval by the portrait. Fine. He would wait. What else did he have to do? He sank down against the wall off in the corner. His head rested forward in his hands and there he waited for whoever would find him, so far beyond caring at this point that he wasn’t sure he would blink an eye if it was the mudblood that came back before Sirius. Whoever it was would be able to find his brother and the rest was irrelevent.
Sirius had been having a hell of a week. After the moon, he had still not recovered. His arm was useless, held up in a sling, and his shoulder so badly wounded, especially after the Quidditch match he’d stupidly played in, he couldn’t even hold his wand. He was exhausted, taking to sleeping nine or ten hours a night lately when he was used to maybe four. Madam Pomfrey was doing her best to see him healed, but there wasn’t much know about how to heal werewolf bites that didn’t actually turn you. It was uncharted territory. His wounds before had always been superficial or easy fixes like broken bones. He’d never come so close to dying before, and it left them all scrambling. He’d done his best to try to rest and recover, the idea of permanent damage being too daunting to truly consider though it was a very real possibility the wounds would never fully heal. He headed up earlier than James or Lily that night who were studying late in the library. Midterm exams were coming up and Lily insisted on at least attempting to get something done and James, whipped as he was, had decided to stay with her. Sirius was usually all for these cram sessions, and there were many times he even enjoyed them (especially considering how easy it was to derail them from actually studying), but tonight he left just after dinner. He was worn out and he’d barely done anything at all that day. His steps were slow as he made his way back to their common room, and he tried not to think about how frustrated he was with his predicament. All of that evaporated, however, when he saw the boy sitting on the floor outside the portrait. His heart sank instantly, and his footsteps quickened as much as he could. He’d never seen Regulus like this before, which could only mean something horrible had happened. It didn’t even matter what; he didn’t need to know. All he knew was his baby was hurting and he couldn’t have that. Without so much as a word, Sirius dropped his arm out of the stupid sling, bent down and, with enormous effort he normally would not have needed, gathered his brother in to his arms and lifted him off the floor. Pain ripped through his neck and shoulder where he was injured, but he didn’t care. This was more important. He gave the password, scolding the portrait for not letting his brother inside, and carried him in, not stopping til he was in the room he shared with James. He closed the door behind him with his foot and carried Reggie to bed where he could more easily keep him cradled in his arms. Only once they were settled, his brother enveloped in his embrace, Sirius pressed gentle kisses to his hair. “Talk to me, baby,” he murmured. “I’m here.”
Regulus looked up when he heard the footsteps in the corridor and as much as he wouldn’t have cared if it were Potter or the mudblood, he was relieved and so so glad it was his brother he saw. "Siri,“ he croaked, his voice rough and ragged from disuse and emotion. His eyes were still red, he could tell from the way they stung, and he knew he must look downright frightening to his brother. His face was drawn, his skin tinged almost grey. He was coming apart at the seams and it was painfully obvious to any who saw him, especially Sirius.
"Siri don’t,” he protested half heartedly as the older wizard discarded his sling and used his injured arm to lift his brother. If Regulus weren’t so shattered, he would have fought harder, knowing his brother shouldn’t have been straining his injuries that way but unable to summon up enough fight to point it out. Instead he curled into his brother’s chest as he had when he was a boy, burying his head in the Sirius’ shirt as he was carried through the common room and into the bedroom.
Once they settled on the bed, Regulus didn’t bother to look up. He simply curled into his brother’s protective embrace. It was the only place, especially now, that he felt truly safe and he was desperate for that. His hands clutched his brother’s clothes as if he were afraid the Sirius would disappear if he let go. A part of him, part that remained detached and held the last remnants of Regulus’ sanity, mused that he had held his brother like this not long ago as the older boy had lamented the loss of the woman he loved. Now the tables were turned and if Regulus had thought he had understood Sirius’ pain before, he had been sorely mistaken.
He couldn’t find the words to answer his brother’s plea, shaking his head not to refuse to speak but to try and convey that he couldn’t. He couldn’t find the words to say that his heart was broken. That he loved Emma and she had torn herself from his life, leaving jagged edges behind that cut easily and without discrimination. How could he ever say those words, admit that truth. To say it made it real, if the pain didn’t already, and he didn’t know how. "Emma,“ was all he could manage, the name pulled from his lips with strain that you could hear. And as soon as it left his lips, he lost all control, collapsing into heaving sobs that wracked his body, ribs burning as he struggled for breath.
He’d seen Regulus upset before. He’d seen him cry more times than he could remember, though not really since they were children. Not since Reggie had learned to hide his emotions, push himself away the way so many others in their world were forced to do. He’d thought he hated that mask and wanted it gone, but now that it was, it terrified him to see. To watch a boy he knew defined himself by his self control completely abandon it scared him. He had no idea what could have caused it, and he almost didn’t want to know.
Reggie curled in to his chest and Sirius tightened his hold on him, wincing in pain but disregarding it. He could deal with that later, deal with the pain and the yelling that would follow from everyone who was fussing over him constantly. If they could see his brother now, they’d understand. But that, of course, was the last thing he could allow. Regulus wouldn’t want anyone to see him like this and it was almost an afterthought that he grabbed his wand and used it to lock the door. It was the most magic he’d done all week and that was going to have to be it.
He set down his wand and ran his hand over his brother’s hair and along his back, waiting for something, some sort of explanation, He was given one word, one simple word that explained nothing and everything at once. Sirius had done the same, only uttering Marlene when he was so broken and seeking comfort in his brother’s arms as Reggie was doing now. That was their obvious downfall; the inability to cope with how much they loved and how horribly it hurt when that was gone. He didn’t know much about his brother’s relationship with the Vanity girl, and it had only really been a guess that there had been anything at all. But hearing his brother break down in to sobs confirmed it; whatever had happened, Regulus was in love with her. Nothing short of that would do this to him.
So Sirius, as much as he wanted to, didn’t ask. He rocked his baby in his arms, hushing him and rubbing his back as he cried. He wouldn’t rush it. He’d hold him and let him break as he so obviously needed to, and only when he was ready would Sirius try to piece him back together. He had plenty of guesses about what had happened, and none of them were promising. He just hoped there was some way to fix it, but from the way Reggie was falling apart, he was already sincerely doubting there was.
Later he would be ashamed of this behavior. He was a Black and a Slytherin, meant to be stronger and more self sufficient than this. He should have been rational and logical, should have acknowledged that couples break up and hearts heal. He had dated Emma for, in the grand scheme of things, no real time at all. He was sixteen, it was unlikely he would find the woman he was meant to be with for all time so young, if he ever did at all. Every piece of logic and rationality argued against the behavior he was exhibiting and yet for all his head shouted at him to stop this, his heart could do nothing else.
He was half of himself without her. He was only the cold unfeeling parts she left behind, none of the rest of him was left. Before her, that part of him had been hard to glimpse, seen only on the Quidditch Pitch or when in the company of his family. It was the part of him he associated with Sirius, unrestrained and unrefined. It had never been something he shared with the world at large but Emma had brought out that side of him and even more than that, she had loved it. She loved his wild and untamed smile, the habit he had developed of kissing her knuckles, his sarcasm and his biting wit, his warmth and the way he held her when she was distressed. All things he showed few people, all things he couldn’t bare to do now that he wasn’t doing them with her.
He didn’t know how long he cried, until the sobs had torn his throat to painful shreds and his red rimmed eyes hurt as they bled themselves dry. Finally the sound tearing from his lungs began to fade until it had ceased entirely, the only sound in it’s place his ragged breathing. He allowed himself a little more time to pull himself together, to try and figure out how to explain to Sirius what left him in such a state. It sounded so ridiculous, when you boiled it all down to simple words. His girlfriend broke up with him because they were both to be engaged to others. A problem from a fairytale, not something of real life.
“She is to be betrothed,” he said finally, his voice cracking from the strain his sobs had put on it. The statement would not be surprising, not to Sirius. It was a common fact that those of their blood and birth were often subjects of arranged marriages. “She thought it - proper - that we end things now. Instead of waiting for the news.” His words were clean cut and dry, but the pain that filled them was anything but.
There wasn’t a whole hell of a lot that Sirius knew more about than Regulus, but heartache was one of them. He’d wanted it to stay that way forever, for his baby to somehow escape the pain of that special brand of hell. He had thought Reggie would marry whoever he was given, ad had hoped his mother’s choice in a bride for Regulus would have been as spot on as it had been in the girl she’d chosen for her elder son. He had hoped his brother would be happy, or at least content in the arrangement. Fate, however, evidently had other things in mind.
He held him while he cried and said nothing. He knew better than to ask his brother to talk before he was ready; it was one of the many traits they shared. He rubbed his brother’s back with his good hand, cradling his head gently with his other and tried not to move it too much. He wanted to give Reggie all the time in the world to pull himself together. He wasn’t a patient person, but for this? He could wait as long as was needed.
Regulus’ words didn’t surprise him, but he wished they did. He had hoped those rules and that awful tradition would spare his brother this pain, not cause it. Sirius had been thrilled to see his brother so happy with the Vanity girl. She was a good girl by all accounts, quiet, obedient, calm, collected, and most importantly, pure blooded. She was perfectly suited to his brother, at least so far as he could tell, and he’d never seen Regulus look at anyone quite like that. But there was no doubt that she was of very slightly lesser birth, and in their world it made all the difference.
His heart went out to his brother and he sighed, not sure at all what to say. “Sensible girl,” he mused, though it wasn’t a good thing today. “And you can’t go against it without riskin’ trouble with the family.” He did his best to wipe Reggie’s cheeks dry with his thumb. “Have you considered writin’ to mum? She could step in, stop whatever arrangement your girl’s set up for. You know she’d do it for you.”
Regulus was grateful for the time Sirius gave him to pull himself together, to let himself shatter and break and settle before he was forced to piece himself back into some semblance of himself. Who he was without Emma. It was a comfort to just be with him, someone who wouldn’t push or rush or judge him for the pain he felt. Love his cousins as he did, no one but Sirius was so much of a safe haven. While he trusted Andromeda and Narcissa, neither came close to simply grounding him as Sirius did. He’d never needed that as desperately as he did now.
At Sirius’ words, sensible girl, Regulus couldn’t help the bitter snort that accompanied hearing them. Sensible girl indeed. Sensible girl, logical boy, why was it that when he or Emma or Sirius were being sensible, it was the most painful. The last time he’d heard such a statement had been from Alecto in regards to Sirius’ request of her. It seemed nothing logical was easy. He shook his head in agreement about not being able to go against the family. “I would if she asked,” he admitted. It was a grave admission but he didn’t fear speaking it to his brother. “But she doesn’t want -” he paused, shaking his head again. “She is a perfect daughter of our world,” he finished instead.
“No!” The word was uttered with perhaps more vehemence than was necessary but the idea of going to their mother for this was something he’d considered - and instantly rejected - quickly. He hadn’t spoken to the woman since receiving Sirius’ letter earlier in the year, he didn’t know how he ever could again. He didn’t want to ask her for anything, didn’t want her help. But more than that, he didn’t want Emma that way. “To Emma, this whole tradition is like buying and selling,” he explained, forcing his voice to be even and calm and to put the thought of speaking to his mother out of his mind. “If I were to ask - her - it would be just another business transaction. I don’t want her forced into this, Sirius. Forced to be with me. I can’t do that to her.”
Sirius sighed at the bitter snort Regulus gave him and ran his hand gently through his brother’s hair. He hadn’t meant to make light of the situation, not remotely, and he didn’t want to make it worse. He hated how much pain his brother was in. He wondered for a moment what the rest of Reggie’s sentence might have been when he cut himself off, but it didn’t really matter; he got the idea. “It makes sense she would be. Perfect daughter and perfect son,” he mused. “She must really be somethin’ to catch hold of you the way she has.” He’d honestly never expected anything like this to happen, and while part of him was thrilled it had, if this was how it was going to end, he’d almost rather it hadn’t. He got the distinct impression Regulus had asked her already, but that was something he didn’t want to ask.
He was startled by the sudden fierceness in his brother’s tone. He had no idea how his brother felt about their mother, not really, as it was more negative than his own view of her. He sighed when Regulus explained, and frankly he couldn’t blame the girl for seeing it that way. It really did sound like that when you put it that way, like she was a thing to be bought and sold, and it made him hate the system even more. “She’s going to be forced to be with someone,” he reasoned. “At least you know she cares about you, yeah? And you’d be good to her, wouldn’t you? Course you would, dunno why I asked that. She might not get so lucky with whoever he parents choose. There are worse things, baby. Is it worth losin’ her forever over?”
But of course, Regulus would likely say it was because it seemed to be that this was what the girl wanted. When it came down to it, his brother was just as stubborn as the rest of them, and while he loved having things in common with his brother, this was one of the times he bemoaned it. Already he was trying to think of how to make this work, how to fix this for Reggie if he didn’t want to do it himself. He couldn’t stand by and do nothing, not after seeing how hurt he was. “How important is this girl to you? I can see you care, obviously you care. But if you had the chance to marry her, would you want that?” He doubted this was just some fling, but he wanted to be sure. He had to know before he did anything, so he couldn’t help but ask.
After a lifetime of watching his brother ignore, deny, and outright laugh in the face of bodily injury, Regulus had developed something of a disregard for normal levels of worry for his big brother’s physical well being. If - for instance - his brother were to get hit by a bludger during a Quidditch game and Regulus could hear bones cracking, he wouldn’t worry much because the stubborn git would just get one of his friends to heal it up and would be moving on in a moment. If he ever did get forced into the Hospital Wing, he was usually out again in a matter of hours, not even long enough for the news to reach Regulus let alone for the younger boy to go see him.
So to hear not only that Sirius was in the hospital wing but to find out that a day later that was still the case sparked the protective instincts in Regulus that were rarely piqued by things like this. He knew, though he wanted to go directly to see his brother the moment he heard he was still in hospital, that he had to wait. That it wouldn’t do to shirk his classes to go see the boy no one but Emma and his cousins knew he still spoke to.
He was on rounds that night and it was easy enough to shirk his partner, leaving him free to slip into the Hospital Wing, though it was well outside of visiting hours. He found his brother’s bed with relative ease, using his wand to light a candle sitting on the bedside table. “Siri,” he said in a hushed voice, loathe to wake him if he needed his sleep but also wanting to find out what on earth had happened and knowing this was the only time he could do it.
Sirius could never in his life remember sleeping this much. it was exhausting, and that didn’t make any fucking sense at all. He both hated it and knew he needed it, and that was the only reason he tolerated it. Potions could help regenerate some of his blood, but mostly that took time, and werewolf bites were fucking difficult to heal as they were filled with a venomous magic of their own. The result of it all was that Sirius had to stay fairly still and mostly sedated so his body could work at healing the extensive damage the wolf’s fangs had done. He spent all of the first day in and out of sleep, and the trend continued through his second day in the hospital, which was more than highly unusual. He normally couldn’t stand to be here for more than a few hours, but this was the first time in his life he didn’t fight to leave.
He felt horrible when he woke up and felt stiff, but he still couldn’t move. Poppy had wrapped him up and spelled the bandages in place so he couldn’t move his right arm while he slept, and pillows propped him up to hold him as still as possible. It was awkward, but it was also as comfortable as he could be despite the throbbing pains shooting through him in time with his pulse. He was a little less pale when Regulus came to see him, but not by much.
When the light from the candle shone over him, gentle and unintrusive, Sirius started to stir, but didn’t open his eyes til he heard Reggie’s voice. It took him a moment to find and focus on his face, but when he did, he smiled widely and softly up at him. “Heeeeeeey,” he mumbled. He rubbed at his eyes with his left hand, which was about the only part of him that could move. “There’s my baby.” He sounded as pleased as he possible could through the haze of exhaustion and potions coursing through him. “Whatcha doin’ here baby?”
Even though things between Sirius and Regulus had been better than they had been in a long time this year, Regulus still found himself pleasantly surprised every time Sirius smiled at him that way. Without guards or barriers, a smile that wasn’t trying to be hidden behind propriety and shoulds a shouldn’ts. Regulus returned the smile with one of his own, the kind of expression he didn’t allow himself in the light of day but which he felt no hesitation in wearing now. He chuckled lightly at his brother’s words, recognizing the hazy effects of healing potions in them. “I heard my big brother managed to get himself banged up properly,” he said, the worry he felt conveniently absent from the lighthearted explanation. “What kind of little brother would I be if I didn’t check in on you?” His wide smile softened a bit as he sank into the chair beside Sirius’ bed, relaxing now that Sirius was awake.
Sirius shifted his head as much as he could to turn and look at Reggie when he sat down at his bedside. He groaned softly in pain, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment against the sensation ripping through skin and muscle alike. This moon had not been kind to him and it was taking him far longer to recover than he thought it should. He still felt dizzy and sick from blood loss and the potions kept coming every few hours, making him dizzier and sicker while they fought to patch together the wounds that he knew would never fully heal. He hated it, that they’d always be a constant reminder - not to him but to Remus, and he wanted them gone. He snorted at Reggie’s words as well as his tone. “Yeaaaaaaah well. S’what happens when you get the bad end of a werewolf.” Sirius wasn’t thinking. He wasn’t conscious enough to think. He was so tired and so drugged and in so much pain that it didn’t occur to him to stop and think. This was Reggie, his baby who he trusted above most others. He had no secrets from him, right? That was all he remembered for now, half awake as he was. Had he been aware of himself he’d have been horrified and want to cut out his own tongue. But as it was, the mumbled words went unheeded. “Poppy say’ll be fine, though. Just gotta give it time.”
Regulus had always known that whatever managed to get Sirius confined to the hospital wing for more than a few hours would be something serious. His brother didn’t injure easily, whatever it was likely would have put anyone else in the actual hospital. Never in a million years, though, had Regulus expected the answer he was given. The wrong side of a werewolf? The pain relieving potions Madame Pomfrey was giving Sirius were stronger than Regulus expected and he smirked at the answer his delirious brother had given him. "I expect it would look something like this,“ Regulus indulged, not for a moment believing an actual werewolf had been involved. "Though I always thought it would make one a bit furrier,” he added jokingly, his normally reserved personality always lighter when his brother was around. He’d known Sirius was out of it when he’d seen his wide and hazy smile but now Regulus realized that as concerned as he was and as much as he needed to know what had happened, he would likely have to wait until Sirius was back to his normal self to get a straight answer. The story he’d heard had blamed some kind of animal attack. Leave it to his brother to make up some story about a werewolf.
Sirius nodded. “Mm. Not so pretty under all these dressin’s, little brother. Says it’ll scar somethin’ awful.” He had no idea that Regulus wasn’t taking him seriously, though that was likely for the best in any event. He snorted at the comment he’d made. “Nah, baby. Moon was two nights ago. Y’know, when I got bit? Dunn’t work all the time. D’be awful. Just fuckin’ awful, poor thing’d never get any rest. Naaaah. Not gonna turn or ‘nything like that. Only works if you bite a human, y’know.” He was babbling the way he so very rarely did, but the condition were just right to bring it out of him. He was exhausted, on all sorts of potions, and he trusted Regulus with everything - at least so far as he remembered. It seemed only natural his brother should already know about his animagus form, at least it seemed that way now. He was so out of sorts, however, that he likely wouldn’t even remember this conversation come morning. He turned his head to look at Reggie again and smiled sleepily at him. “M’real glad to see you, baby. Been missin’ you an awful lot lately. Nice of you to come visit.”
Regulus took everything Sirius was saying at face value but he couldn’t ignore the fact that even though he hardly believed the story of a werewolf attack, something magical must have been the reason for Sirius’ injuries. Otherwise, he’d have been healed and out of here in record time. So while he may not be regretting that night time romp every month for the rest of his life, Regulus didn’t doubt that he would certainly scar. “Well, perhaps the scars will make for a good story,” he offered. “Something to impress girls, not that you need help.” His brother rambled on and it only got more confusing as he did. Speaking of werewolves as if they were something he was personally acquainted with, and what was that about biting a human? Regulus chuckled and shook his head. Sirius would get a kick out of his recounting of this when he was back in his right mind. “I miss you too, brother,” he replied, his already hushed voice soft at that admittance. “I’m sorry it takes something so life threatening for us to see each other.” He thought back on all the things this year that had brought them together and grimaced. He wished for once he was visiting his brother without the sinister undertones. “You should rest. Can’t have you missing the game on Monday because you claim you’re too injured. I’ll know the truth, you’re just scared to face us.”
Sirius shook his head as much as he could manage. “Nah… Gotta try to hide ‘um with the rest of ‘um. He gets real upset seein’ he hurt me. Jimmy’s real good with glamour spells now.” He snorted at his brother’s assessment about not needing help with girls. “I got a girl, y’know. Don’t need to impress her.” Sirius looked up, dropping it more heavily against his pillow to look at him better. He reached his hand over toward Regulus, silently asking him to take it. It wasn’t much, but the touch was a comfort he wanted, though he wouldn’t directly ask in case his brother didn’t want to give it. “S’okay. You’re here, baby. S’what matters. Don’t much matter why.” He made a face at the reminder of the game. “Nn…. Jim won’t want me to play. Probably will anyway. Y’know how hard it is, holdin’ a bat with an injured arm? Let alone fuckin’ hittin’ those heavy fuckin’ things. Catch the snitch quick, will you? Doubt our seeker can manage. It’d be nice to get it over with, since it doesn’t count for much anyway.” His eyes felt unfocused, so he closed them and sighed softly through his nose. “Never been so tired in my life, Reggie. There’s poison in it, keeps me from healin’. Dunno what all she’s given me either. Just so tired of sleepin’.”
Face value was one thing but the way Sirius was talking, it was as if he knew whatever beast had attacked him. Even if it was a werewolf, how could he possibly know it? Regulus forced himself to remember that his brother had never mixed well with potions and that everything he was saying was likely nonsense, but the part of him that needed an answer or an explanation for everything still wasn’t completely satisfied. “Even once you have a girl you should always try to impress her,” the younger wizard pointed out. When Sirius reached his hand over, Regulus didn’t even hesitate before he took it. His hand wrapped tightly around his brother’s, his always carefully manicured expression softening at Sirius’ words. “I’ll stay as long as you need,” he promised. “I know how much you hate being stuck here.” A small smirk appeared on his lips as his brother spoke about the Quidditch game but - if they were all being truthful - if this injury would still be a problem by then, though he’d never heard of an injury Poppy Pomfrey couldn’t heal right up, Regulus was in agreement with James Potter for the first time in his life. Sirius was in no shape to play. Not, of course, that would stop him. “I’ll catch it right off, brother,” Regulus promised, his words lighter than their intention. He wouldn’t let the game go on a second longer than Sirius could handle. “Go to sleep, big brother. You’ll never heal if you don’t rest.”
From the outside, it would be hard to believe that the Blacks were a particularly close family. It was true that Regulus and Narcissa spent inordinate amounts of time together but to the public eye, the Black brother’s rarely ever spoke and Regulus’ relationship with Andromeda was friendly at best. It was, perhaps, because Regulus went to great lengths to keep himself at a distance from most people. The people he cared for the most were rarely the ones he made a fuss over in public.
Which is why no one else would have noticed the way Andromeda had been acting odd, nor would they see the way it worried Regulus. Unlike his brother, though, Regulus was rarely one to push where his presence was not requested, and so it took several weeks and a serious level of worry for him to approach his older cousin to find out what was troubling her.
He took advantage of the lazy Sunday to find her at breakfast, slipping onto the bench beside her and lazily taking a piece of toast as he kissed her cheek in greeting. “Come for a walk with me,” he suggested, loathing the idea of hving any real conversation here where so many could over hear. “It’s likely the last of the decent weather outside and I feel like I’ve not seen you in ages.”
Her fork made a dull scraping sound as she pushed it around on her barely touched plate of fruit. Ever since her talk (or breakdown, more like) with Sirius, more and more thoughts; dangerous, but wanted thoughts pushed themselves into her mind. She’d never felt more alone in her entire life, and knew very well that her inner conflicts were starting to bleed through the foundations of her once-impenetrable wall that she’d tried so hard to maintain and keep standing tall.
Ted had already noticed it a few times, but somehow, she’d remained firm in her denial of there being any kind of problem. This was something she needed to figure out on her own, and considering the Hufflepuff was a huge factor in said problem, she needed to keep him out of the equation for a while until she worked everything out, even though it was getting harder and harder to do so.
Andromeda, so far gone into her own musings, nearly jumped right out of her skin when she felt someone suddenly come in and take the seat next to her, but at realizing that is was only her cousin, Regulus, she relaxed somewhat. His rather abrupt request left her rather confused, but nonetheless, she readily obliged and stood from the table. “Sure,” she said, voice soft as she made to follow him out of the Great Hall. It had been quite some time since she’d last seen him, it seemed, which was more than just sad, considering they were from the same house, not to mention family. But, that was more of her issue at hand, wasn’t it? “Is everything okay?”
Regulus hadn’t realized how lost in her thoughts his cousin was until he sat beside her. True he hadn’t done much in the way of announcing his presence but he hadn’t snuck up on her either. Nonetheless, she jumped as he sat beside her and he made note of the anxiety he saw leaving her fave as she relaxed when she saw who had joined her. Like many things, he filed it away as just another reason he was glad they would talk, another reason he’d decided to check in with her in the first place. As they meandered out of the great hall and out into the cool crisp fall air, Regulus slipped his hands into his pockets, his stride almost lazy as they moved further and further away from overly curious ears. "I was aiming to ask you the same thing,“ he said honestly in response to her question. "Perhaps I’m wrong or am misreading things but it seems you’ve been acting - odd - lately,” he continued. "Maybe not odd,“ he backpedaled, knowing that wasn’t the right word. "But not - yourself. Is something the matter?”
“Odd?” Andromeda echoed incredulously, schooling her features into a look of honest puzzlement, despite the nervousness that was balling itself in the pit of her stomach. Regulus had alway been incredibly intuitive, and never had she loathed that about her cousin so much as she did in that moment. But, she was quite adapt at keeping her cool and holding up a strong, Black-worthy facade when things got difficult, and even if she may have been faltering somewhat in that department as of late, she wasn’t going to let it fall completely, especially not in front of him. “I appreciate your concern, Reg, but I promise you, I’m fine,” she lied effortlessly, and even shot him a gentle smile in reassurance. “Classes have been taking somewhat of a toll, I suppose. Maybe that’s what you’ve been noticing?”
Observation was a great skill of Regulus’, he’d always been the type more prone to silently watching than making enough of a fuss to be watched. He’d always left that to Sirius, preferring instead to observe and learn what he could silently. Especially with those he had grown up with, he liked to think he knew them well enough to see through their masks. He’d always excelled at this with Narcissa, he rarely was wrong when it came to reading her. He had once thought to be an expert on Sirius as well, though things hadn’t been the same since his brother left home. Andromeda, though someone he loved, had always been someone he’d found harder to read and he wondered if now he’d seen more than was truly there to see. “Perhaps,” he said as she suggested maybe it was classes that were the cause of the strain he thought he saw. “Andy, you know I love you,” he added after a moment. “I hope you know that if anything ever were bothering you, you could come to me. Whatever it was.” Regulus was more than familiar with how hard it was in their family to feel things that might not be accepted. While some might not be so willing to listen with and open mind, Regulus always was when it came to his cousins.
“I know,” she murmured softly. “I love you, too, Reggie.” But Andromeda knew, no matter how much it pained her to do so, that — no, she couldn’t come to him with her problems, not now, if ever. Regulus had been so broken when Sirius had left their family all those years ago. What would he think if he were to discover that she had been having stirrings of the same exact desire as of late? Would he tell her mother and father? Her sisters? Would he himself scorn her? Hate her? Those very glaring and very real possibilities were entirely why she’d kept herself silent for as long as she had, and would continue to do so. The risks were far too high, and she was still too afraid of pushing for it, and the outcome that could be for her in the end. “You know I appreciate that more than I could ever possibly say, but believe me, I’m fine. I promise. You needn’t worry about me,” she said, her hand reaching out to gently rest at his arm.
Despite her assurances, Regulus still felt like something was amiss, but he wasn’t going to push her to confide in him. If she needed him, he had to believe she would come to him. Though he wasn’t always the most obvious when it came to matters such as this, Regulus’ family was the single most important thing to him, and he hoped Andy knew that came before anything else. Even he and Sirius had managed to fix things after his brother left. And if they could over come that, nothing Andy would tell him would change things between them. He smiled softly at her promise, moving to take her hand on his arm and wrap his fingers around hers. “I’ll always worry about you,” he pointed out, the tone in his voice light and playful, but the words sincere. “You’re family, after all. That you are happy is the single most important thing to me.” He knew she knew that but he felt the need to point it out. If she wouldn’t confide in him, the least he could do was assure her that he would always be there for her. Not matter what.
The feeling of his hand gently curling around hers was a comfort she wasn’t even aware that she needed right then, but accepted gladly. These were the instances where his keen observational talents were much more preferred. “And here I thought I was the worrier out of all of us,” she chimed quietly, a tiny, but real laugh falling from her lips as she met his smile, some of the guilt and fear settling down at the reliving sight. Whereas Sirius tended to push and prod, Regulus was the complete opposite, and after her fallout with the aforementioned Gryffindor a few weeks ago, this was like a wonderful breath of fresh air. “I am happy,” she assured him, and this time, it wasn’t a lie. Here with him now, she was happy, and taking a few steps in toward him, she wrapped her arms around his waist, and pulled him into a gentle embrace, hoping to covey to him how much she really did love him, what his care and concern meant to her.
He chuckled a bit at her words, glad to hear the laugh that fell from her lips and to see her smile. Though he said it lightly, he had been worrying about her and it was good to see her spirits lift, if even for this small span of time. “I wouldn’t call me the worrier,” he qualified, “Just - protective. Growing up with you and Sirius, can you blame me?” Sirius and Andromeda had always looked out for him and Narcissa, they were perfect protective role models and Regulus had learned much from them. Now that they were all older, well close to grown, he was just as protective of them as they had once been and still were of him. That had come out in full force with Sirius this term, though that wasn’t exactly common knowledge even to Andromeda. When she confirmed that she was happy, that was enough for Regulus. At least for now. He wrapped his arms around her as she stepped into them. He would accept her answer - after all he couldn’t force her to confide in him - but it didn’t mean he would stop keeping an eye out for her.
“No. I guess I can’t,” she said with an affectionate shake of her head, her mind shifting back to memories that seemed almost a lifetime ago: when she and Sirius would follow Narcissa and Regulus around like the little mother hens that they were, making sure that their younger siblings didn’t go off and get themselves into too much trouble. It was no wonder that, after all that, Regulus would both come to be the same towards them years later. Narcissa was the exact same, even if she didn’t always show it outright. Despite their reputation as a cold-hearted, distant family, they truly were anything but. They cared immensely about one another, which only made her reluctance to speak about about her current woes that much stronger. She didn’t want to lose her family; she didn’t want to lose the connections and trust she had with them, and it nearly tore her up inside to merely even think of such a thing happening. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Reg,” she whispered, her thoughts propelling her words forward without much preamble. It might have been somewhat out of place to say that right then, but to Andromeda, there couldn’t have been a more fitting time.
The words she spoke int he protective circle of his arms caused him to raise an eyebrow, though he didn’t for a moment loosen his hold on her. He didn’t like thinking about it, life without Andromeda - or any of his family for that matter. While it wasn’t something most sixteen year olds thought about, the Black family wasn’t naive to the way the winds were blowing and Regulus knew the scenario was a very real possibility. After all, he was already trying to live without Sirius, or with a very strained version of what their relationship had once been like. But while the possibility always hung over their heads, there was no reason for Andromeda to actually anticipate life without him. Not that he knew of, anyway. “You’ll never have to find out,” he promised her, his voice sure. He thought of Sirius and frowned a bit, glad Andy couldn’t see his face as an unbidden and unpleasant thought entered his mind. “No matter what happens or where you are, I promise you that.” He added it as another reassurance against a possibility he’d never considered before and didn’t want to consider now. But if Andy ever followed in Sirius’ footsteps, he wanted her to know that it would not be the same. That he’d learned enough from losing Sirius, and even more from finding him again, to know that he’d not make that mistake again. Not with her.
Emma was annoyed at being fussed over. She didn’t want to go to the hospital. She did not care that her arm was broken. She’d scored a goal with her other arm almost immediate after it had hit, what did it matter? Her adrenaline was pumping and she wanted to celebrate, not be seen to. It was only the worry plainly written in Reggie’s face that made her agree, huffy though she was. She thought it could wait. Her arm was in a sling and everything at least but he wouldn’t hear of it. She’d had worse, but it didn’t matter. Ah well.
But Regulus. She could hardly keep from throwing herself at him the moment the game was won. He’d won it for them by catching the snitch and Merlin did she want him alone. Another plus in agreeing to him escorting her to the hospital. She was bouncing as they walked despite the pain it caused, and the moment she was sure they were alone, she stopped trying to hold it in. She turned to him, grabbed him with her good hand, shoved him up against the nearest wall and kissed him very, very hard.
Don’t get him wrong, Regulus was thrilled they’d won the match. They’d been losing and they’d come back from that as he caught the snitch. Slytherin pride surged through him at the fact that he could say he won the game for the house and he would celebrate that with the rest of his friends and housemates for the rest of the night. As soon, of course, as Emma’s arm was no longer bloody broken. Less than ten seconds had passed on the pitch between the Bludger making crushing contact with Emma’s arm and Regulus’ fist closing around the tiny golden snitch. Less than a minute later he was on the ground rushing for her.
It was a battle of wills getting her to agree to go to the hospital, a battle of self to keep himself from smiling and how happy she was to have won the game and how stubbornly she refused to care about her injury. It was only when he’d threatened to carry her there that she’d agreed to go willingly. They’d barely made it into the castle, and then to the first empty corridor, when he felt her grab him. And then his back was shoved against the wall and she was kissing him and for the first time in possibly his entire life, he couldn’t think. Luckily it didn’t take thought to wrap his arms around her, ever careful of her arm, and to kiss her back. He kissed her until he needed to pull back lest he stop breathing and when he did, he pulled his lips out of her reach, to avoid temptation. “We’re supposed to be getting your arm fixed,” he said breathlessly, the words lacking meaning as he didn’t move to release his hold on her.
Regulus Black was a stubborn piece of shit. But damn he was a good kisser. She felt like laughing but that would mean tearing away from his lips, and that was the last thing she could ever possibly want. The fact that he was sliding his arms around her and kissing her back just as fiercely only encouraged her. She’d thought she couldn’t feel a greater thrill than winning her first game as captain, but she was so very, very wrong. Nothing had made her feel more alive than kissing him and that wasn’t a feeling she was ready to tear herself away from despite the pain shooting down her broken arm. All she could think was she ought to have done this sooner, but of course she wouldn’t have. She was a different person entirely on the pitch, and this was one of the rare times it carried over once the game ended. She felt real and unrestricted and Merlin was she glad that had lasted long enough to get them here.
She tried to chase his lips when he pulled away and laughed, her eyes dancing with mirth when he didn’t let her. “Regulus!” she protested. She grinned up at him. “It’ll still be there in a minute. Quit fussing and kiss me.”
He’d never expected her to kiss him like this, certainly hadn’t ever expected her to be the one to kiss him first. Most of the time, they were reserved around one another. Holding hands to them was as intimate as snogging was to most others. They were a different sort and they were fine with that. But when the adrenaline fueled rush of quidditch took her over, it seemed, reservation was the last thing on her mind. And Merlin was he glad for that. She kissed him wildly and he kissed her back just the same. He chuckled when she protested, chasing his lips in hopes to recapture them and only failing because he was taller and thus she couldn’t reach.
“It’s not supposed to be there in a minute,” he pointed out, smirking at the protest in her voice. He’d never seen her like this before. He would be lying if he said he didn’t like it. He was torn now. The part of him that wanted to protect her from anything and everything wanted to see her healed and fast, but the part of him that was thoroughly enjoying this version of Emma was hesitant to waste any of that fire on simply walking to the infirmary. “I’ll kiss you again when you can use both arms to throw me against the wall, how about that?” he bargained, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“I don’t bloody care what it’s supposed to be!” she shot back, laughing again. “It’s hardly killing me, now is it? It’s been like this a quarter of an hour already, a little more won’t make it worse.” Her eyebrows shot up at his attempt to bargain with her. “First of all, I scored our last goal left handed. Second of all, I’ve already thrown you against the wall and you hardly seem to be protesting. I am not made of glass, Reggie. If I pass out from the pain, you’ve my full permission to carry me hence, but until then–” She broke off and grabbed the collar of his shirt with her other hand, yanking him back down. Taller height be damned, she wasn’t done with him yet. She kissed him again, standing on her toes to manage it but it worked.
Emma didn’t do this. She never broke that wall of reservation, not for anyone outside the game. This was highly improper and unacceptable and she did not care. She wanted this, wanted him and she’d be damned if she didn’t get it, at least while she was still unpromised. She couldn’t help it, not right now. She’d likely be horrified later but she also knew it would be next to impossible not to be so open and so much herself with him again. She grinned wildly when she pulled back from him. “See? I hardly need you to kiss me. I am perfectly capable of getting what I want on my own.”
He laughed at her rant, chuckled at the fire in her eyes and the passion in her voice right up until she yanked his face back down to hers and kissed him again. This time he could think but he chose not to, kissing her again and lifting her a bit to make his face easier for her to reach. Regulus had more self control than most people. He hardly ever lost control of himself, gave into urges and temptations. But Regulus, for all the control that he prided himself on, was still just a sixteen year old boy with a massive crush on the girl kissing him right now.
It was her wild grin that did it. When she pulled away again, he strugged to catch his breath, to make another argument for the hospital wing in his head, but then she grinned and spoke and he changed his mind. “If that’s what you want, then,” he said instead. His hold on her shifted and in an instant he turned. This time it was her back pressed roughly against the wall, care taken to avoid her broken arm but only the barest amount. One hand twisted in her hear as his lips claimed hers again, this time doing the demanding as he used his hand in her hair to press their faces closer together. “You stubborn -” he muttered against her lips between kisses “-beautiful-” more kisses “-brilliant witch!”
She loved it when he laughed. It was the only really solid thought in her head as she kept kissing him. She never wanted to stop kissing him. She couldn’t have said what possessed her to do this, but she’d never regret this decision in the least, she knew that right then and there. Maybe it was stupid and she knew it would only cause them both pain later on, but fuck if this wasn’t the best thing she’d ever felt. Propriety be damned, this shouldn’t ever stop as far as she was concerned.
She squealed in the midst of her laughter, caught off guard by him grabbing her and pinning her this time. She was about to tell him it was very much what she wanted, but his lips were on hers again and frankly, nothing else in the world mattered much. His hand tangled in her hair, wild and unpinned from flying, and it made her reconsider ever pinning it up again where he couldn’t reach it. She slid her working arm around his neck and pressed as close to him as she could. She nearly protested every time he broke away to speak, but his words left her giddy. All of this did. “You wouldn’t have it any other way,” she shot back when he stopped kissing her to breathe. “Now hush.” She laughed and kissed him again, grinning against his lips while trying to compel him to stop pulling away from her.
The longer he kissed her, the harder it was to remember why he hadn’t before. Why he wasn’t always kissing her. Why in this moment specifically he’d wanted her to do something else. He kissed her and she pressed against him and he had no desire to ever move from this spot for the rest of his life. This Emma, this fiery and wild girl in his arms, made his blood boil and his heart pound and he had one very clear thought in his mind as he kissed her. He was falling in love with her.
It was a stupid thought to have, since they could never be more than this. He would be promised to someone soon, as would she, and he would have to let her go. He’d always known it and he’d never thought it would be too hard but now he knew, it would be impossible. Luckily, none of that crossed his mind as her arm wrapped around his neck and her lips captured his once again as she told him to hush.
He let the kiss go on a bit longer and only remembered his original goal when he was overcome with the urge to whisk her away to the dorms. With great effort he pulled his lips from hers, untangling his hand from her hair and using it and his other arm to hold her at arm’s distance from him. “Hospital wing,” he managed breathlessly. “Get your arm fixed. Then I’ll hush.” He stepped away from her, knowing that the longer he touched her even to hold her at bay, the harder it would be to keep his lips from hers.
Emma knew this wouldn’t last. She knew it deep in her bones and she didn’t care. She couldn’t care because he was perfect. She knew he had flaws and imperfections as much as anyone else, but she couldn’t imagine anyone more perfectly suited to her. He was withdrawn and refined when he needed to be, proper and poised like he was meant to be, but beneath it all was this. He was as fiery as she was and she could be this with him. She could be herself even for just a little while and he wouldn’t judge her for it. More than that, he reciprocated it. They hid themselves from the whole world because they had to but this right here proved it didn’t have to be so bad.
She couldn’t decide if it was agony to be pushed away from him or if it was agony to let her arm stay broken and she settled on both. Her face was flushed and she was breathing heavily, her eyes more set on his lips than any other part of his face. She couldn’t help it. She’d never in her life let herself do this before and now that she had, she couldn’t begin to imagine stopping. Still, if getting herself patched up meant she got to get back to snogging him - and whatever else they wanted to do, really - then she’d do it. But only to get him to stop fussing.
“Fine,” she agreed impatiently. “Fine.” She stepped away as well and brushed her hair back from her face, attempting to tame it in what little ways she could without a brush and her other hand. Now that she was away from him the pain was becoming more evident and she felt mildly dizzy. She’d had worse from previous games, but broken bones were never fun. She turned and started walking, but her eyes were on him instead of the corridor ahead. “I’ll hold you to it, you know,” she informed him.
He was glad she didn’t fight him this time, he wasn’t sure his self control could stand another round. As she reached up to tame her hair, he wished she wouldn’t. He loved watching it cascade in wild curls around her shoulders, unpinned and uncared for after whipping about in the wind. He wanted to kiss her again, wanted it so bad he ached. He wanted to hold her tight to him, kiss her lips and her jaw, down to her neck. Wanted to hear that wild laugh in her throat, to feel her frantic breathing as they shared breath between kisses. He wanted a million different things and had she argued with him, he wouldn’t have been able to deny them.
As it was, he smirked at her words, taking another step away as a wave of temptation crashed over him. “I would despair if you didn’t,” he said, his words echoing ones he’s muttered on their date. He gave her a wink and then turned to walk to the hospital wing, not looking to see if she followed. They walked the whole way there like that, on opposite ends of the corridor for safety’s sake. He itched to put his hand on the small of her back as they walked and instead shoved his hands in his pockets, fingers curled into frustrated fists. News of her injury had reached the hospital wing before them and they’d all but walked in before Madame Pomfrey was whisking her away behind a curtain to fix her arm.
She laughed again, her head tipped back at his words. “Damn right you would,” she shot back at him. “But as I’m terribly against despair, you might just be in luck.” Today, she decided, was one of the best days she’d ever had, and it still only had miles more to go. She glanced over and watched him shove his hands in his pockets and she knew what it meant. It meant he was dying to use them and was refraining, but Merlin she wanted him to. She ached for his hands to be back on her already, for his lips, for his warmth. She wanted him desperately but this had to come first and get out of the way. Having to force herself away from him was the worst part of this injury by far.
As soon as she entered, she was pulled away and sat down on a bed to be healed. It didn’t take long even with the multiple fractures (and Emma was grumbling about how frustrating elbows were). She was given some kind of tonic and drank it without so much as asking what it was. It tasted acidic and strong but it helped clear her head. The instantly she was given leave to go - and the five minutes she’d been detained was far too long if you asked her - she was all but bolting back out of bed.
She grabbed Reggie’s arm as she walked past him, dragging him out with her with shouted thanks to Madam Pomfrey over her shoulder as she went. She flexed her arm, testing it, though she hadn’t expected any pain. Poppy knew what she was doing. Once they were far enough away, she turned to him again and grinned. “Are you going to shut up now? Or do I need to make you?”
It was the longest five minutes of his life, of that he was beyond sure. He paced in the empty waiting area, hands still in his pockets though she wasn’t there anymore to tempt him. He kept glaring at the door through which she’d disappeared as if it were entirely to blame for keeping her from him. In those five minutes, he tried to screw his head back on straight. Tried to regain some tiny shred of self control. He wanted her so much, not only to kiss her but to have his hands on her, to feel her body against his…
A million things he shouldn’t want. He wasn’t her betrothed, wasn’t her husband. She deserved more than that, more than something heated and impulsive that she’d regret when it was over. He tried to convince himself of that as he waited for her. And when she emerged, he tried to find the words to tell her that, but before he had the chance she was dragging him down the corridor. When they finally stopped, he was gong to tell her, tell her they couldn’t do this. But then she spoke. And fuck if he didn’t want her to make him.
And so he smirked, took her hand in his and this time it was he doing the dragging. He found the first empty classroom he could, pulling her inside and sparing only the briefest moment to magically and physically lock the door before his wand was dropped forgotten on the floor and she was in his arms again. He used the wall as he had before, pinning her against it, his lips close enough to kiss but refusing to do it. “I’m starting to want you to make me,” he finally answered, his voice thoroughly teasing now as he kept his lips just out of her reach.
She knew she wasn’t his, and would probably never be. It was a fool’s hope to think maybe her parents has somehow managed to win over Walburga Black, but who was she kidding? She knew as well as he did it wouldn’t happen. She wanted it to desperately, had always wanted it to be him as long as she could remember. She couldn’t think of anyone she was more likely to find happiness with than Regulus, and the longer they played this game the firmer that idea was planted in to her head. And she wanted. She wanted to give herself to him, to be his regardless of what their families said. She’d never defy her family and she knew he wouldn’t either, but she was starting to see that Regulus wasn’t a part of her that could be taken away.
His smirk made her feel momentarily weak at the knees but he was dragging her away and that wasn’t the moment to stop being able to stand. He locked the door and she was grateful - all bets were off today and she knew it as well as he seemed to. A second later he had her pinned against the wall again and fuck. That was all she could think with his teasing, damn him. But two could play this game and she didn’t like to lose. “If you insist, darling.”
She reached up and tangled both her hands in his hair, pulling him down almost roughly with her impatience. She kissed him just as hard as she had before, only this time it was heated. She didn’t have to be careful of her arm and the pain it could cause. As much as she enjoyed being shoved against walls, she wanted to be pressed to him more. She pushed against him, away from the wall and in to his arms and she had the distinct feeling that she belonged there. Of course that was ridiculous; she belonged to no one. But if it had been anyone, she’d gladly let it be him.
He needed to wait only a second before she kissed him again and when she did he threw all his caution to the wind. He was tired of fighting his own desires, tired of trying to do what was right and expected and polite all the damn time. There was nothing he wanted more in the world right now than to kiss her, to let her kiss him, to give her exactly what she wanted and then more. When she pushed away from the wall and into him, his arms wrapped tightly around her, pressing her to him so every curve of her body was flush with every plane of his. Heat flared at every point of contact and only served to make him want her even closer, though he was very sure that was impossible.
He wanted better access to her mouth, though, and to her jaw and neck beyond it. Hands that had wrapped around her waist lifted her now so her head was at the same level as his. He could kiss her better now, could explore her mouth with his own. He used the wall again, this time to help him hold her up and keep her chest pressed as flush with his as she’d made it. While one hand held her up, the other pressed flat to the back of her neck, angling her head to give him better access as he began to trail kisses across her jaw down to her neck.
Touching him like this made her feel like she was on fire in ways she’d never felt before, not like this. She felt dizzy and she didn’t think it was just from lack of oxygen, though that certainly only encouraged the feeling. His arms around her was the best feeling she was sure she’d ever felt, and she molded herself to him as best she could. It was almost a relief when he picked her up off the floor, though why that word fit she had no idea how to explain. She wrapped her legs around his waist, both arms around his neck to anchor herself.
She leaned her head back when his mouth moved away from hers. Her breath was ragged and heavy, but she didn’t want to catch it. She leaned in to his touch, craved it wherever she could get it. One of her hands knotted in his short hair, her eyes slipping closed. She let out a heavy sigh as his lips trailed across her skin, not quite a moan but something very close to it. She couldn’t explain how much she wanted this, not even to herself had her head been screwed on straight which she wasn’t sure it was. But she was tired. She was exhausted of acting like she wasn’t sixteen and hungry for life and she felt that same need to burst in him, and it made her not want to stop him.
A million things told him that this was a bad idea. She wasn’t just another girl, wasn’t a warm body to press against, to have fun with while he was young and unspoken for. Being with her meant something, every moment he spent in her presence meant something. It stirred inside him, warming him from the inside out, and he’d been feeling it more and more ever since that afternoon in the owlery. To be with her would have repercussions, consequences, and he knew he should care about them but she exhaled almost loudly and he didn’t care at all. All he cared about was wanting to give voice to that release of breath, he wanted to pull a moan from her lips. He didn’t know why, where the need came from, but there it was, louder than any rational thought he had. His lips and teeth dragged over her skin, finding the place just beneath her ear where her neck hollowed out and nipping at the skin there, his tongue soothing over stinging that would mark in the morning.
She would have loved to say the sound that left her mouth as his teeth raked over her skin was voluntary, but it wasn’t. She couldn’t help it. Emma was not the kind of person to ever forget herself, not even for a moment, but the solace she took from this was that this was herself, just not the prim and proper distant self she was with everyone else. He mattered to her, he had for years, and that they were doing this - whatever this was - meant everything to her. She moaned, the sound soft but very clear in the otherwise silent room. Her grip on him tightened and she pushed herself closer, arching against him. She pressed her face against him, her heated breath against his ear. One of her hands left his hair to trail down the back of his neck, her fingertips dancing along his nape, slipping just under his collar. She wanted to touch him, to feel his skin under her hands and she was fairly certain being denied that would drive her mad.
He wanted to touch her, to move his hands over her, but holding her as he was his hands were trapped. He wouldn’t deny that this position left little to be desired, the feeling of pressing against her, hips locked, chest to breasts, lips to lips, but his hands longed to roam over her back, to toy with the edges of her shirt, to feel what bit of skin his fingers could manage to find. Her moan, very clear and distinctive this time, only urged him on. His hands settled under her thighs, bearing her weight as he carried her to the professor’s desk at the front of the room, settling her on the edge. His hands free now, He took the movements of her finger as suggestions, letting his quidditch cloak slip off his shoulders before pulling his lips from her skin long enough to pull his jersey over his head, dropping it to the ground. It hadn’t settled on the stone before his arms were around her again, his lips reclaiming hers as his hands finally began to roam.
He carried her away from the wall and sat her down, and for a moment she didn’t realize she was on the teacher’s desk. She honestly couldn’t have cared less. He pulled away from her after a moment and she started to protest, but it died in her throat the moment he started pulling off his robe. Her eyes wandered very openly when he pulled his shirt over his head, but she didn’t get to stare at him for long. He was kissing her again a second later and she dove back in to it with abandon. Her arms slid around him, her hands tracing every line and curve of his back she could find and that alone was enough to push her farther. She had never thought that touching someone in even the simplest of ways would be so addicting, but she didn’t think she could get enough of him. His hands on her were maddening. She pulled him closer to her, pressing flush against him again and deepened the kiss as much as she could, grabbing desperately for air around it, but finding her interest in breathing at all dwindling if it meant pulling away from him.
Her hands trailed over the now bare skin of his back and every place her fingers touched sent chills running over his spine. He’d kissed girls before, held them and felt their skin on his, but nothing compared to this. To her. He didn’t know what it was about her, what was different or better, but something connected him to her in a way he’d never felt before. Maybe it was the adrenaline from the match or the way she’d been so adamant to kiss him before even her arm was healed. Or maybe it was just that Regulus had never felt so strongly for someone before in his life. Whatever it was, though, it spurred him on and made every point of contact between them electric and inescapable. The hands that held her trailed down her back now as well, finding the edge of her shirt and tangling his fingers in the fabric. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered hoarsely against her lips, unwilling to pull away but knowing that if she didn’t stop him now, his control would be lost. The words sounded like a demand, but his voice made his meaning clear. He wanted her to be ready, to be sure, to be in control. Because he cared for her so, because he didn’t want her to regret anything that happened between them, he forced his hands to still, even if his lips didn’t. He knew her well enough to assume that they’d soon be entering territory she’d never traveled before, if they hadn’t already. His feelings for her were matched only by the respect he held for her and he had no intention of doing anything she did not want or was not ready for, no matter how much he longed to feel her skin pressed against his skin.
Emma didn’t do this. She didn’t throw herself in to things that led to indiscretion, but that was clearly where this path was leading them. She didn’t stray from her strict propriety, not ever, but with Regulus somehow everything was different. She felt freer with him, more allowed to be the person she wanted to be instead of who she had to be. It was intoxicating in so many ways, but at the same time she knew what she was doing. She knew full well what she was getting herself in to, at least as much as she could, and she didn’t want to stop. She had every chance to turn back and put an end to this, he offered it to her freely, but she refused to take it. She shook her head very minutely at his words, her lips brushing against his. “No,” she whispered back. “I don’t want you to stop.” She wanted to do this with him, to feel his hands on her, to feel everything he wanted to give her. She’d thought the idea would be terrifying and wrong, but it wasn’t. Not today and not with him. She took his hands and guided them up the back of her shirt, pressing his palms against her skin before she wound her arms around him again. She wrapped her legs around his hips, pressing as close to him as she could, and kissed him again, a little slower now but more passionate than before. She wanted it, and he couldn’t talk her out of it.
He would only ask once, he only needed to. To the casual observer, they were just two teenagers caught up in a moment and to an extent perhaps that was true. But Regulus knew himself, knew his mind and his needs and his wants, knew what he was ready for. And he knew Emma did as well. She said she didn’t want him to stop and she knew what he was asking. He knew what she was offering. And, Gods, he’d never wanted anything as much as he’d wanted exactly that answer. His lips matched the slower pace of her kiss but at her permission, the intensity behind it was grew. He savored the kiss, reveling in the touch of her soft lips and the way she tasted. His hands, tangled in her shirt, moved now to pull it off over her head. His lips left hers only as long as it took to pass the shirt off and he quickly reclaimed them. His hands pressed now to her newly exposed skin, fingers splayed over her back, traveling with touches equally desperate and gentle over her spine.
Emma wanted it more than she could explain, though there was still a moment when he pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor. She shivered when her bare skin was exposed. She was grateful he didn’t give her the chance to look away, to blush out of shame or modesty. She all but forgot it with the feeling of his hands caressing her spine and she melted in to his touch. She matched his intensity instantly, kissing him in a way she’d never thought she could. She tangled both her hands in his hair, pressing more tightly against him. She felt heat covering her skin, collecting in places she wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with, but had never experienced before like this. Her breathing got heavier, and the kiss turned heated again though it was just as unhurried as before. She’d made up her mind and didn’t want to rush it. This might be their only time together and she was determined to remember every second of it.
Regulus was not a stranger to this act. But even though this was not the first time he’d done this, it felt as if his hands had never felt skin so smooth and warm, his lips had never tasted something or someone so sweet and perfect. Every one of his senses kicked into overdrive to drink in all that was Emma Vanity and he longed for more. One of his hands trailed up her back, coming to rest at the base of her skull, tangling in her hair and cradling her head as he dragged his lips from hers to her jaw and then the place where jaw and neck met. His other arm wrapped tightly around her, pressing their bodies close together for the first time now that so much less fabric separated them. He felt the heat from her skin and knew she could feel it from his. Every move, eager as they were, was almost reverent, rushing nothing and savoring every moment when Emma was his and the rest of the world could fall away.
She pressed against him, his chest warm against her skin. She leaned in to his touch, tilting her head when his hand tangled in her hair. Her eyes fluttered shut when his lips pressed against her neck, and her fingertips pressed harder against his scalp. As close as they were, it wasn’t enough. None of this was enough, she wanted more. She was terrified of wanting more, of needing him so much, but she couldn’t think of a single reason to pull away. Logic and reason flew out the window every time he touched her and she didn’t want it back. Emma shifted to lie back on the desk and pulled Regulus down with her so he was pressed on top of her, his weight more than welcome as he settled there. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and shifted to fit her hips against his, aching for every point of contact she could find.
Every time their bodies shifted and a new point of contact emerged, he felt the electricity run through his body. He let her guide him back, moving to prop himself on the desk above her. His hand that had tangled in his hair moved now to rest against the hard wood of the desk, his forearm pressed against it so his body could press down on hers. His free hand moved now to trail over her side, moving from the edge of her bra to the edge of her pants and back again, leaving no skin untouched. His lips mimicked the action, traling kisses edged with teeth and soothed with tongue down her neck to her collar, shoulders, chest, stopping only when fabric got in the way. As his lips reached the barrier he let his hand wander around to her back, toying with the clasp of her bra for a moment before unhooking it entirely.
She ran her hands over him everywhere she could reach, her nails raking gently down his back. Her head tipped back, pressing against the desk as he trailed his lips and teeth and tongue all over her. Her breathing hitched, getting heavier the more he teased at her. When he reached the curve of her breasts and stopped, Emma glanced down at him, one hand smoothing through his hair. She arched her back to make it easier for him to reach behind her, and when she felt the latch on her bra come undone, she shifted to help him pull it off of her. Her face flushed and she averted her eyes when she was laid bare like that in front of him; she’d never been so exposed before, and certainly never like this. She trusted him, and she wasn’t second guessing her decision to go through with this, but this was new. She’d never let anyone see her before, and she was embarrassed to be seen despite herself.
He looked up at her as her hands ran through his hair, watching her as he unclasped her bra. He smiled when she flushed and looked away, a soft smile spreading as he shifter, his free hand moved to cup her face, his thumb running softly along the skin of her cheek as he captured her lips - and her attention - once again. “You are incredibly beautiful,” he all but breathed against her lips. The words were said to ease her mind, to put her at comfort in a new situation, but that didn’t make them any less earnest. He’d never seen a woman so beautiful and he thought he likely never would again. His kiss focused on her lips a bit longer before he returned to the skin of her chest, kissing now what had been hidden before, his lips trailing over the impossibly smooth skin of her breast as he his hands traveled over the other.
She pressed against his gentle touch, her eyes closing again as he kissed her. Her face flushed more darkly at his words, so adamant and reassuring. She didn’t know if she was, really, but that he thought so was enough for her. It was the only thing that kept her from turning away again. Her head dropped back down as his lips trailed back over her chest, her back arching to press closer to him. Her breath hitched and she sighed heavily, a quiet moan lodged in the back of her throat. He felt so warm against her skin, and so incredibly welcome. She’d never felt anything so wonderful in her life, and he had barely touched her. One of her hands tangled again in his hair, the other running down the back of his neck to trace patters against his spine. She watched him as he kissed his way across her chest and tried to memorize the way it felt.
His skin felt charged as her hands skimmed across his neck and her fingers traced illegible marks across his spine. He exhaled a warm breath reminiscent of a sigh over the sensitive skin he was kissing. He felt her other hand tangle in his hair and even that thrilled him. Simply the feeling of her, someone so controlled and reserved being so open to him now, he recognized this for the gift that it was and he wanted her to enjoy it, not to regret putting her trust in him. Similar to the way he’d wanted nothing more than to make her smile in Hogsmeade, bypassing his own favorite haunts to show her things he knew she would enjoy, he wanted to do the same for her now. His kisses moved so his lips could capture the sensitive nub in the center of her breast, tongue flicking over skin.
His breath on her skin sent another shiver down her spine and she arched closer still to his touch. When his lips moved and she felt his tongue across that particularly sensitive place on her chest, she gasped sharply, squirming ever so slightly beneath him. Her grip in his hair tightened, tugging at his dark locks gently. “Reggie…” She breathed his name barely loud enough to be heard, but even so the strain was evident in her tone. Her eyes closed and she pressed her hips up against his more firmly, creating the slightest bit of friction between them as she moved.
He smiled against her skin as he heard her breathe his name, her cry only urging him forward. His own breath hitched in his throat when she arched up, her hips molding against his and the friction against him sending a jolt up his spine. A groan at the sensation rumbled against where his lips were pressed and he lifted his head to claim her lips again, kissing her with a renewed passion as his hand trailed down to begin undoing the ties of her quidditch pants. What might have been difficult for some was easy work for one familiar with untying corsets and once the ties were loosened, he slipped his hand beneath the fabric to let his fingers draw patterns between her legs.
The groan against her skin made her press her hips more tightly against his, putting pressure where she knew he wanted it. She only moved away when his hand moved to the waistline of her pants, and she stilled to make it easier for him. She’d be lying if she said she weren’t nervous as hell, and part of her was tempted to tell him to stop, that she wasn’t ready. But she forgot about that notion very quickly when he kissed her like that. She was acutely aware of his touch, of his hand sliding under her clothes, and she gasped when he touched her. Her hands tugged at his hair and she moaned, rolling her hips down against the fingers pressed against her.
Her hips molded to his and pressed against him, every time drawing a groan from his lips that rumbled into their kiss. He wondered if she knew she was driving him mad, and he smirked against her lips thinking she very likely did. He moved slowly as his hand moved between her legs, giving her ample time to push him away or tell him to stop if she wished to. The last thing he wanted to do was push her farther than she wanted to go. He wanted this more than he could say but even more than that he wanted her to be sure. He took her moan and the way she pressed against his fingers as encouragement and he met the pressure with pressure of his own, teasing and relishing the feel of her as his palm pressed against her over her knickers.
The groans he pressed in to her mouth only encouraged her, and made her long to touch him. She could only do so much with her hips when his hand was pressed between them. She could feel his hesitance, and in response she only gripped at his back harder. She arched her hips against his hand, moaning again at the increased pressure against her. She moved one hand from his back and slid it down his chest, hesitating for only a moment before working her palm over the bulge in his pants. She’d never touched anyone else before, but she wanted him to feel the way she did, to squirm and ache and crave it til it drove him mad. She didn’t want to stop and didn’t want him to question it in the least; she wanted it, wanted to do this with him. “It’s okay,” she whispered against his lips. “I’m sure.”
Her hand moved down his chest and he had barely registered pleasure at that when her hand moved over his straining erection, sending shock up his spine. His lips parted from hers to let out a gasping moan at that feeling. At her words, he looked down at her, eyes meeting eyes, seeing the confirmation there as he heard it in her words. He nodded, kissing her a final time before he moved to pull her pants the rest of the way from her body, knickers and all. Instead of moving back over her, he stayed where he was between her now bare legs, and he pressed kisses against the soft skin of her inner thighs, moving slowly and tantalizingly north. He didn’t hesitate now, moving instead with confidence as he pressed lips and tongue between her legs, fingers exploring her soft folds.
Reg had spent all his time in Hogsmeade on Saturday with Emma, but he’d told some friends he’d meet them in town on Sunday. He’d gone down early to browse the bookstore a bit more, distracted as he was the day before. He was on his way there when he caught sight of Narcissa, a small smile tugging at his lips as he recognized his cousin. “Cissa,” he called to get her attention, changing direction to join her.
Sirius’ words still wrung in her mind as Narcissa found her way out of the shop. The tears weren’t spilling now, and she had fixed her makeup, but her fingers still shook and the blonde was sure she was going to go mad before she made it back to the castle when she heard a familiar voice calling out her name, the only voice she would have lied to hear. As she turned towards Regulus she swallowed, pulling a smile onto her lips.
The smile wasn’t the kind Regulus was used to, not as bright perhaps, not reaching her eyes. He couldn’t peg exactly what it was that seemed off but a flash of worry for his cousin ran through the Slytherin boy and he closed the last of the distance between them with a bit of a rush to his step. By all accounts she looked as if everything were perfectly fine, makeup and hair in place, eyes clear and wide as always, and yet Regulus couldn’t shake the idea that something wasn’t quite right. “Hello, love,” he said with a soft voice, kissing her cheek in greeting. “How are you?” he asked, eyes probing and filled with concern, though his face was carefully schooled as always.
“I’m alright.” She murmured, looking up at her cousin. Salazar, her looked like his brother, and she wanted to badly to just fall into his arms, but Narcissa would not do it, not here. She couldn’t do it here. The worry on Regulus face was clear to her, she knew him too, and the manicured facial expression did nothing to hide his concern, and so she reached out, weaving her fingers with his, more than she had allowed herself to do with Sirius. There was comfort in knowing both of the Black brothers still loved her, and power too. Narcissa might not have been strong, but she was loved by those who were, and she was smart, almost better that way. She looked back over her shoulder, towards the castle. She wanted to be alone with him, to tell him she had seen Sirius, but she couldn’t not here, and their dorms were so far. Maybe she wouldn’t tell him at all, maybe she would just curl into his arms, and stay there for hours, asking him the answers to riddles she had found.
Her words opposed the look he saw in her face, not to mention the way her fingers curled around his, and he knew he was right in worrying. She glanced behind her towards the castle and when she looked back, Regulus knew what she was thinking. Or at least could take a very educated guess. "Come along, darling,“ he said, using the hand holding hers to lace her arm through his. He led her away from the hustle and bustle of the town, students swarming about in front of the shop windows. Few paused to give them more than a second glance, to see the two youngest Blacks arm in arm was not an uncommon sight to those who knew them and to those that didn’t it was hardly interesting to focus on two strangers walking through town. In that fashion they made their way into the Three Broomsticks, as it was much closer than the castle. "Just a moment,” he said, leaning over to press a kiss to Narcissa’s cheek as he approached the bar. After a few murmured words with Madame Rosmerta and with a practiced exchange of coin, Regulus returned to his cousin with key and two butterbeers in hand. He led the blonde through the crowds and up a flight of stairs to the private rooms one floor above. Claiming one as their own he set the drinks down and locked the door behind them, taking the extra step to cast a silencing charm around the room before turning with an expression now free of all guards back to Narcissa. "What’s wrong, love?“
She watched him speak to Madame Rosmerta, head held high. There was something oddly soothing about seeing Regulus like this, in perfect control of the situation, handling matters in order to give her just what she wanted without her ever having to say a word. In another life, Narcissa could have fallen on love with him, the way he held his shoulders, the way he coaxed a private room out of the bartender, though those chambers were explicitly not meant for students. She still wished they could have gotten a hotel room, not because they needed more privacy, but because she just preferred spaces with a bit more class, but that would spawn far too many rumors, and it was not worth the pleasure it would give her to have a proper space. So she murmured thank you to her cousin as they climbed up the stairs and said nothing else until the silencing charm was cast. “It’s nothing for you to worry yourself about, my darling.” She said, hoping not to have to upset him by telling him about Sirius.
Now that they were alone, any vestiges of the mask he wore around the world faded from view. His concern was etched with clear intensity on his features, he had no secrets from Narcissa and felt no need to hide this concern from her. At her answer, he raised an eyebrow to show his disbelief of her words. “If it is worrying you, Cissa, it worries me,” he informed her, crossing the space between them so he could place hands on her arms. “Come, tell me what it is. How can I help if I don’t know what has upset you?” he asked as he led her to the benches along the wall, sinking down onto one of them beside her. He was generally of the opinion that he could and would attempt to fix any of her problems. Or at least help her bear them so they would bring her as little pain and distress as possible.
Some days she admired the way Regulus could cast away his mask so easily, and display what lay beneath. Narcissa’s was painted onto her features, and she’d forgotten how she was to peel it off most of the time, even when she just wanted to fall into Regulus’ arms. “It shouldn’t.” She said with a soft sigh, but she wove her fingers with his, and lowered herself down to sit beside him with perfect grace. It would not be fair to ask him to bear this weight for her, not the weight of his own brother, who had no right to impose himself on Narcissa, let alone Regulus through her, but keeping secrets from her cousin seemed sinful. “Sirius came to see me.”
It was not lost on Regulus that while he may have come to terms with Sirius, not all of the Blacks had done so. Even for him, the separation Sirius had imposed on all of them was difficult. He liked to believe he didn’t care, that he was past all of that, but there were days he knew he wasn’t. Days he hated that Sirius had left and was angry things couldn’t be the way they had once been. It seemed that, though this wasn’t one such day for him, it was for Narcissa. “What happened?” he asked, as she mentioned the older wizard. He didn’t want his cousins to think they couldn’t speak to him on this. They were family, as much as Sirius was, and he wouldn’t let his own opinion on it color that relationship.
“If this is your idea of sneaking out, I’d give it another go.” His voice drawls from the other side of the wall were he leans with his hands slipped into his pockets.
“I wasn’t sneaking anywhere, if I want to go out then I will do” Mully smirked at the other male, he didn’t care if he got caught and shoved into another detention, after all that was where he seemed to spend all of his spare time anyway. “What are you doing out here anyway? You look almost as creepy as me standing there all alone.”
Reg kept up his stern glare for another few seconds before his face broke into the easy smirk he wore around those he considered his friends. “I’m on rounds, you tosser,” he said, pushing away from the wall to talk with his friend. “I’m meant to be out here. And even if I wasn’t, I could never look as creepy as you. Your title in that respect is safe.”
“Well if you want I can put my hands infront of me and you can bound me in chains, sweep me off to a detention somewhere?” Mully couldn’t help but smirk when around Regulus, they shared quite an odd friendship, but one which for Mully was quite easy to withstand and didn’t demand too much attention. “Found anyone sneaking out? Apart from me of course”
Regulus chuckled lightly at Mulciber’s words. “That seems a bit to dramatic for me,” he informed him with a shrug as if he had actually considered carting him off to detention. “Besides, last I checked you’re a prefect as well. Let the Heads deal with you, I say.” He shook his head in answer to his next question. “It’s a quiet night. I’ve only run into the other prefects on duty and the ghosts. Even Peeves is quiet tonight. So really, you’ve saved me from an evening of unbearable boredom.”
“I don’t think I will be for much longer, I don’t even know why I got given it in the first place… I think they thought it would stop me from messing around, give me something to aim for, well it’s not exactly worked” Mull shrugged, he didn’t care that he was a prefect, although he did like having the use of the prefect’s bathroom, but even if he did lose his position he would have still got the password off one of them. “I’ve found Mary again, the little mudblood that I love to torment so the likelihood of still having my prefect’s badge by the end of the month is not great” He didn’t mind though, in fact it would at least give him even less of a reason to behave himself, and as anyone who knew him well would say, he wasn’t the most dependable of people. “I’m glad I have, fancy sneaking alcohol or something? I’ve got nothing better to do with my evening, and it sure seems like you don’t either”
As Mulciber mentioned the mudblood, Reg shook his head with a smirk. “There’s always the option of tormenting the girl quietly and keeping your badge,” he pointed out with a bit of sarcasm. “Unless having her feline friends constantly nipping at your heels is part of the draw,” he added, referencing the Gryffindor contingent that seemed so keen to protect her. Regulus had never understood Mulciber’s need for broadcasting his exploits, though he had no issue with the exploits himself. The MacDonald girl was hardly worth his notice and if she struck Mulciber’s fancy for whatever reason, Regulus took no issue. It was the flash attached to the torment that Regulus had a distaste for, though even that was more a question of personal style. Regulus had always been a more private person than his friend. “I’m not much of one for drinking,” he said to the offer, though that was a bit understated. “I could use a cigarette, though.”
“And yet I struggle to see where the fun would be in keeping it silent” Mully mused, he had always been one for voicing his opinions, his abilities and the madness he got up to because where was the fun in it all if people didn’t know. Of course he knew everyone at the school was already aware of what he had done to Mary the first time, and some continued to ask why he was still allowed at the school, but that didn’t bother him, in fact it made him want to scare them even more. “I will get to her again though, she cannot keep her distance from me, even if she does try so” Mull grinned to himself, it was clear he enjoyed the fact he was so easily able to effect the girl and maybe he should leave her alone for his own sake as well as hers, but he had never been the sort of person who wanted to play by the rules. Digging into his trouser pocket, he took out his cigarette case and offered Reg a cigarette, frowning a little when he said he didn’t really drink. “I find it surprising that you could be around these people and not have the need to drink… I don’t think I would be able to cope without alcohol here” he shrugged, before popping a cigarette into his own mouth, and lighting it up, before tossing it over to him. “So, any women on your radar?”
“If the fun is in the bragging and not the doing, perhaps your doing it for the wrong reasons,” he pointed out with a bit of a philosophical smirk. He wasn’t so much arguing with Mulciber as he was simply pointing out all the possible sides of the situation in general. It was a habit of Regulus’, one Mulciber was likely very familiar with. The young Black boy spent more time analyzing everything than he did simply reveling in it. As far as Regulus was truly concerned, Mully could torment and brag. He found the Gryffindors’ bristling quite amusing in any case. He had no doubt that if the older boy had set his mind on having the mudblood girl, he would succeed, and in that at least, Regulus wished him luck.
He took the offered cigarette and caught proffered lighter, shaking his head at Mully’s words with a smirk. The reason he didn’t drink was, in truth, because he disliked the feeling of losing control that came with being drunk. That was, however, not exactly the kind of thing one shared with simply everyone and so he shrugged in answer. “Drinking to excess is my brother’s vice, not mine,” he stated instead, as if he kept away from the stuff to separate himself from the ‘blood traitor’ that shared his name. He hadn’t realized as he said it, though, the way even mentioning his brother in such a negative way would twist at his insides, and he was eager for the change of subject Mully provided.
Emma’s name was on the tip of his lips in answer to Mully’s question before the younger boy caught himself. His feelings for Emma were new and thus bubbling to the surface, but they were not exactly acceptable. It wasn’t as if it were out of line for him to spend time with a girl before his impending marriage was announced, but that he actually felt for her? Would be unacceptable in the circles he traveled in. “Why?” he asked instead, with a conspiratorial smirk. “Care to share little Mary when you’re all finished?”
Mulciber wasn’t the smartest around and so he just stared at Regulus with an unamused look splattered across his entire face, shortly afterwards he gave him a stern prod to his side. “It doesn’t matter for what reason I am doing it, it is of no-one’s concern, if I enjoy it then there is nothing to talk about” he told him, taking a drag off his cigarette, then exhaling the smoke as he glanced around the area but it was quiet – pretty ghostly quiet which he supposed was a good thing. “Well yes, I have noticed that your brother has a keen interest in the sweet nectar, but I cannot bat an eye, after all I drink a large amount as well”
Mull stared at him once he had asked him the question, sighing under his breath and took another drag off his cigarette before he answered. “Usually I would offer my conquest over once I had finished tormenting them, but this one is different. I feel as though she belongs to me, and unfortunately for you that means she is off limits” he stood up a little taller, as if staring Regulus down, yet he didn’t class him as a threat as he may have done with others. “Just stay away from her and we’ll not have a problem” he smiled, finishing off his cigarette and tossing it to the floor. “You didn’t answer my question… are you worried that I shall go after her as well? Or are you not interested in the female species?” ”
Regulus couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the way Mully stood a bit straighter as he classified the mudblood girl as off limits. As if trying to be intimidating, trying to underscore the meaning behind his words. Almost as if she were more than a meaningless mudblood to the boy. He didn’t dare make such an accusation, not interested in tipping off the older boy’s temper for something Regulus truly couldn’t care less about, but it was an interesting piece of information and so he locked it away for future reference. “Trust me, I’ve no interest in your plaything,” he assured the older boy. “Mudbloods might be fun for some but they’ve never exactly been my taste.” While he didn’t judge others for dalliances with them before tossing them aside, Regulus had never had any desire to sully his family’s blood by consorting with one. Even if it was just for fun.
As Terrance restated his question with more - determination - this second time around, Regulus wondered why he was so interested. Regulus had never been one to gossip or to share details of his conquests. He was no different when actual feelings and fancies were involved. “I didn’t answer because I don’t find it to be of any consequence,” he answered with a shrug. He didn’t quite know why he was so adamant not to discuss Emma. There was no reason for it. She was a respectable girl, a good choice for someone like him, and as his future wife had not been chosen or announced yet, it wasn’t like Regulus was meant to be sitting about twiddling his thumbs and yet - something kept him from wanting to reveal how much he was beginning to care for her. To Terrance or to anyone. He knew better than most the way the things you cared for could be used against you. He disliked the idea of anyone realized Emma could be added to that list. He was a private person, after all. Always had been. “But if you’re so keen for an answer, no. There aren’t any girls I fancy right now.” He more than fancied her, that he was certain of. “Besides, who has the time?” he asked with a grin. “Between my studies and quidditch and my prefect duties I don’t have time to be swooning about after some bird. Vanity’d have my head if I missed catching the snitch because I was making eyes at someone in the stands.”
It wasn’t often that it got to Emma what was happening at home. Normally there was very little to report, and she didn’t hear often. She wrote even less frequently, finding it easier to distance herself from everything and everyone there than be emotionally involved. She couldn’t have said why today of all days it had gotten to her. She thought she’d come to terms with it, but she hadn’t. If she had, she wouldn’t be all but crying.
She merely stood there, the letter she’d written clutched in one hand, the edges folded where her fingers pressed the parchment inward, and her other hand pushed on her diaphragm, willing it to slow back down so it was easier to breathe. Her breathing was shallow and shuddered but she refused to cry. She could not be sad, could not be emotionally compromised. She couldn’t be. But her brother was dying and she was aching to ask after him, even though writing again so soon would be seen as a weakness, that he could be seen as a weakness she could not afford.
She hadn’t expected anyone else to come up to this particular tower, hardly anyone ever did. When she heard the door open, she quickly turned away and willed herself to be still. She touched her cheeks and was relieved to see she hadn’t shed any tears despite how much she’d wanted to. She didn’t turn around, proper manners be damned, only slipped the letter in to her pocket. “Good afternoon. I was just—” She turned to go, the word leaving on her lips, but there was Regulus, the first she’d seen him since breakfast. She ducked her head, not wanting even him to see her so distressed, though frankly, he looked no better himself. She didn’t know what to say, so for a moment she said nothing at all, only kept her eyes to the floor. After another moment, she decided to try to move past him and out the door. “Excuse me…. I should go.”
The panic that had overtaken him when he first read his brother’s letter had long since subsided, aided in the going by the brother in question when Regulus pulled him from class that morning. The normally composed and controlled Slytherin had lost any sense of self discipline in light of what he had learned about his brother and, though he was far more in control of himself now, he was still shaken. Panic, however, had given way to a guilt that wouldn’t go away despite his brother’s best efforts, and an anger the strength of which might have scared him if he weren’t so blinded by it.
That his mother, the woman who had once cradled and cooed and coddled Sirius with all her heart, could turn so completely on him was beyond him. Yes, she and her first born differed in views and ideals, yes the things Sirius did often went against all her codes and morals, but he was her son. That their relationship as strained, Regulus had understood. But to resort to - to - that? Sirius may have found a way to love her still, to make it all right in his head and his heart or however he managed to cope, but there would be no redeeming Walburga Black in the eyes of her youngest son.
A fact he had it in his mind to inform her of as he stormed up to the Owlery. He hadn’t expected to run into anyone and frankly, had anyone else been in the tower, he would have glared coldly until they realized they were far from welcome and left him to his own devices. But the body in the tower wasn’t just anyone. It was Emma. Her identity gave him pause, a moment to breathe before the glare plastered itself upon his features, but that moment was all he needed to see that Emma looked no better off than he did. Her face seemed drawn, her skin pale, and as surely as he knew he was not alright, he knew she wasn’t either. "I didn’t mean to interrupt your solitude,“ he said, a look of polished politeness substituting the glare he’d been planning on. He thought for a moment of turning and going himself, but he stopped himself. "Forgive me,” he started, knowing he was breaching all kinds of decencies but needing to ask anyway, “but - are you quite alright?”
She stopped in her tracks when he spoke, her face still lowered while she fought desperately to compose herself. This wasn’t new information, not really. She’d known for nearly two months now that Cornelius was going to die before he so much as reached an age old enough to bring him here, assuming he even had any magic at all. And sometimes, looking at the first years running past left an ache in her chest she couldn’t displace no matter how she tried. Every other day, she set her shoulders straighter, pinned her hair up tighter, and smoothed her features again and again til there was no trace of it left on or in her. But today she was exhausted after her first two days acting as quidditch captain, very little sleep and a stressful day of class and she had cracked. It had only been a few minutes and she wished to high heaven he hadn’t seen. But he had. And he’d noticed.
At first she didn’t reply. She didn’t want to lie, not to him, and say that she was perfectly fine as she would have to anyone else. She took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, and it only shuddered slightly. When she looked up at him, she was more composed, but no less pale than she had been. She was still trembling under the weight of it, but unless he touched her, he might never know.
She’d never seen him like this either. She’d never seen any cracks in the mask he wore so well, but there was an edge in his tone and the lines around his eyes were more defined. He did not smile at her, not even a little, the gesture so subtle most others would have missed it but she never had. Not til now. Something was wrong. Both of them were caught off guard by the other’s presence, and that had never happened before. “…..As alright as you are, I expect,” she said after a long moment of silence. Then she shook her head. “Forgive me, Regulus, I did not mean to imply….” She sighed. “It has been….a very trying day. I will survive it.” Her expression softened very slightly as she considered him and the wear that showed in his face. Unconsciously, she started to reach out to him, but pulled her hand back the moment she realized it had begun to move. “Are you? Alright, I mean,” she said, more softly now. “You seem…. out of sorts.”
He had half expected Emma to tell him she was fine, though she very clearly wasn’t. It occurred to him that most people wouldn’t realize that she was upset. It would be only a few people who noticed the slightly paler shade her skin had adopted, compared to her normal fair complexion, or to see the way her lips were held tightly together. Only one who knew her well, who shared with her a similar sense of decorum and composure, could see the cracks in the normally flawless facade. But, as he knew her well, he knew that she wasn’t one to share her personal thoughts and feelings and so he’d expected her to simply say she was fine. He would have accepted it, perhaps with a hand to her shoulder in a show of comfort, a promise to be available should she change her mind about talking. Instead, she admitted that she wasn’t completely in one piece.
Being Emma, even that was understated, but Regulus understood it or the admission it was. He wondered if she realized the comparison she was making. As alright as you are, she said. He knew she could tell he wasn’t his normal self but did she have any idea the level of turmoil she was comparing her feelings to. For some reason, though there was no outward way to see it or collaborate it, he felt as if she did.
He held a hand up at her apology, the hint of a smile he normally gave her in greeting touching his lips now, only with a wry edge it normally lacked. "No need to apologize,“ he insisted. "You implied right.” It was easier to admit to her than it would have been to most anyone else. It was likely because he saw the rawness in her he felt himself now, he was too tired and on edge to make up lies and hold on to facades and he imagined she felt the same. "Out of sorts would be putting it mildly.“ His hands, which had been restless and agitated before, slipped easily not into his pockets, a posture he often adopted. "A family matter that has - gone awry.” It was the best way he knew how to explain it, when he couldn’t rightly tell her anything at all. "But as you said - I will survive.“
It was so strange that he knew, yet so right at the same time. She’d known him for years and they had been as close as decorum had allowed, but that was not saying much by the standards of others. Still, the level of trust they were showing even in this conversation was almost astounding to her. They were always alright, always calm, always composed. But today they were bursting at their carefully crafted seams. Anyone looking at this conversation would see two people speaking cordially, nothing more. But to them this was the equivalent of screaming, and it spoke volumes.
He hid his hands and spoke those words - a family matter. She didn’t know for sure, but she wondered if he meant his brother. Things so often went awry when Sirius was being discussed she could hardly imagine anything else. She felt silent for a moment, letting his words hang in the air between them. She could end it here, let it go and walk away from here with her dignity and propriety in tact, collect herself and go about her business. But he hid his hands. He was barely holding it together. “……Perhaps you are unaware you do this,” she said after a moment, her voice incredibly soft. “But you hide your hands in your pockets when you do not wish anyone to know what you are feeling. You speak with them when you are enthused or jovial but when your thoughts turn dark you hide them and it helps you hide yourself. And forgive me, but I wish you would not.”
She shouldn’t be saying this. She had no business, no purpose at all in saying anything to him. Her hands clamped around each other and she fought not to twist them. She would not look at him, and instead kept her eyes continuously on the floor or he would see how distressed she was. She couldn’t allow it, not yet. “I fear there are so few we might consider trusting of late… But if I may….” She glanced up at him through her lashes for only a moment. “I feel perhaps such things would not be too hastily given in this instance. If….If I am at all over-stepping my boundaries I beg your pardon most sincerely. Yet…… I find I wish to speak plainly here… if…..if we may.”
He was not sure what shocked him more. The observation she made about his hands, it was absolutely accurate. As she said it, he pulled hi hands from his pockets, looking down at them as if they had offended him by moving to his pockets without his permission, as if they had given away that which he had been trying to keep secret. Which is to say he furrowed his brow for a moment before looking back to her That she noticed such a behavior surprised him. That she’d understood it for what it was surprised him even more. But neither compared to the feeling of comfort it gave him to hear her observe it. He’d never been the type to need may people around him, close enough to lean on should he ever feel the need. He’d always had his brother - except for that brief awful time - and when he didn’t have him, he had Narcissa.
He hadn’t expected to have Emma. He certainly hadn’t expected to be glad of it.
“I hadn’t realized it,” he acknowledged when she finished speaking, hoping to bring her gaze back up to him from her hands, gripping one another tightly. "If you need someone to talk to, you can always come to me,“ he answered earnestly. The way she refused to look at him, the fact that she had even expressed a desire to speak freely with him, he knew she was in need of a compassionate ear and a comforting shoulder and he found himself eager to be those things for one who asked for so little of their friendship. "You’ve overstepped nothing” he assured. "That’s what friends are for, is it not.“ He took a chance then, one he likely wouldn’t have taken had he not spent the morning with his brother. Regulus was a man of words, of thoughts and ideas, not of actions. Not like his brother, who conveyed more with a kiss to his temple than any words could hope to translate. His movement then was nothing so forward, but he did step closer to her, a hand resting on her arm. "What’s troubling you?”
She watched him turn his hands over for just a moment, her gaze on them instead of his face. That he hasn’t realized it wasn’t surprising, not to her in any case, but that he seemed surprised she had caught on to it was something she wasn’t sure how to feel about. They were friends, he was right. And they knew each other, but this singular conversation made her believe maybe they knew each other better than they thought. It was comforting but somehow simultaneously unnerving. To believe you hid yourself all but flawlessly was a comfort in their world, and to have someone you knew but didn’t know picking you apart was, in its own way, earth-shattering.
She wasn’t sure if it was that or the fact that he was suddenly right beside her, his hand resting reassuringly, gently on her arm, but she looked up at him and for a moment, there was no masking what she was feeling. She knew he felt her trembling under his touch, so unexpectedly given she’d had no chance to try to hide it. Her hands twisted together, wringing her fingers as subtly as she could. Her next intake of breath was shuddered again when he asked her what was wrong and she had to look away again.
Silence filled the space between them and for a moment she almost backed out. She almost took it all back and said nothing on the matter whatsoever. But she’d never spoken of it before and he’d caught her just enough off guard that she didn’t want to keep it to herself. “I…… I’ve a younger brother,” she finally managed, her voice so soft he would just be able to hear her. She’d never so much as mentioned her brother before, not even in passing. “He is…..” She swallowed hard but her grasp on her composure was slipping. “…..They tell me he will never live long enough to….. That…… That….. He is six,” she finally managed. “And five more years is… optimistic. They…..do not know his ailment. My parents are…..less than diligent in seeking its cure. He….” She shook her head, and for a moment her breath was painful. “I have come to terms with….. But…. some days are…. much more difficult than others.”
It was disconcerting to find that someone could see through his walls, could know him more than he had remembered allowing. But upon that realization, and when he was forced to admit it didn’t bother him like it would have if anyone else had made the same observation, a part of him wondered if he had allowed it after all. Between sharing classes, quidditch practices, long nights spent sharing companionable silence while reading or talking about a vast array of random subjects, Regulus wondered if he hadn’t become more comfortable than he realized and let up on things like personal guards and heavy unbreakable facades. Whatever it was, he was glad of it now, else she may never have confided in him.
She spoke of her brother and Regulus couldn’t help but think of his own as she did. If his brother was here, he would have wrapped an arm around the girl - would have if it had been one of his friends of course. He would have pulled her in against his chest, soothing the shaking that he felt under his hand and sharing in her pain. Regulus couldn’t go quite so far, and he didn’t think if he could Emma would appreciate such a blatant intrusion into her personal space, but his hand on her arm squeezed for a moment, silent solidarity and understanding and empathy coursing from his touch.
He thought of what it would be like, to know he would lose his brother. To know, without a shadow of a doubt, that there was only the slimmest chance he would have five more years with him at the very least. The thought quite literally stole the breathe from his lungs and he could imagine the kind of pain she was feeling if she felt even a fraction of the love he felt for Sirius for her own brother. As her composure began to slip, he brought his hand to her elbow, guiding her towards one of the benches that lined the walls. He waved his wand quickly and without ceremony, cleaning the bench with a quick muttered incantation before he settled both of them down on it. "I imagine most days are difficult, when you cannot keep from thinking of it,“ he said with singular understanding. She was much like him in that, he believed. Mind of matter, believing a thing did not hold power over her because she said it didn’t. "I am truly sorry he - and you - suffer so. To lose a brother, even more so to live with the knowledge that you will, is a terrible burden to bear.”
She felt his hand squeeze her arm gently and for a moment, just one moment, she thought wildly of reaching out for him. Her hands clenched more tightly around each other instead, and she didn’t move, but she wanted to. It was a foolish thought that she might ever be able to, or even that for an instant she had wanted to. Such things were unbecoming, weren’t they? Even now in a moment where she had to admit she wanted something to hold on to, to make her feel more grounded. But the hand he rested on her arm would have to be enough, she decided.
She was grateful he led her to the bench to sit, and appreciated him wiping it clean first. This was hardly the most cleanly place, naturally, but that he cared to try to make the most of it did not go unnoticed or unappreciated. One hand curled in the folds of her skirt, keeping itself lodged in place. Her other hand pressed to her chest, trying to get it to still. Her breathing, though still soft, was slipping out of her control and kept hitching with every other inhale she took. She bowed her head while she fought it, but she was marginally unsuccessful. His sympathy was more than she had ever received, largely in part because she never spoke of it, but her parents’ indifference, at least in front of Emma, had been nearly as difficult to bear as the thought of her brother’s rapidly shortening lifespan.
She meant to thank him for his kindness, perhaps leave the subject at that. But words she did not allow passed her lips before she could stop them. “How can they not care?” Her voice wavered violently on that word, her tone agonizing. She wanted to scream it, but she barely spoke at all, her voice barely more than a murmur. “He’s their son! Their child. And they sit there and watch him die as though it were a commonplace thing for a baby to suffer so greatly and so unchecked. They hardly seek his cure and some days it seems they think it better if he—” She cut herself off very sharply when she realized she had started to cry. She turned her head away from him, wiping her cheeks as discretely as possible. “F…..Forgive me,” she whispered. “I did not mean… I respect my parents greatly. I should not say such things against them.”
She let her hands fall in to her lap again, her head staying bowed while she was unable to control her emotions. When she thought she might be able to control at least her voice again, only then did she speak, still in a whisper to keep it from escaping her again. “Regulus I beg your forgiveness…. This is unseemly of me. And I am not the only one in such distress. I pray you will pardon my selfishness.” She finally glanced up at him, but then away again. It was easier to compose herself that way. “Whatever it is that troubles you… should you wish to speak of it I would gladly listen.”
Being the middle of the day, the owlery was quiet with the sounds of owls sleeping around them. It made it easier for him to hear the way her breathing changed from steadied and control to stuttering with the strength of her emotions. He was surprised when he heard her speak, heard the words that left her mouth, but given his own emotional state, the words struck chords with him they wouldn’t have even a day ago. He’s their son, she said. Their child. Regulus had said the same things to himself just that morning, though while she asked with pain in her voice, he had asked with anger.
He noticed her begin to cry before she did and he quietly pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket, handing it to her once she noticed so she could wipe her eyes. He felt an overwhelming need to wrap his arms around her as she cried but the way she turned away to dab at her tears stilled his movements, not wanting to do anything that made her uncomfortable. He shook his head at her back pedaling. He was not the same boy he had been even that morning, he didn’t think parents who neglected their children as hers did her brother were as deserving of her respect as he once did. "Parents do not always know best" he found himself saying, not sure that it was comforting so much as he was sure it was true. "You need not ever worry about speaking ill of them to me. Especially not when they wrong you and your brother so.“
She looked away from him again, her eyes never landing on him for long as she struggled for composure, and so he reached across to take one of her hands in hers, wrapping his fingers warmly around hers. "You’ve done nothing needing of forgiveness,” he assured her. He was happy to be able to be there for her, someone he knew didn’t let herself need others often if at all. She was so much like him in that way but today, of all days, he knew that no one could take care of themselves all the time. "My brother troubles me as well,“ he confided, "though not for the same reasons. But believe me when I say I understand wholeheartedly the pain you feel on his behalf. To express it is anything but selfish.”
She took the handkerchief he offered her and nearly grabbed hold of his hand when it was near enough. She wanted to, though she couldn’t really begin to say why, and only barely refrained. She had never felt the desire to break her own rules so much before, and certainly never so frequently as had happened since his arrival today. She pressed the handkerchief under her eyes, trying to dry her face but was nearly wholly unsuccessful. She knew she shouldn’t care so much about her brother, and knew that loving him so desperately would only make his passing that much harder, but she couldn’t help it. And now that it showed, she found she didn’t really want to hide it.
She started slightly when his hand wrapped gently around hers and she finally turned to look at him, her expression far from composed and orderly. She was emotional and more raw than he’d ever seen her before but to hell with it. She was allowed a day. Just one day where she let herself feel the things she wanted to. She looked down again, but not away, her eyes only barely not meeting his. She sighed softly and she knew he was right. “I respect my parents,” she said again, her voice quiet and more even now, “but there are days I find myself resenting them greatly.” It was more than she’d ever admitted aloud before, but she couldn’t help it. Her impending marriage - whenever they announced it, at least - was only good in that it would get her away from them. It was a silver lining at least, small as it might have been.
When it was his turn to speak, her eyes went back up to his. Regulus never spoke of his brother, and who could blame him? Sirius was a blood traitor and an outcast, as black mark on the Black family name. It was the first time since the older brother had been disowned that she saw the care Regulus still held for him. She squeezed his hand gently, shifting just a little closer to him as she turned to look at him better. “Is everything alright?” she asked gently. Clearly something had happened, and she couldn’t begin to guess what might be troubling him about his brother - the potential list was terribly extensive. “Has something happened to him?”
As she admitted that while she respected her parents, she resented them as well, he wondered if she’d ever admitted as much even to herself before. He knew with certainty that he himself never had. One day ago, had they met in this same situation, Regulus was ashamed to say he would have seen things from her parents point of view. That a child so frail was beyond help, that a child in this world without magic was perhaps even better off. He wouldn’t have been able to see it in terms of his own brother, the situations would not have been closely enough aligned. And that thought sickened Regulus. He had long extolled the virtues and importance of blood status, and what was family if not the truest representation of that. Her brother, and his, for any other faults and flaws were still purebloods. And that should have counted for something.
It was his turn now to pull his eyes away, though he did not so much look down as he simply looked away. His jaw set at the question, against not so much the answering of it as against the circumstance itself. He didn’t speak right away, wanting greatly to confide in her but knowing that what troubled him was not his secret to tell. "It’s not something that’s happened to him, so much as information I was given that I hadn’t been - privy to - before.“ His words were admittedly vague, and he tried to find something closer to an explanation. For all intents and purposes, he was trying to explain why he cared at all for the fate of a blood traitor, let alone why he cared about something that had happened in the past, something he could do nothing about now.
"I would tell you more, if I could,” he admitted finally, “but it is not mine to tell. Suffice it to say it was brought to my attention this morning how misguided parents can be. Blood traitor he may be but - he is still my brother.” That last was said with a protective edge, it was one thing he’d not admitted to anyone but Narcissa and Sirius himself but in light of what she had shared with him, he felt safe in speaking those words to Emma.
She had never so much as admitted to herself before that she resented them, but now that the words had left her mouth for the first time, she knew they were true and she’d never forget it entirely again. That she’d admitted it to anyone, especially someone in her world, should have scared her. It was so dangerous to admit any sort of deviance from her parents’ wishes, but this was the one time she’d allow it to the one person in whom she believed she could truly confide. She sensed no disdain in response, no discomfort at her confession, and it was a relief.
When he looked away, Emma’s eyes stayed on his profile, studying as much of his face as she could see. When he was silent, Emma reached over to him and slid her hand in to his, squeezing it gently. That aside, she did nothing, only waited for him to speak. She was glad for his sake that nothing had happened to Sirius, though what was going on she couldn’t entirely be sure. It sounded like something awful had happened once and Reggie was only now being told, or some sort of secret had come to light that was difficult for him to bear. She respected his silence on the details, however, and didn’t press it.
At the last and at the tone she heard in his voice, Emma shifted to face him more directly and reached up to gently cup his face in her palm. She turned him so their eyes met again. “I understand,” she murmured fervently. And she did. She knew what it was to have a brother you loved but couldn’t admit to caring for, and to love him despite what everyone told you. “I promise you I do. I am sorry to hear they wronged him.”
He could feel her eyes on him even when he looked away and while that might normally have made him feel on edge, now he didn’t mind. He was grateful for her concern and her care and when she slipped her hand into his, he easily wrapped his fingers around hers, returning the squeeze and enjoying the warmth her skin created against his. It became easier even as the words were leaving his lips to confide in her and he realized that the words he spoke were true. If it were his secret to divulge, he would trust her with it. She had trusted him with so much this day, he felt confident he could return that.
When Emma’s hand cupped his cheek, the feeling of warmth spread though him and while the physical contact may have been off putting coming from anyone else (save Sirius), he didn’t even falter. He let her turn his head and the hand not holding hers moved to cover hers against his skin. His fingers laced through hers and when she had finished speaking he pulled that hand to his lips where he pressed a kiss against the knuckles, a gesture familiar to those he called family though he had never given it to one he only called friend before.
“I know you do,” he said honestly. "And I appreciate your sympathies, as you have mine. I do hope you know that should you ever need comfort or someone to simply confide in about your brother, you can always call on me.“ He did not make the offer lightly, but he made it with his whole heart. He knew what it was to love someone you shouldn’t have, to carry that burden without assistance. He would happily be another shoulder for her to lean on, if she would allow him.
Something about knowing he trusted her was calming to her; she knew he meant it. After having spent the last five years knowing him, she knew very well that Regulus never said things he didn’t mean, not like this. He was raw and exposed just as she was, and that wasn’t the kind of thing the two of them ever did. It was strange, but somehow not nearly as frightening as she’d expected it to be. They trusted each other, that much was plain as day to her, though she couldn’t have said why. Something had shifted between even this morning and when he’d first walked in here, and it left them in a very different place than they had been before. She wasn’t sure yet what to make of it.
Her expression softened very slightly around the edges, her heart beating a little faster when his hand covered the one she’d thoughtlessly placed against his cheek. Her eyes dropped for a moment, her cheeks turning pink and very warm when he pressed his lips to her knuckles. He’d never done anything so personal before and she had very rarely experienced it, and then only when the rules of their society called for it. They did not now, and that made it personal on a much different level. It was a simple gesture, of course, and most wouldn’t think much of it. But it was different for them, they who valued subtlety and did nothing without careful calculation.
She looked up at him again as he continued speaking and nodded at his words. “I know,” she murmured gently. “And I would return that kindness, if I may be so bold as to offer it.” It was difficult for both of them, she knew, when they couldn’t talk about the things that weighed most heavily on them with just anyone. Theirs was a precarious situation, and to have found confidence in someone was, at least for her, a vast relief. Emma sighed softly and looked down at their still joined hands instead of at his face. “It’s horrible, isn’t it?” she asked quietly. “To have to treat someone living as though they are dead… It isn’t their fault they’re not perfect the way our parents want them to be. I understand disappointment, but… Sometimes…..” She sighed. “I suppose no society can be perfect. And I suppose I would not see its flaws were I not on this side of it. I am letting my emotions get in the way of rationality.” She looked up at him with a weary, almost wry smile. “Sometimes I forget how young we really are with how much is expected of us.”
He knew the gravity of the offer she was making, of the one he had made. To find true confidants in a world such as theirs was difficult. It was not for nothing that Slytherins were known for their ambitious nature, Cliches were often born out of truth and the image of the callous cold hearted snake who looked out for himself above all others was not unheard of. But what few people realized about Slytherins was that once their trust and loyalty were won, no house could compare to how fiercely those would be protected. Emma had won Regulus’ trust and loyalty, whatever were to come in their future he would always endeavor to be there for her.
She looked away but he kept his eyes on her delicate face, watching the emotions that crossed it so subtly and without great dramatics. He nodded in agreement with her words, understanding better than he might have liked to. “What is heralded as rational is not always so,” he pointed out, thinking of Sirius. Because his views differed from those espoused by their family, he was cast out, but wasn’t the strength of character it took to shoulder those beliefs part of what it meant to be a Black? The rationality was flawed, the logic skewed.
At her next words, seeing the weariness on her face, his smile was genuine, though small. “Let’s be young then,“ he said, standing and pulling her to her feet beside him. “Tryouts are in almost an hour and if nothing else, no one cares if we do that. Let’s enjoy that at least while we can,” he suggested. It wasn’t much, wasn’t nearly enough to make up for the pain they both endured when it came to their brothers, but it was something they could have here and now, and he would be damned if he let the rest of this mess darken even that for her.
“No,” she agreed, “I suppose it is not. Rationality is not as….straight-forward as I used to like to believe. It seems it is very objective indeed.” It had taken her a long time to come to terms with that, but Cory’s sickness had aided that plight very quickly. Before, she had swallowed everything she was told, accepted it as fact, but now? She took many things her parents said were rational and therefore true to be flimsy matters of opinion. It had shaken her for a long time, not knowing if other things they said were equally untrue, and there were still times she struggled with it. To know she wasn’t alone in that was a comfort she couldn’t have put in to words if she’d tried.
She got to her feet when he pulled her up, keeping hold of his hands long after it was strictly necessary to do so. She was standing closer than was needed as well, as that’s where he’d pulled her, and she couldn’t find it in herself to step away for several long moments. She finally did, however, rocking back on her heels to put a more appropriate amount of distance between them.
Despite herself, Emma giggled. She smiled almost conspiratorially up at him and shook her head. “Mother will be furious,” she confided in him. “Every time I return home, she insists it is unbecoming for a lady to take part in such a violent sport. She rails against it so fiercely… Father does not mind. I think he enjoys seeing her so angry about it. I think it makes me enjoy it all the more. Try as she may, it is one place where she cannot dictate my actions.” She realized she was speaking of open rebellion against her mother’s wishes and ducked her head, though she still smiled. She squeezed his hands gently before finally releasing them. “But you are right,” she amended, looking up at him again. Her expression softened slightly for a moment when their eyes met, and for a moment she forgot what she’d intended to say. When she remembered herself, she looked away, turning to walk back out of the owlery. “It would hardly do for a captain to be late.”
As he pulled her to her feet, he was acutely aware of the distance it stole from between them and of how she didn’t step away as quickly as others might have. In fact, he was acutely aware of everything about her. While Regulus had never truly felt the effects of a crush before, he had a feeling that was what he experiencing now. The desire to be near her, to wrap an arm around her or be the cause of her smile. Emma had always been a friend to him but after this encounter, this exchange of deeply guarded secrets and mutual trust, Regulus knew there was something more.
At the sound of her laugh and her rebellious words, Regulus released a chuckle of his own. “Then we should certainly make the most of it,” he said, meaning reveling in something that perhaps displeased her mother. He understood the sentiment, his aunt always frowned with spectacular disapproval when he and Sirius had managed to talk Andy into playing pick up games with them at home. His smile grew wide as she ducked her head and though he felt a sudden loss when she pulled her hands from his, her soft expression distracting his thoughts as she fixed him with it. He had, not for the first time nor for the was sure for the last, the urge to wrap her in his arms. He slipped his hands instead into his pockets as he followed her lead out of the owlery. “And we certainly can’t have everyone asking why I made her late,” he offered as they exited. “After all, we’d have to make something up to satisfy their curiosity or they’d never focus.” His voice was, for the first time, teasing and his smirk was light and playful.
Something was different, though she couldn’t say what it was. She wasn’t sure what the name for this could possibly be, but the air between them felt more charged, heavier with emotions they weren’t expressing. It was strange, feeling some sort of silent connection to him that had not been there when he’d walked in the door. But there was something to be said for trusting someone, she supposed, and the way it altered things. Neither of them trusted easily if at all, and that they were putting such faith in one another surely had its effects, but she tried not to read too much in to it or put stock in it. Despite how much she wanted there to be more than whatever this was, that was improper and far beyond her place to hope for.
She smiled at his chuckle and nodded her head in agreement. “Yes, I thought so. She turns a rather lovely shade of maroon when we argue about it. She has never managed to win one such debate with me, a fact I take a certain amount of pride in.” The look he gave her in return wasn’t one she knew how to name, and it wasn’t one she’d ever seen in him before. She’d never seen him look at anyone like that and it did strange things to the pit of her stomach. She tucked a stray strand of hair back behind her ear, not bothering to pin it back in place when she would just be readjusting her hair at the pitch before practice. She didn’t miss him slipping his hands in to his pockets and nearly protested, but she didn’t want to admit she knew how significant such a simple gesture was. She fell in to step beside him as they left and she laughed, her head tipped back slightly. “Oh how scandalous,” she shot back at him, her eyes on that wicked little smirk of his. “I should never live it down. We’d best not be late, then. I can’t have my reputation so soiled by the likes of you~”
One of the perks that Alecto had found from being a prefect was that she was knowledgeable to the prefect schedule and knew when she’d be able to get past them for a walk on the grounds. Tonight Lucius was on rounds, and after a kiss to the cheek and a little bit more, she was in the clear to go on a walk with Regulus. She needed to talk to him about everything that was going on, and she wanted to know where his head was at.
Alecto was waiting outside of the sixth years boy’s dorm and banged on the orr. “Oi, Reg! We’ve got a fifteen minute window, and I don’t know about you but I’d like to get the hell out of here.” She felt for the back of smokes in the pocket of her robes that banged against the half full bottle of whiskey. Her hand itched to reach out and light one up, but she wanted to wait until she was outside. The last thing Alecto wanted to hear was Bellatrix’s incessant whining at the smell of the smoke. “Getting old out here, Reg!”
Being off duty for the night, Regulus had planned to spend the night either buried in a book or studying with Narcissa, if he could get her to focus long enough. What he hadn’t planned on doing was sneaking out with another prefect, for a smoke and a chat. But it was Alecto who asked and Regulus always found himself hard pressed to deny Alecto anything she asked of him. For a time, she was meant to become his sister-in-law and though that relation would never come to fruition, the friendship remained.
He was searching for his cigarette case when she knocked on the door, the silver box having been misplaced the last time Narcissa had pilfered from it. She knocked again, impatiently and the corners of his lips sank into a smirk as he joined her where she waited. “Can’t have you losing that youthful glow,” he said with polished sarcasm and a peck on her cheek in greeting. “Shall we, than?” He gestured for her to lead the way as they twisted and turned their way out of the dungeons to the chilly nighttime air, deftly avoiding the prefects they often were among.
Alecto rolled her eyes at the blatant sarcasm. “I’ll have you know that I aim to look this good when I’m forty.” Her fingers tapped ceaselessly against the door “You’re a wizard, Reg, if you’re looking for something, might I imagine utilizing the magic you were born with?” Once he was ready to leave, she buried her hand in the crook of his arm, assisting him in avoiding Lucius and his cohort for the night.
Once they were outside, Alecto quickly picked a cigarette out of her pocket and lit it with the tip of her wand, offering it to Reg to light his as well. “Well? I’m assuming you’ve heard the news about Amycus then? Rumor is we’ll all be getting our letters any day now.”
“Last time I accoid the case, it had been left open and my cigarettes were everywhere,” he explained as he took her arm, a movement that would look odd on the average sixteen year old boy but which Regulus pulled off with practiced poise. He rolled his own cigarettes to boot, so when they fell, they created quite the mess. “Patience is a virtue anyway. I’m helping you better yourself.”
He released her arm to pull a cigarette of his own from the case, taking the offered light and inhaling deeply. He nodded at her question, he had heard about Amycus receiving his letter. “Some sooner than others,” he said with a tinge of impatience in his voice. He wouldn’t come of age until after the winter break and though he’d expressed his interest in taking the mark before his seventeenth birthday, he hadn’t heard yet if he’d be given the opportunity. “Is he ready for his task?”
Alecto surveyed Regulus carefully for signs of wanting to defect, as his brother had. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Regulus- She trusted him as much as she trusted anyone outside of Amycus, which was still very little- but she understood that the appeal of following Sirius might be too much for the boy. “Is that eagerness I sense in your voice?” She asked, flicking excess ash from her cigarette underneath her shoe.
Alecto tilted her head, considering his question. From what she’d seen, Amycus was far from ready, however she didn’t feel that it was pertinent for him to know. “He’s as ready as one can be, I suppose.” She inhaled, savoring the burning in her throat over discussing her brother’s preparedness. “I suppose it’s the unease of not knowing what we’ll have to do that’s kept Amycus and I on our toes.”
Regulus made no secret of his desire to join the Dark Lord’s army, of his desire to have a part in this fight instead of just sitting by waiting for change to happen. His parents encouraged his dedication whole heartedly, it was they who had introduced him to the people so close to the Dark Lord’s inner circle over the summer and they who had planted the idea of joining the fight as soon as possible into his head. Pure blood though he might be, he had no intention of letting this war be fought by someone else. “Eagerness to make a difference,” he clarified. “To stop sitting by while our world is abused and sullied by those who don’t deserve it.”
Regulus understood her guardedness as he asked about Amycus, he would have been the same had she asked after Sirius in the same manner. “Uncertainty is unnerving,” he had to agree. He’d avoided the fear of uncertainty through avoidance, so who was he to judge anyone else their unease about it. “You have each other,” he pointed out, “You’ll be more than fine, I’m sure of it.” He wanted to offer that they also had him but it seemed and odd thing to find words for. He’d not pledged such allegiance outside of his family before.
Alecto nodded slowly. “I must say, Reg, I’m glad to see that you’ve proven quite different from others in this school.” Alecto couldn’t help but feel different from Regulus. Yes, she hated the Mudbloods and their over-enthusiasm and over all irritating ways. But she was not hellbent on warring against them. Though at this point it honestly looked as if it wouldn’t be much of a war for them. She was focused on herself and Amycus, not on the nonsense of a war. But still, she knew the part that she was expected to play, and she wasn’t ignorant enough to think that she could lower that guard around Regulus. “Patience is a virtue though. Let the mudbloods and blood traitors run themselves into the ground before we even have to lift a finger.”
She felt as though her and Regulus were tiptoeing around the real issues, instead talking in pleasantries and fancy airs. But so was the way of their society, it was the way they were raised. Alecto couldn’t remember the last time she had been frank with anyone outside of Amycus and Sirius, and it was only because their constitutions demanded it of her. “While having Amycus is a benefit, one always has to worry about family members being… liabilities.” The last word came out quieter than she had intended it, and she couldn’t help but think of what she had promised Sirius only days earlier.
She observed that he was different from many people in school but Regulus wondered if she didn’t mean different from her. He knew what it looked like, to be so eager for war. It wasn’t bloodlust that drove him, though. He wasn’t a particularly violent boy but he was a ceaselessly logical one. Infestations were not curbed by patience for things to return to the status quo. The mudbloods wouldn’t simply go away, policy wouldn’t change itself. It would take people willing to fight to achieve the change they desired. “Patience has run its course,” he countered. “Our society waited and waited while mudbloods enacted statues of secrecy and amassed power in our government. We’ve waited ourselves right into this war.” He didn’t speak with anger or exuberance, he spoke as if stating fact, which in his mind he was.
The word ‘liabilities’ caught his attention as he was sure it was meant to and he regarded her cooly as he tried to work out what it was she was asking. He wasn’t dumb to the fact that his family offered far more potential for liability, she was taking about Sirius. And it made Regulus uneasy. “What is it you’re aiming to ask, Alecto?” He wanted to believe her question was meant with good intentions but where Sirius was concerned, Regulus was always wary. He would not let his brother be used as a weakness against him, even if it meant being cool towards Alecto until he was sure she meant him no harm. He didn’t imagine she did, but there was no being too careful.
Alecto’s objectivity forced her to see reason when it came to agreeing with Regulus’s words. It was true- the mudbloods had pushed them to this extreme, as much as Alecto didn’t want to be the one paying the price for other’s transgressions. “Well now we’re force to play our hand; It will be stronger than the oppositions, but I hope for our sake that this war is a quick one.” Alecto had no patience and just wanted to secure their safety.
Regulus’s temperature changed towards Alecto, and she foolishly relaized that she had gone about her words the wrong way. Of course he would be put on edge. She would as well in any other situation. The circumstances required her frankness, and her attempt at slyness had been foolhardy at best. “It’s about your brother, as I’m sure you’ve assumed.” Her voice was reluctant, but she felt that Regulus had a right to know. “He’s asked a promise of me, and I’ve agreed to it already. But I thought that you deserved to be told. But I do plan on following through with what he’s asked of me.”
With this sentiment, Regulus could agree. He echoed her hope that this war ended quickly. He was not interested in fighting for the sake of fighting, of being in the middle of bloodshed and battle. He would do what needed to be done, but he would not enjoy it. “They’re already making strides in the Ministry,” he pointed out. “If they can keep moving forward with as little opposition as they’ve faced thus far, I think we will have little fighting left to do.” It was perhaps an optimistic hope but the Dark Lord was gaining followers with great speed and the opposition was paltry at best. Regulus was sure it would take a great change for anything to throw their cause very off course.
Her quick change of tactic did not go unnoticed by Regulus and it was only her history with Sirius that allowed her to peer over his defenses. His guard was not yet lowered but he wasn’t retreating into cold detachment just yet. Curiosity, desperate and screaming, to know what Sirius had asked of her attacked him. His brother had asked something of her, something he wouldn’t tell Regulus himself and something she thought he needed to know. That was enough to worry him. Voice filled with forboding, he questioned, “What did he ask?”
Alecto noted Regulus’s optimism but chose not to comment on it. She knew that she was hoping for the same thing, but dwelling on it would only increase her ever-growing anxiety. Instead she focused on the task at hand, which didn’t seem to be much easier. She fiddled the cigarette between her fingers, her eyes sweeping the ground and ignoring Regulus’s probing gaze. She took a drag of the cigarette, the smoke searing the back of her throat before she exhaled it. But she couldn’t hid behind her reticence for much longer, as she was the one who brought it up.
“Your brother has requested that should the time come that the Dark Lord requested that you torture or kill Sirius, I take your place. He’s asked me to do this for Amycus as well and I’ve accepted. You’re not going to change my mind, but I wanted you to be aware of the situation.” A large breath of release left Alecto as she looked at the boy, a slight fear creeping into her eyes. She wanted, no needed, to do this for him. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt a sisterly need to protect Regulus, and she couldn’t live with the idea that he might be forced to hurt Sirius more than she could live with idea that someone might force her to hurt Amycus.
He wasn’t sure what he had expected her to say, what the request might have been, but whatever he had prepared himself for, this wasn’t it. Any guard he had been preparing to raise shattered under the meaning in those words. His entire being rebelled against that probability, in the space of an instant he imagined a scenario that would place his brother’s fate in his hands and just as instantly he knew he would never be able to hurt his brother. More, even, he knew he’d never be able to allow it to happen. In the space of a mere moment Alecto had revealed to him what would perhaps be his most dangerous weakness in this war.
He didn’t realize he hadn’t answered right away and when he had the presence of mind to form words, he wondered how long she had been waiting for his answer. “No.” It wasn’t much, as far as answers went, but it was the only one he could even fathom giving. “I - cant’ - speak for your promise on Amycus’ behalf but on mine - I can’t - No.”
Alecto couldn’t help but let out a small sad chuckle, expecting Regulus’s answer. “It’s not up to you, Regulus.” She was trying to be gentle, knowing that if she were in his position she would feel similarly. “Sirius- doesn’t he deserve to decide how he dies, if that’s the circumstance in which it’s actually going to happen?” She longed to reach out and touch the boy’s forearm, but instead kept her body to herself, focusing on her cigarette which had been unattended until now.
“It’s not something I’d want to do in any circumstance. But it’s the logical choice to ask me.”
It took everything in Regulus not to fight with her, not to jump on the words that cut as she spoke them. Doesn’t he deserve the chance to decide how he dies? He couldn’t argue the logic but the point was Regulus refused to except a happenstance where Sirius died at all. In that moment he knew an awful truth, if the scenario Alecto explained ever came to pass, Regulus would neither harm his brother nor stand by and watch him be harmed. It was a truth that could very likely get he and his brother killed.
“My brother is anything but logical,” Regulus spat, more bitter than he intended. His irritation with the situation was seeping in where it didn’t belong, he knew that. If anything, this was oddly rational for Sirius and if Regulus didn’t hate it so much, he would acknowledge that. Regulus longed to tell Alecto to make a new promise, a different one. Not to harm Sirius in his stead but to help him should it ever come to protecting the older boy. But - as close as they were even now - to ask that would be admitting what a weakness his brother was, and he would not do that. He couldn’t, for Sirius’ own sake. “Let us hope you never need to make good on that promise,” he said instead, hoping she understood his meaning. “I can guarantee, none will like the outcome should you be forced to.”
Alecto understood Regulus’s bitterness towards the whole situation. She felt fondly towards him as Sirius’s brother, and as someone who was bonded with her own brother, she felt a kinship in him as only those with troubled brother’s could feel. “It’s a logical choice, Regulus. Probably the first one that Sirius has made in awhile.” Now she was the one who was bitter. Though she’d be hard pressed to tell anyone, Alecto was bitter for what Sirius had done to her. She would’ve given anything to have him stay on their side and marry her- it was selfish and wrong, but it didn’t stop Alecto from wanting it regardless.
“It’s not something I want to do, Regulus.” she whispered. “I don’t even know if I can- but I promised.” For the first time she allowed a small amount of fear to enter her voice as she spoke about killing the man that meant far too much to the two of them standing there.
He may not have been able to admit it but Alecto spoke the words he knew well. It was logical. It was so damn logical and Regulus hated it. Of all the stupid, hare brained, illogical, impulsive things his brother did, in this he had to be smart? And practical? He knew, though, that Alecto was telling the truth. He could hear it in the way her normally sure and strong voice dropped to a whisper, and he couldn’t stay so hard and cold and and angry, not with her. It wasn’t her he was mad at to begin with. He heard the fear in her voice and his own harsh edge dissipated.
“Then don’t do Ally,” he said with a softer voice, one he’d not used with anyone outside of his family in far too long and using a nickname he’d not spoken in years. Not since before Sirius had left. “Not for me.” He pressed his lips together, wondering if he could trust her. Wondering if he could say to her the things he shouldn’t dare to say to anyone. “I couldn’t stand by and watch Sirius die,” he said finally, hoping she understood the meaning behind that. That he would not stand by and watch if Sirius was in danger, but that he’d leave any loyalties behind in a heartbeat if it meant protecting his brother from imminent danger. “My brother doesn’t understand what he’s asking if he thinks that I would.”
Alecto turned to face away from him, not trusting herself to keep her emotions in check- She felt her chest tighten as he called her Ally- something that was reserved for only a handful of people. “You know I don’t have a choice if it comes to it, Reg. You and I both know that you can’t do it. And I know that as much as I love and believe in Amycus, it would kill him or drive him to madness.” She hated the idea of besmirching her brother’s reputation- but if it was the only way to have Regulus see reason then she needed to.
In a moment of uncertainty she reached for his hand in an attempt to comfort them both. Alecto had the misfortune of knowing exactly how it must feel to be in Regulus’s shoes, having a brother of her own that she loved dearly. “I don’t think it would be expected that you stand and watch-” Though the moment the words left her mouth she knew that perhaps that is exactly what they would do to poor Regulus. “Please- try to put it out of your mind. WE can cross the bridge when we come to it.” Her mind, however, was made up.
He didn’t protest as she turned away, he understood the need for that kind of semi privacy. But as she said again that he wouldn’t be able to do it, he reeled. It was true, he wouldn’t, but the point of the matter was that he wouldn’t brook anyone doing it in his stead either. If it came to that, Regulus would fight against whatever idiot thought it prudent to pit brother against brother. And if Alecto insisted on keeping her stupid promise in his presence, she would have very little time to choose to keep her promise and be counted among those he fought, or to help him. He knew no amount of arguing on the matter now, though, would help and so he simply squared his jaw and said nothing. He could not help the glare that accompanied his feelings on the subject but he kept his vitriolic words to himself.
As she took his hand he wrapped his own fingers around hers, glad for the Carrows and the way they had always been good to him and his brother. His glare softened and he understood the predicament Alecto was in, even if her refusal to see his point irritated him. He had to stifle a sarcastic and callous chuckle at his words. He would be surprised if he wasn’t expected to stand and watch. His brother was a blood traitor after all. What better way to make him prove his loyalty than to force him to take a final stand against him. “I am far more likely to set fire to the bridge,” was all he said, but he took her advice and let the subject rest. “Look out for your brother, Ally,” he said finally. “Leave Sirius to me.”
Their was a familial connection between the two that Alecto felt, and she was grateful for it. She was learning every day that this was not a lifestyle for the weary, and to have someone with whom she could lower her mask, even partially, was a blessing. But she could sense Regulus’s tension beneath his surface, and she knew it well enough to not push it any further. She had nothing to gain regardless. She’d given her two cents and told Regulus of her promise- that’s all she could do at this point.
“It seems that if I have an hour spent without thought of my brother, it is a rare one.” She shrugged her shoulders to indicate a semblance of indifference, but she felt anything but. She loved her brother more than life itself, but she had to wonder what her life would be like if she was on her own. The idea seemed unimaginable to her. She yearned for something that she couldn’t even understand. “They’re our weakness, it seems. Our brothers seem to be a very vulnerable extension of ourselves. But maybe that’s the nature of sibling, and we are just as fragile as we perceive them to be.” She shook her head twice before reaching into her pocket and pulling out another cigarette. “My apologies, all of this” She waved her hand ambiguously ‘tends to make me a bit to philosophical for my own good.”
Regulus was familiar with the sentiment, having Sirius pulled from so much of his life did not lessen the amount of time spent thinking - and worrying - about him. He envied Alecto and Amycus their ability to be free with their closeness, the way they didn’t have to think twice about being seen together, eating at the same table, sharing a conversation. They were small luxuries one didn’t appreciate until one was no longer able to enjoy them. Despite their forced separation beginning to take hold even seven years ago, Regulus still felt the sting of it’s loss.
“It’s absolutely the nature of siblings,” he affirmed with a wry smile. “Sirius is more protective of me than I am even of him, though I’m not sure either of us perceive the other to be fragile, exactly.” He paused for a moment to find the exact words to express his meaning. “Undeserving,” he settled on, “of the pain he’s been caused. That’s a better way, I think, to describe it. Sirius is strong, he can handle nearly anything. I simply don’t believe he should have to.” The words, though seemingly benign and innocent, were in truth anything but and he knew Alecto would recognize that. He also knew, though,that he could trust her with them. At her apology, he couldn’t help but lighten a bit, even smirk. “You’re in good company,” he informed. He didn’t need special circumstances to be philosophical. It was an unknown fact to all but Sirius and Narcissa, but Regulus hadn’t been mean for Slytherin. He was a Ravenclaw at heart, philosophical thoughts and musings came as easily to him as breathing.
Four days. She hadn’t spoken to him alone in four days and she knew he knew something horrible was going on. She wondered if he knew what was coming. She’d written him to ask him to see her, not even daring to ask him in person. If she saw him any sooner than she’d planned, she didn’t think she could do it. Hell, she wasn’t sure she could do this anyway. She stood outside on one of the many balconies Hogwarts had to offer, just off the fifth floor. She held a cigarette between her slender fingers but she wasn’t smoking it. She didn’t want to, but the smell of it calmed her. She tried not to think that that was only because it reminded her of him.
When she heard the balcony doors open and subsequently close, clicking in to place, Emma didn’t turn. She couldn’t. She squeezed her eyes shut and took several long breaths, dropping the cigarette down to the ground far below them so he wouldn’t see, though the smell had doubtless lingered. She stood up a little straighter, squaring her shoulders, and forced herself not to grip the railing in front of her like it was the only thing she had left holding her to the earth. She heard his soft footsteps approach, more hurried than usual. She only had seconds left and she still couldn’t turn. She didn’t know what to do. Emma knew what she had to do, but even now that the time had come, she wasn’t sure she could do it.
“Regulus…” Her voice was soft, but it cut through the silence like a knife. “I need to speak with you.”
For three weeks, things between he and Emma had been better than he could ever have imagined. He’d asked her to Hogsmeade thinking they would have a good time and perhaps they would learn they liked spending time together. He’d never intended to feel so strongly for her and so quickly. Regulus was an observant being, it wasn’t lost on him how hard he had fallen for Emma but it still took him by surprise how much his world had shifted to center around her when suddenly she removed herself from it.
They hadn’t spoken since Halloween. Not really. They were in class together, of course, and spoke at Quidditch practices or when she couldn’t manage to avoid him. But he’d not had a moment alone with her. He hadn’t held her hand or kissed her lips, hadn’t seen the shy smile she wore when he called her beautiful and hadn’t seen her blush when he told her how wonderful she was. His arms ached to hold her and every day she avoided him he wondered what he had done wrong.
When he got the letter, just seeing his name on the envelope had been bad enough. That she had resorted to writing him formally to ask to see him instead of coming to him herself was like a punch to the gut. He dreaded going, knowing nothing good would come out of it, and yet he couldn’t deny himself an opportunity to see her alone. And so he went, clammy hands slipped into pockets, stained with the smell of the cigarettes he’d been smoking relentlessly all day. She didn’t turn when he closed the door behind him and joined her on the balcony and he used that moment to take her in as he always did, to bask in how fortunate he was to even be in her company. But then she spoke and the tone in her voice promised an unpleasant encounter.
“Emma, what’s wrong?” he asked, his own society mask falling away when it was just the two of them together. His concern and his worry won out over caution and indifference. “You’ve been so distant - have I done something to upset you?" He longed to cross the space between them and pull her into his arms but he forced himself to stay still, to keep his hands to himself. If she wanted him she would have come to him, he would respect the distance she so clearly wanted to keep.
All he had to do was speak and her breath hitched and nearly froze in her chest. She bowed her head and didn’t answer, not for three very long seconds. She counted them and gave herself no longer. She shouldn’t have needed that long. She was yelling at herself for not being better, for not being able to keep hold of her control while she was with him. She’d dropped her guard too often and now she couldn’t put it back up the way she’d done so many times before. Hearing the hesitation, the anguish in his voice was an agony she’d never wanted to know. She should never have let this happen.
“No,” she whispered. “No, Regulus. You’ve not upset me.” Her breathing was uneven and painful as it caught behind her ribs, and she pressed her hand against them to try to calm herself. Five seconds. She had five seconds to pull herself together. She didn’t speak only forced herself to breathe, to calm herself, to knit her features together in to the mask she’d worn so perfectly for years. She repeated the words her mother had beat in to her skull over and over again Be perfect, do as you’re told. Do your duty. You don’t have a choice. She focused on the words instead of him and it was the only way she could do this.
She exhaled slowly and turned to look at him, her expression calm and collected. She knew he’d see right through it, would see the truth in the way she started to reach for him but stilled her hands by grasping them together in front of her, in the way her eyes softened when she searched his face, in the tiny drop of her rigid shoulders that screamed that she didn’t want this. No one else would have seen, but he would know. He knew, and that made it so much worse.
She swallowed, her throat dry and thick like she’d tried to swallow sand. She didn’t smile when she looked at him, ignored the fluttering in her chest, the giddy bubbling she always felt when he was near her. She pushed it down and made it stay. She opened her mouth to speak, but only took another deep breath, exhaling it in a sigh. Do what you must. “I can’t be with you anymore.”
She still hadn’t turned to look at him but that didn’t stop him from taking in every aspect of her standing there at the rail. The way she bowed her head, the way her hands gripped the rail as if it were keeping her standing. She didn’t answer right away and while he waited he watched the muscles in her neck tense and her shoulders rise and fall with her uneven breathing. Each second only made him want to hold her more, it was obvious she was distressed and he wanted nothing like he wanted to sooth her but he did not move, his own hands balling into fists in his pockets to keep them still.
She said he didn’t upset her but something obviously had. He opened his mouth to say so, to ask what had upset her if it wasn’t him, but that he stopped as well. She had called him here for a reason, to tell him something, and it was clear to him how hard this was for her already. He wouldn’t complicate things, asking questions quickly and without pause, until she had told him what she had asked him here to tell.
His resolve nearly faltered when she turned around, that mask he hadn’t seen in full force in weeks firmly in place on her delicate features. To see it there again when his own defenses were so dropped felt like a knife to his gut. He could see through the cracks, of course, the little imperfections that told him how distressed she was thought she longed to hide it. He wanted to take her hands and meet her eyes, to rub the tension from her shoulders and tell her whatever it was they would face it together.
But then she spoke and the knife in his gut twisted. Sharp pain shot through his chest as words he had not anticipated filled the air. He hadn’t truly known what he had expected from this meeting but this wasn’t it. He opened his mouth to speak and for the first time in his life he found himself without words. He couldn’t find words to describe the way he felt, the confusion and the pain. And so instead he squared his jaw, withdrew into himself, as he often did when he became too emotional to think clearly. It was the only way he knew to harness his thoughts. "What’s happened?“ he asked again. "Emma, please. You know you can tell me anything. I don’t - I don’t understand.” He hated that he couldn’t control the pain in his voice as easily as he could control it in his face, it rang out quite against his will.
She shook her head at his question. “Nothing happened,” she said. His voice was tumultuous but hers was calmer than ever, devoid of emotion that was so clear in her stance. They were opposites that way; he couldn’t hide from his voice what she couldn’t hide from her face. “Nothing has happened,” she said again. “But it will.” He knew what she was talking about before he had to ask, before she explained, but she couldn’t leave any room for question. Not in this.
“My mother has written to me,” she said. She hadn’t written recently, but recently enough that Emma knew her days were numbered. “My husband is to be named at any time… We both know it will not be you. It isn’t right, what we’ve done. What we’ve allowed ourselves. I cannot–” Emma faltered, though her voice was still even and almost cold. No. She couldn’t. She couldn’t do it. Not like this.
Her steps were almost silent as she moved to stand in front of him. Every inch that disappeared between them made it harder for her to convince herself that this was what she needed to do. How could she ever need to be away from him? How could she ever need to hurt him? It was wrong. It was so horribly fucking wrong, but she had to do it anyway. Her fingers trembled as she lifted her hand to his face, cupping his cheek gently. When she spoke, her voice was softer, almost a whisper, but with all the gentleness she’d ever shown him before. “I can’t, Reggie,” she murmured. “Despite what I want, what I feel… you know this can’t continue.”
He wanted her to give into what he saw in her stance, the way she was almost forcing herself to keep her distance from him. He wanted that to be an invitation, for it to mean the could close that distance and pull her into his arms but he knew it wasn’t. If she was working so hard to stay away from him, he could not intrude on that space, no matter how desperately he needed to hold her in his arms and convince himself that he wasn’t losing her. Because this felt very much like he was losing her and that reality was tearing him apart inside.
Her voice, unlike his, was clear and calm. No emotion ran through it, concealed or otherwise, and it was another strike against him by that invisible weapon she was wielding so deftly. As she spoke his ire rose, not to a hot overwhelming temper but to a cold hate of the truths she spoke. It was the way of their society, it was the truth of their futures, and while he had always known it, it had never been so close before. And he had never hated it with such a passion.
“How do you know?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking. He knew he should respect her wishes but he couldn’t. He simply couldn’t just let her pull away like this. "What if it is me? And even if it’s not we - “ Perhaps he wouldn’t have been so quick to buck against the tradition they’d both grown up in the shadow of if he hadn’t a month ago received news that pushed him so far away from his mother and all she represented. So much of what he felt and had shared with Emma would never have come to pass if not for that and now that shift in his allegiance was coming back to haunt him.
He had managed to control himself up until this point but as her hand came up to cup his cheek he couldn’t ignore it. He pulled a hand from his pocket, lifting it to cover hers and lace his fingers through her own. His name, shortened on her tongue, came in a different tone then the rest of her speech and it tugged at his heart painfully. "I don’t know it,” he insisted, unconcerned with hiding his emotions from face or voice. "Nothing has been set in stone,“ he pointed out, knowing he was grasping at straws but grasping anyway. "Nothing except how I feel for you. It doesn’t have to be this way.” His other hand reached out to take hers, the one on his cheek bringing her knuckles to her lips where he pressed a desperate kiss against her skin. "We don’t have to do this.“
Her expression, for just one moment, crumpled. For just one instant she was a heartbroken sixteen year old and not a grown woman in a society that, for the first time ever, she wanted no part in. If it was going to tear this boy away from her, and she had no doubts that it would, then she hated it. She hated everything that kept them apart, that caused such anguish in him. His pain was worse than hers and she’d have done anything to stop it. She could cope with her own emotions, her own brokenness, but his? His she couldn’t handle.
He took her hand and she knew she should pull away, but she couldn’t bring herself to. This was it. This was the last time she’d ever be allowed to touch him, to be real with him. They would never see one another’s vulnerabilities again and she wanted desperately to cling to this moment, to him, forever. But she couldn’t. She wanted to show him how shattered she was, but the second she let him see, she knew he would never let go of it again. That he would cling to it and pick apart her defenses out of desperation, and she couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t because she knew he would win.
“It won’t be you,” she whispered. Her thumb brushed over his cheek until he pulled her hand away to kiss it as he had so many times before. She let him take her other hand and gripped it harder than she should have. She wanted to remember what this felt like, to be so close to him, to hold on to him even in this small way, but she knew the memory would fade far sooner than she could ever stand for it to. “You know my position, Reggie… You know your mother. What we want… it doesn’t matter.” Her voice nearly cracked and she cleared her throat to keep it from doing so again. She took half a step closer to him, nearly stepped in to his arms, but if she did she knew she’d never leave.
“Yes we do.” The words were barely audible. They were the ones she’d dreaded the most, the ones she used to argue with him. She didn’t want that. But there wasn’t another way. “I must obey. I don’t have a choice.” She reached up to cup his face in both her hands and didn’t speak til she was sure his eyes wouldn’t look away from hers. “None of this matters, Regulus,” she murmured. “None of what we want matters. You know that. We knew it when we started this.” She wanted to look away but if he couldn’t, she couldn’t either. In that instant, that gut-wrenching, horrible instant, she realized why it was so hard. “I love you, Reggie.” She hadn’t meant to say it aloud, whispered and bewildered though it was. She could only stare at him for a moment, vulnerable and weak, but there it was.
Five seconds. That was all she would give herself. She moved forward, standing on her toes as she’d so often done to press her lips to his. Four seconds. She tried to memorize what it felt like. Three seconds and she breathed him in for the last time. Two seconds and she wanted to cry. One second and she broke away. By the time that second ended, she stepped back, her hands dropping away from him. She couldn’t touch him again or she was sure she’d break from the pain of it. “It doesn’t matter.” She wasn’t sure if she was saying it to him or to herself. She lowered her eyes, couldn’t look at him anymore. “….Goodnight, Regulus.”
He knew she was probably right, the odds were stacked against them. Regulus was not one who held onto hopes that were supported only by wishes and not by actual facts or chances but to this one - and to her - he clung. It didn’t make any sense, the idea of them being matched, but when the alternative was losing her he wished for it with every fiber of his being. He had never questioned this before, had never dreaded the day his mother would announce his match like he did now. He had never anticipated losing control of himself so completely as to let himself develop feelings for someone like this. It was unlike him, out of the ordinary and unlikely in the extreme, but now that it had happened he didn’t know how to let her go. Not when neither of them wanted it.
Knowing she didn’t want this, that was what made it so impossible. She took his face in her hands and his own hands covered them. Every words she said, he rebelled against. He didn’t care what they were supposed to do or what was expected of them, he cared only about her. About seeing her happy. He would have given her the world if she would have let him, would singlehandedly have cast off every worry or trouble that plagued her if only she would allow him to do it. To protect her and make her well being his sole concern. "I don’t care,“ he found himself saying before he knew he’d decided to. "I don’t care what is expected of us or chosen for us. Only you matter, Emma.”
And then she said it. She loved him. And if he thought that he had been in pain before, it was nothing compared to the way he felt now. Because he knew two things instantly as he heard those words. The first was that he loved her back. With every fiber of his being he had fallen irrevocably in love with her. And the second was that even though he loved her, he was still going to lose her. He didn’t gather his thoughts quick enough to speak before she pressed her lips to his and when she did, he kissed her back. For five seconds she was his entire world and he made sure she knew it. Five. It was not the fiery passionate kisses fueled with quidditch adrenaline or the deep emotional kisses they shared in one another’s arms. Four. He kissed her now simply and chastely. And with every ounce of love he felt for her pouring into it. Three. He fought the urge to pull her into his arms, his hands resting feather light on her hips. Two. He could feel her pulling away and his hands tangled in the fabric of her dress, unwilling to let her go. One second left and he imprinted this moment, as terrible as it was, in his mind to hold on to. The last time he kissed her, the last time she was his.
When she pulled away he felt like she took all his breath and his will with her, he wanted nothing if it wasn’t her in his arms again. As she controlled herself, dropping her eyes from his and holding her hands away, he lost all control. His heartbreak was clear on his face and he couldn’t find the desire to hide it. His eyes were red as if he had been crying, though no tears stained his cheeks. "Don’t go,“ he begged as she said goodnight. His voice was raspy and this was the only time he would beg her. He saw how much pain this caused her and while he had to try this once, he would not drag this out if she was resolved. He would not hurt her more than she was already hurting. "Please Emma. I love you. Stay with me.”
She felt him clinging to her, felt everything in both of them screaming to stay right where they were, to allow themselves the beauty of what they’d found in each other when it was so soon going to be so irrevocably denied them. And then he begged her. He pleaded with her to stay, his voice broken to the point that she was terrified to look up at his face. She visibly cringed, her eyes closed, and turned her face away. Don’t look. Don’t look or you’ll never look away.
She wanted to plead with him in return, beg him to take it back. He loved her and she knew it wasn’t a lie. She wanted to be able to laugh and kiss him and and make it the joyful moment it should have been. But it wasn’t. Knowing he loved her was the most painful thing in the world because she had to walk away. She had to. Not just for herself, not because it was what her family expected, but because it was what his family expected. Walburga Black had already lost one son and heir and she knew there would be no fury like his mother’s scorn if Emma were to cause her to lose another. She had enough sense to know it wasn’t an option. Unless she was given to him, and she wouldn’t be, it was never going to happen.
Emma was terrified. She had no idea what her future was going to bring, but she knew then it would never be a happy one. If she wasn’t with him, she knew it would never be a good and wonderful life and it scared her. Whoever she was given to, sold to, might be kind to her. It was the most she could hope for, simple decency, and she knew it was hoping for too much. Her childhood was over, and her happiness with it. She’d come to expect this outcome, come to accept it long ago but she’d never in her life imagined the sacrifice that Regulus made it.
She took in a shuddering breath and knew she had seconds left before her composure broke entirely. Her hands twisted in her skirt, wringing the fabric so harshly it might tear and she didn’t care. She couldn’t look at him again. She took one step, then another, and then she didn’t stop. She walked to him, then past him, and the moment he was behind her she forgot how to breathe. It hurt like nothing had ever hurt before in her life. She felt her shoulders starting to shake with sobs she could not utter here, not in his presence. She wasn’t strong enough for that.
Emma had no idea where to go, who to run to. She just knew she had to leave now or she’d never manage it. Her hand hovered above the handle of the door for just a moment, hesitating as though she were afraid it would burn her. She didn’t know what to say, what words to leave him with. What would possibly be good enough? She could feel burning in her eyes, feel the wetness of unshed tears gathering on her lashes.
“Thank you,” she finally whispered. “For showing me what it was to be happy.”
She forced herself to turn the handle, to push open the door and step through it. She left not a moment too soon. As soon as she left him, she started to cry, and she wasn’t going to stop for a very long time.
She wouldn’t look at him but he couldn’t look away. His eye stung as if burned, the stinging pain of crying though his eyes were dry. The pain he felt was beyond simple tears, it invaded him heart and soul, into his bones and his very being. She cringed as he asked her to stay and he knew he couldn’t do it again. One thing she had said was true, this wasn’t about what he wanted. He wanted to beg and plead pull her into his arms, to convince her she was wrong and to tell her over and over how desperately he loved and needed her. But she was in pain, pain he was making worse, and he couldn’t bear that. So as much as it would destroy him, he would not ask her again.
She began to walk toward him, though, and he stupidly allowed himself hope that she would walk into his arms, only to have those paltry hopes dashed as she walked past him. He couldn’t breath as she did, couldn’t turn his head to watch. She faded out of his peripheral vision and when she did he clenched his eyes shut against the loss of her image, hands curling into fists again with the strength it took to hold his ground. When he didn’t immediately hear the door open, only then did he turn to look at her again. She was not facing him - would never look at him again, a fact that left him desolate - and he could see her shoulders shaking with tears she refused to shed in his presence. He clenched his teeth to the point of pain, hating ever moment she suffered that he could not ease her pain.
For the second time in his life, he found himself speechless. There was nothing he could offer in response to her words and even if there was, he wouldn’t have trusted himself to manage it. His voice was caught in his throat, mangled there with sobs and screams he could not utter. He watched her go and with her went every shred of his happiness, every joy he had known. He watched her go and knew as the door swung shut behind her that any hope of future happiness was dashed without her. He had left his heart unattended and she had stolen it, whether she was his or not she would always have that. Once she was gone, any will to remain strong left him and he felt his legs go weak with the strain.
He could hardly think, couldn’t make sense of any of what had just happened. He didn’t know what to do, where to go from here. Regulus Black was utterly at a loss. He turned away from the door, the last place he had seen her, and instead moved to the railing. He leaned heavily against it, looking out onto the grounds without seeing anything there. All he could see was her face, straining so hard to hide the pain she felt as she told him she couldn’t be his. That expression would haunt him, and he knew he would carry it with him all of his days.
The letter came at breakfast but Regulus rarely read them then. He hadn’t for years, not since his brother had left home. At first he’d tried to stop reading them altogether; then he read them in secret, not wanting people to know he still cared so much for his brother. Now it was just habit. He and Sirius had more than reconciled but that wasn’t exactly common knowledge. It couldn’t be, not if Regulus intended to keep Sirius as safe as he could. His brother didn’t need any help attracting negative attention from the people Regulus called friends. And so when this letter dropped in front of his plate, he pocketed it with the intention of reading it when he went back to his dorm to fetch his things for class.
It was halfway through the first class period when he could finally move again, when he could drag his mind into some form of coherent thought and process what he had read, what he was feeling. When he finally did, one thought was foremost in his mind. He needed to see Sirius. Now.
Best he could remember, his brother had History of Magic in this slot and he all but ran through the castle to Professor Binns’ classroom. He didn’t even have a plan in mind, a lie or a ruse to get Sirius out of class. He just needed to see him. Knocking on the door he stuck his head into the room, scanning it until he saw Sirius.
“My boy, can I help you? You’re not meant to be in this class.” The ghost in front of the room had noticed him and as he called attention to him, Regulus had nothing to say. Nothing coherent anyway.
“Please, sir,” he began, his normally steady voice the tiniest bit out of his control. “Sirius -” he struggled for a lie, an excuse, anything “ - the - uh - the Headmaster -” It was the best he could do, and his eyes searched for Sirius’, this time pleading for assistance in addition to showing his brother how desperately he needed to see him.
Sirius wasn’t sure how he felt. He felt both calmer and irrationally irritable at the same time having sent that letter. He’d never told anyone about the things he’d said in it before, and even now knowing it was out of his hands, he still wasn’t sure he should have sent it. He didn’t know what Reggie would think or, fuck, what he might do. That was the worst of it, not knowing how it would be received. He wished he could have told him in person, but he’d never be able to find the words to speak them out loud and he knew it. But not being there, having this be so impersonal…. Well, he’d just have to see.
It was strange going back to classes now, and part of him wished he hadn’t. He was antsy and restless, even though he was sitting in his favorite class. He didn’t think he’d ever been so grateful for Marlene’s presence in that class as he was for it today. She didn’t know what he’d done, and even if he’d said he sent a letter she would have had no idea how heavy its contents were. But even without knowing, she reached under the table and took his hand, running her fingers over his skin and it calmed him. It took the edge off and he needed it.
He wasn’t the only one startled by the interruption that never came, especially in this class. His eyes widened when he saw his little brother. Regulus looked pale and shaken, at least to Sirius. To anyone else, he probably looked as calm and collected as ever. But that stutter, that tiny hesitation of words and the minuscule waver in his voice told Sirius everything he needed to know.
He sighed heavily, pretending to be annoyed, and stood. “Merlin, thought I’d gotten it past him this time.” He waved his brother off with a roll of his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’.” He flashed a grin at Professor Binns. “I’ll read all about it for next time, yeah? Gotta be prepared.” Of course, he’d already read it. Professor Binns barely seemed to take any mind of him leaving; they got on well anyway, so he wouldn’t have raised a fuss even if he were more strict about discipline.
Sirius’ steps were deliberately casual as he followed his little brother out of the classroom but the second they were alone, his pretense dropped. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He knew very well what he thought was wrong, given the timing, but if Regulus was freaking out - which he was - then Sirius knew he needed to be calm. He reached out to grab his shoulders gently. “Hey, it’s ok. Everything’s ok.”
Regulus couldn’t process this, couldn’t think. He was always so logical and rational and he analyzed everything but now he was simply swirling around in a vast array of disjointed thoughts and feelings and fears and he couldn’t make sense of any of it. He didn’t know which end was up anymore and what’s more, he didn’t know what he could hold on to to keep him from drowning in it all. He wasn’t even sure why he needed to see his brother so desperately, how to justify the panic that had risen in his chest. The contents of the letter had been horrible, life altering even, but the events they discussed took place almost two ears ago. He had seen Sirius since then, had spoken to him and held him and had seen that the older wizard was alive and well and remarkably well adjusted for someone who had endured what he had.
But all the same, Regulus needed to see him. As if sometime between the moment he got the letter until now, Sirius may have fallen apart on him, as if in this short time he could have been completely lost.
Sirius reacted to his presence at the classroom door as if any other prefect were collecting him to be punished for any other prank, a regular occurrence no one would think twice on, and Regulus was so grateful that his brother could keep himself together when he was falling to pieces. He didn’t walk far into the hall, just far enough that Sirius could join him well clear of the classroom door and once they were in relative privacy, the sorry excuse for composure he’d been holding onto dropped completely. Sirius put his hands on his shoulders and he reached up to grip his brother’s wrists, as if he needed to know he was really there and was really real and this hadn’t all just been some hideous dream.
What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything. Everything was wrong and Reggie wanted to scream with how wrong everything was but he couldn’t even get out a single word. He stood there, mouth opening and closing as he tried to even figure out where to start explaining the panic that was lodged in his throat. When he knew he couldn’t, he shook his head and released Sirius’ hands, throwing himself into his brother’s arms. He buried his face against the older boy’s neck the way he’d done when he was a child. "I’m sorry I didn’t say it back,“ he found himself saying, his voice muffled against Sirius’ neck. That night, that hideous, awful, miserable night when Sirius had left, his brother had told him he loved him and Sirius had said nothing. Even when they reunited, when Regulus told him he loved him, he hadn’t realized what he was doing. Only when he read that letter, when he knew everything about that night, did he realize what he’d done. "I should’ve known, I should’ve seen - I didn’t - and you - I should’ve said it back. You should’ve had that, when you went. I’m so sorry.”
Sirius had not expected this, for this level of panic to be pushed in to Regulus’ chest after reading that letter. He’d never doubted for a second that he wanted to tell him, that he wanted Regulus to know how much he trusted him still, but maybe it was wrong to do it like this. Maybe he shouldn’t have told him so soon or in a letter rather than in person. Maybe he should have found a way to say it aloud. But none of that would fix the look of terror on his baby’s face.
He hadn’t expected Regulus to throw himself in his arms, but he caught him instantly and hugged him as fiercely as he could manage. He pressed gentle kisses to his brother’s temple, reminding him as much as he could that he was there. He’d done the same thing a thousand times when they were young and Reggie was scared or had bad dreams, before he learned to lock himself away inside his head. He hoped it wasn’t so long ago that his brother didn’t remember it, that he’d know what he was trying to say with the gesture even if he didn’t express it out loud.
Sirius’ breath caught slightly when Regulus started apologizing. Remember the night he left home ached constantly, but that had always been the worst part. That had torn him to shreds and left him doubting not only his brother’s love for him, but his love for everyone else. It had been a downward spiral of emotional turmoil that had taken those around him years to begin to understand, and it had started with the silent rejection Regulus spoke of. But that didn’t make it his fault. He’d only been fourteen and Sirius had never told him how bad things had gotten so he wouldn’t understand. He hadn’t wanted him to, hadn’t thought he ought to need to understand.
He stroked his brother’s hair gently and shook his head. “I had it,” he murmured in return. “I had it, baby. I know. I don’t doubt it at all, not for a second.” He had, but not now. Not after everything else. He pulled back to look his brother in the eye, his hands on either side of his face. He hushed him gently, his thumbs brushing over his cheeks. “Baby, I’m ok. Yeah? Look at me. I’m fine. I’m ok.” His voice was soft, as calming as he could make it. “It’s not your fault. You know that, don’t you? None of what happened in that house had anything at all to do with you. Nothing you did or didn’t do could have stopped it. It’s ok. Breathe, baby. Just breathe. Everything’s going to be fine.”
He knew that this would put Sirius on guard, that seeing him like this would bring out every protective and comforting instinct the older boy had ever had, that this was the worst it had been since they were kids between them. In this direction at least. More than once in the short month they’d been in school, Regulus had been the one holding and Sirius the one needing to be held, but now Regulus clung to his brother like an anchor in a storm. He felt his brother’s lips against his temple and he knew what they meant, felt it deep into his bones, and they helped now as they had then. They steadied him, assured him that Sirius was there, he was really there, and he would be as long as Regulus needed him.
He shook his head against his brother’s assurances, knowing they weren’t true. Not completely. He knew now, that Regulus loved him, the younger wizard had made sure of it. But of the two years between that night and the beginning of this term? "Don’t do that,“ Regulus implored. "Don’t - don’t sugarcoat it because I’m upset. Just because you know it’s true now, you believe now - you needed me, Sirius. You - You were always there when we were growing up, even when I was a prat or I preened because Moth - ” he stumbled over that word. Mother. " - because she suddenly decided I was that favorite - you were always fucking there and I - you needed me and I didn’t say a word.“
He only realized as his brother told him to breathe that he hadn’t been and he made a concerted effort to do that, focusing on drawing breath in and out. As oxygen returned to his brain, he did finally start making some logical thought processes. "I couldn’t have stopped it,” he agreed. He knew that, he wasn’t meant to have stopped it. But he could have done something. "I could have been there. I could have - “ he didn’t know how to put it into words, how to explain the distinction he had in his mind. "I could have been your brother,” he attempted. "Not her son.“
Sirius sighed when his brother rebelled against what he was saying. He’d half expected that. But what could he say? How could he possibly explain just how horrible that night had been, how devastating it had been to be denied the one thing he’d wanted to have before he left for good? But he hadn’t explained then, hadn’t told Regulus why it was so important that he know and understand that Sirius loved him. He’d been barely more than a child at the time - what other response could really have been expected for a fourteen year old? He’d have said the same thing to Regulus whether or not he was upset, though that he was so shaken was terrible to watch. But he was asking his brother for the truth, and Sirius had never been able to deny him anything.
He sighed heavily and shook his head, at a loss for words for a moment. He carefully brushed his brother’s hair back from his face while he tried to find the words that he needed. He hated how difficult words were for him still, even here when he needed them. Regulus understood words, clung to them the way Sirius did physical expression, and he needed to make sure they were the right ones before he gave them. Nearly a full minute passed before he spoke again. “It hurt,” he admitted gently. “More than I can tell you. And it scared the hell out of me that maybe I was wrong, that maybe your love was as conditional as theirs. I stopped sayin’ it to other people. Didn’t say it once til I saw you last month, not ever. Thought if there was even a chance you didn’t…well, then I didn’t want anyone else to either. Didn’t want to love anyone if it wasn’t enough for you. It felt wrong. But that’s not on you, baby. That’s on me. That’s on me bein’ stupid and thick and not knowin’ people could show it and not say it. You tried steppin’ between me an’ her more than once. You let me sit with you when I couldn’t handle it anymore. I pulled away first, Reggie, not you.”
Hearing his brother take in that first deeper breath was good, but it wasn’t enough yet. He pulled Regulus back in to his arms, his hand rubbing gently between his brother’s shoulders. “You were there,” he insisted. “Fuckin’ prat that you were sometimes,” he teased very gently, “you were still there. Always been my brother even if some days you didn’t wanna be. It’s not somethin’ your attitude can change, baby. I knew that. One of the only lessons she ever taught me what stuck. This shit…it’s on her, Reggie. Not you. Never you.”
As much as it hurt - and it did - Regulus was thankful that Sirius didn’t argue with him, didn’t deny him the truth he’d been afraid to hear. For too long he’d been the protected second son, the one who only reacted to the things around him instead of being a part of them. He had been a part of this, without realizing it, and he had hurt the one person who had always meant the most to him. "I let you go,“ he returned, knowing that it was the past and it couldn’t be fixed or changed but needing to say this anyway. "You wrote me, once you left. I could have answered, I could have asked why or I could have told you it was okay and I didn’t. I thought - I didn’t think. That’s the problem. I didn’t think and I didn’t know what I’d done. Nothing you could ever do could make me stop loving you, Sirius. You know that, right? I mean - you really know it? For good this time? Even if I’m a prat again and I mess everything up - ” And he would. That was the scary part. They both knew he would, both knew that he would, though night of them would say it, and he suddenly needed Sirius to know that even when that happened, he would never stop loving him.
When Sirius pulled him back in, he went willingly, his arms wrapped tight around his brother’s waist and his face buried against the older boy’s shoulder. He chuckled thickly was Sirius called him a prat, tightening his arms for a moment. "I should have been a better one, then,“ he said. It wasn’t an argument or a protest, it was a statement of what he considered fact. "I should have been the brother you taught me to be.”
“You were a kid, baby. Fuck, you’re still a kid in some ways. It’s okay.” Yes, it had hurt like hell that Regulus had stopped writing, and not knowing if he even read them was worse, but at least he understood that much. He hadn’t entirely expected Regulus to write, and it really was alright, but he also didn’t know if he’d take that answer. “Knowin’ you read them makes all the difference,” he added after a moment, his voice still soft. “Not knowin’ if you did killed me, but not enough to stop writin’. Once I started again, I couldn’t stop. I just…I shoulda told you, baby, I’m sorry. I shoulda said it wasn’t your fault. I just didn’t want to think about it anymore, y’know? But you deserved better. You’re not the only one what fucked up.”
He knew what those questions were about without needing clarification, and he knew he didn’t stop the look of pain from crossing his face before Regulus saw it. He hadn’t meant to show him that, how terrified he was of what lay ahead of them, but Reggie wanted honesty. So he was going to get it. He cupped his brother’s face in his hand and sighed, but he nodded. “Yeah, baby. I know. Always.” He hesitated, not sure if he should continue, but he didn’t think it would do more harm than good, so he might as well. “I know what you want to choose, Reggie. M’not stupid. I saw that stuff you’ve got hangin’ in your room. You’ve wanted it for years. It scares the fuck out of me, it does. But I can’t stop you. I know that. It won’t stop me lovin’ you. Never could. And it won’t make you less my brother. You know that, right? Whatever you do. I fuckin’ meant it. Still do.”
He rubbed Regulus’ back when his brother clung to him and peppered kisses against his hair. He was glad to hear him laugh, even as subdued as it was. “You’re plenty good. You’re the only brother I ever wanted. Even when you were bein’ a piece of shit. You’re my baby. Brat and all.” He tightened his hold on him a little, clinging to him. “M’not perfect. We both know it. I fucked up worse than you ever did. You’re still perfect to me. Can’t change it. Not ever.”
Sirius might have used his youth to explain away how he’d acted but Regulus couldn’t let himself off so easily. His brother meant so much to him, he loved no one with the same passion and the same strength, youth didn’t excuse betraying that. He’d been selfish and stupid, there was not other way to explain it. When Sirius mentioned his letters, Regulus couldn’t help but jump in to assure him of that. "I read every one,“ he promised with a fervor that was more than necessary. "Merlin, Sirius, I read them like they were a life line. The only thing I had left of you. I don’t know what I’d have done if you stopped writing.” He’d clung to those letters in their time apart, trying to fool himself into thinking it was only due to morbid curiosity that he read them so voraciously, but knowing all along it was because of how much he missed his brother.
Regulus didn’t know if Sirius would address the subject he himself was so terrified to bring up but when he did, the younger boy could feel his stomach tie itself in knots. He believed so strongly in his choices, in the things he wanted out of his life, but all of that paled in comparison to one over arching fear that sat in the pit of his stomach. As his brother spoke, his hand pressed to Reg’s cheek, Regulus tangled a fist in his brother’s cloak as if holding on to keep from being swept away by the future they now spoke of. "I don’t want to lose you, Siri,“ he said finally. "When I - when we leave here and the real world takes over, I don’t want anything like I don’t want to lose you.” The words he spoke now were dangerous, words that could get him and Sirius killed if heard by the wrong people. They were words he swore he’d never say but now he couldn’t keep them in. "How do I do what I believe in but not lose you to it?“
As he clung to Sirius, wrapped in his arms, he was loathe to ever let go. Hearing him call him baby, a nickname so far out of date and yet still so comforting and perfect. "You’re perfect to me,” he said, echoing Sirius’ words at the same time he protested his older brother’s view of himself. "Love you Sirius. So fucking much. Always will.“
He knew Reggie read them. He knew he wouldn’t have decided to just the one time he happened to ask his brother to come see him. He knew he’d read them all or at least almost all of them, but hearing it said with such vehemence made it easier. It made him smile softer and more easily, knowing Regulus had been as desperate to get them as he’d been to send them all this time. The rest really just didn’t matter. Not anymore. It was all behind him and he wanted desperately for it to stay that way.
He felt his brother’s fist in his cloak and pressed just a little closer, trying to ease some of the anxiety he could see in his little brother’s face. What he was saying hurt like hell. For a moment, he didn’t know how to answer him. He had no idea what to say and he knew it showed. He took in a breath and tried not to let it be as unsteady as it was, but in the end he had no control over it. He brushed his hand over Reggie’s hair and shook his head, his expression falling. “I don’t want that life for you, baby,” he whispered. “I don’t want that darkness for you. All that pain and destruction, all the horrible things they do, I don’t fuckin’ want it for you. And I’d do anything to keep you from it, but I can’t. I just can’t…. It’s your choice and I know that, it’s just…” He looked away from him, his eyes anywhere but his brother’s face while he pushed back the urge his eyes felt to tear. They burned but that was all. He never really had control unless it came to Reggie, but even then there was much left to be desired. “I don’t…. I can’t support them, Reggie. I can’t. It scares the fuck out of me thinkin’ you’ll be with them. But you won’t ever lose me no matter what you do. I know they want me dead, I know it. I knew it before I left that this was what I was choosin’. But I won’t just lie down and die. I won’t, not if I don’t have to.” He looked back up and he didn’t say what was on his mind, but it was plain as day on his face.
He was begging. He was silently begging his brother with the words he couldn’t let himself say. Please don’t do this, baby. Please for the love of everything don’t fucking do this. He’d have given anything to be able to say it, but he couldn’t. This wasn’t his choice to make.
Hearing Regulus promise he loved him was the only thing that eased the ache that was back in his chest, wrought from the knowledge of the pain that was going to come to them far too soon. “I know,” he whispered back. “Promise I won’t forget this time.”
Sirius didn’t speak right away, Regulus could see that he had no answer to give, and it scared him. He was so terrified there was no answer to the question he’d asked. His brother and his ideals stood at such opposite ends of the spectrum, he knew deep in his chest there was no way to have one and the other without something being compromised. He knew his brother didn’t approve of his choices but this was the first time he’d said it like this. Straight out without being wrapped in other meanings and different conversations. This was the first time he’d told him in no uncertain terms that he didn’t want him to choose the Death Eaters. And in this moment, Regulus found it hard to remember his ideals and his beliefs and his opinions in light of his love for his brother. When Sirius had been gone, in the two years they didn’t speak, it had been easy to say Sirius made his choice and Regulus made his and they were each upholding their beliefs. But now, clinging to Sirius like a drowning man to a board, Regulus found it hard to care for his ideals when the alternative was staying with his brother. He wanted to answer, wnated to so badly, but couldn’t. If he did he would promise Sirius he wouldn’t do it. He would compromise every belief he had in the kind of world he wanted to live in just for the chance to stay in his brother’s arms without threat to either of them. It took every last ounce of self control he had not to do it, but he simply bit his lip and pulled himself back into his brother’s arms, hiding his face in his chest and cursing the way his shoulders shook with the strength it took to stay silent.
“I won’t let anything happen to you, if I can,” he promised gruffly, his voice thick against Sirius’ neck, the tears he wouldn’t cry clogging his voice instead. "I know what you asked Alecto but it won’t come to that. I won’t let it.“ It was the best he could give him. And it was blasphemy of the highest order, but Regulus knew without a doubt that if the choice was to watch Sirius be killed, he would betray any belief he ever held to keep the older boy from harm.
Pulling away just enough that he could make sure his eyes met Sirius, he added. "Won’t stop saying it long enough for you to forget,” he promised, his voice soft but his eyes fierce with the promise.
Regulus hadn’t seen Sirius since the party, not at meals or between classes or anything. His brother seemed to have disappeared entirely from the castle and as worried as Regulus had been before - he went to a Gryffindor party for Merlin’s sake - it was nothing compared to what he felt now. More than once he tossed around the idea of going to the Head’s Dorms where Sirius more or less lived, of showing up and staying until his brother was his brother again, but practicality got the better of him and he simply worried from a distance. As he always had.
And then Lily caught up with him after breakfast that morning. It was odd for him to interact with the redhead in anything other than the capacities of a prefect and the Head Girl, it was even more odd considering that in her capacity as Sirius’ friend Regulus felt she left much to be desired. But in this moment, at least, she was exceeding his expectations. She told him she was worried about Sirius, filled him in on the state his brother had been in the last week, and - to his great relief - offered to let him into her common room to see him.
He accompanied her upstairs and she whispered the password to the portrait. He had to force himself to roll his eyes at her precaution but said nothing as he was too anxious to see Sirius. He nodded a thanks to her as she stepped aside to let him slip in.
The sight that greeted him made him feel his worry of the week had been justified. Sirius looked a wreck, Regulus could see it from here. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen it this bad and - considering the house they grew up in - that was saying something. He frowned at the sight, pausing to take it in for only a second before making his presence known. “Siri.” His voice was soft, a tone few but those related to him ever heard, and he crossed the room to where his brother was lying. Lily had told him of his brother’s reticence but he didn’t think twice of it as he joined his brother on the couch, gathering the older boy in his arms.
Sirius was a mess and he knew it. He was a steaming pile of messed up, conflicting emotions that he didn’t know how to control and it was getting the best of him. He tried his best to sort it out, but he didn’t know where to start. It didn’t help that the solution, the answer to his questions was the one thing he was rejecting and denying harder than anything he’d ever fought against in his life. Even if he’d known that - which he didn’t - it likely wouldn’t have gotten him any closer to fixing this.
He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t sleep, he had no mind to eat, he didn’t want to talk. He wanted to be left alone, but that was the last thing anyone seemed to want to give him. He needed the time and the space to sort this out, he always did, but no matter how much time and attention he gave it, he felt he was only talking himself in circles.
When he heard someone enter the common room, he barely thought anything of it until that familiar voice broke through to him. Siri. It was one word, softly spoken, passed over the silence to him in a way he hadn’t heard it in ages. One look at him, and Regulus was worried. One second being in the same room was enough to get him to use that tone. So when his baby crossed the room and gathered Sirius in to his arms, he didn’t fight it. He didn’t lie there and do nothing as he had with Lily, he turned in to him, sliding his arms around his younger brother’s frame.
It was so rare that they were together like this, with Sirius being held instead of doing the holding. They’d done this less than a half dozen times before in their entire lives, and Sirius wasn’t sure it had even been that many times. This was bad. It was a terrible situation and both of them knew it. And Sirius had no idea how to fix it, but with Regulus here he had to try. He had to at least attempt to pull himself together, he saw no other way to go about it. He’d never wanted his brother to see him like this, so fucked up and silent and lifeless. It was wrong and Reggie should never have had to deal with it.
He buried his face against the younger boy, and the raging storm of conflicting thoughts and emotions inside his head quieted. Regulus had always done that for him, and he didn’t fight it the way he had before. “M’sorry baby,” he mumbled. It was the first he’d spoken in days. “M’okay.” He wasn’t, but he had to say it anyway. “It’s ok.”
He knew his brother was in rare form, that hadn’t escaped him in the week it had been since he’d last seen the older boy. But he’d never imagined it was as bad as he saw now, that it was bad enough for Lily to come find him after their last interaction or for Sirius to look so - awful. If Lily hadn’t told him anything, hadn’t said what was wrong, Regulus would have thought his brother was near death. As he crossed the floor and sank onto the couch, he worried over Lily’s warning that Sirius had hardly moved when she’d come to see him that morning but his fears were instantly relieved as Sirius turned into him, wrapping his arms around him. It was a beginning, the first sign that Sirius was not as far gone as Regulus had feared.
At his brother’s words, he shook his head. M’okay, he said as if for a moment Regulus would believe him. He knew why Sirius did it, knew how ardently his brother hated to appear anything less than completely put together and strong in front of him, but this had gone beyond the lie. Regulus had spent too many years humoring the older boy, letting him play the strong one when it wasn’t necessary, reveling in it when it was. But now the farce helped no one and Regulus wouldn’t let it slip by him. "You’re not okay,“ he said gently, his voice soft though it was clear he would broker no argument. "I wouldn’t be here if you were,” he pointed out. Here being the Head’s Common Room, a place he’d never thought to be again considering it’s occupants, even if his brother was counted among him. Sirius would never ask him here, for resptt for Lily, and Regulus would never intrude unless absolutely necessary. That Lily had come and invited him herself - “What happened, Sirius?” He’d heard all the rumors, of course, the renewed fight with Marlene and the mess they had made of it in the Great Hall but this was - extreme to say the least. Or it seemed that way while he didn’t have the details. "Evans tracked me down after breakfast, said she was worried about you. Asked me here herself and after last time - Merlin, Sirius. What the bloody hell happened?“
He knew his brother would fight him on it, that clearly he wasn’t ok and shouldn’t try to pretend he was, but he’d needed to at least attempt it. Still, Regulus’ denial of it and his questions left him reeling, grasping at words, trying to find something to say. But he didn’t know what to. He had no idea where to start or what needed to be explained and what could be left unsaid. He didn’t know how much his brother already knew. Reggie had been there after the first fight, had seen the wreck he’d been. How was he supposed to explain now that it was worse? He likely knew that, but the why of it wouldn’t make sense. He didn’t know what to say about Remus, and didn’t think he could say much of anything at all. Peter was a factor he didn’t know how to explain either. And the Carrows… that was another matter entirely.
He turned to bury his face against his brother’s shoulder, needing that comfort, that very solid reassurance that Regulus was there and not going anywhere before he could even try to attempt to continue. He hadn’t spoken in days before now and he still didn’t want to. But this was Regulus asking and that meant he had to try. “…..Made it worse,” he finally whispered, and he wished his voice wouldn’t shake like that even as subtle as it was. Reggie would hear it. He always did. “Pushed her away…….said things…. Couldn’t….. Had to….. It’s done.” It was the most he could make himself say and even that was almost too much. He curled in on himself, in to Regulus and tried to ignore the stabbing pain in his chest as he thought about it all over again. He missed her. Fuck did he miss her and he wished more than anything she were with him now, but she wouldn’t ever be again and it hurt. He inhaled sharply and let it out again as slowly as he could, and that was all he could do. He didn’t know what else to say.
When Sirius turned to bury his head in his shoulder, Regulus wrapped his arms tighter around the older boy, reminding him with the pressure and the movement that he was very much here for him in every sense of the word. That he wasn’t going anywhere, wouldn’t be until Sirius no longer needed him. He listened without pushing, without trying to clarify or rush his brother in anyway. One of his hands began trailing idly up and down his back, the movement slow and soothing, a steadying rhythm. When he’d pushed out all the words he could manage, Regulus felt him curl up even tighter and his own arms compensated for the increase in pain. He tilted his head, pressing a soft kiss to his brother’s hair.
He didn’t need to ask to know who ‘her’ was, this was about Marlene and what had hapened between them at the party. The rest of it, to anyone else would have made no sense, but Regulus recognized the key phrases. He knew his brother better than nearly anyone, he would have wagered, the what in all of this wasn’t hard to figure out. Regulus was not a man of emotion, though. He was one of reason. Sirius had enough emotion for the both of them and Regulus tried to bring him balance now. "Why did you have to?“ he asked, his voice soft but even, balancing the sheer pain and rawness of Sirius’ words. "I know it’s hard, Siri, but try. Why?” He was asking a lot of the older boy, he knew. But even if he didn’t find the words to answer, Regulus hoped being asked the question would help him begin to work it out in his own mind. Regulus didn’t need the answers, after all. He was here as a comfort, an anchor in whatever stormy sea Sirius was drowning in. Sirius needed the answers for himself, Regulus was simply trying to give him the tools to find them.
Emma had been keeping to herself for the most part this term, considering the heavy atmosphere she felt in the Slytherin common room especially, but it seemed to be prevalent everywhere she went these days. It was easier to keep her head down, to not speak out of turn, to not voice her opinions. She was one of the few who kept such things to herself, it seemed.
She found a great deal of calm in Regulus’ presence especially, and she had taken to seeking him out whenever she could find an excuse. He usually had his nose in a book, and it was so much easier to sit in his silent company than to try to handle everyone and their rising stresses. And today, she had an excuse to see him again, and she didn’t hesitate to take it.
She found him in the library, as she assumed she would, and made her way to him, her footsteps even and soft. She waited for a moment to speak, not wanting to interrupt his work. “Regulus,” she finally said, drawing his attention to her. “If you’ve a moment?” When he didn’t refuse her, only then did she speak again. “Quidditch tryouts are coming up. I’ve not heard of your intentions, and I should hate to lose our team’s seeker. Do you plan to attend?”
Things in the Wizarding world were changing and no where was that more keenly felt than in the Slytherin common room. Things were spoken of there in quiet voices that wouldn’t even be whispered in other parts of the castle, the changing landscape of their world was changing quickest in those dungeons where one student already bore the dark mark and handfuls of others were eager to join him.
Regulus’ own opinions on the matter were heavily split and it had the side effect of sometimes making the air in those rooms suffocating and difficult to bear. He’d always spent a lot of time in the library but over the last few days, that time had increased exponentially. Whether studying or simply reading in a place that was by definition always quiet, he could usually be found between the stacks.
That was where Emma found him now, and of all the possible interruptions, she was one Regulus always welcomed. He and Emma had always been close, they were in the same year and house and had been together on the quidditch team since third year, it was difficult not to be. “Of course,” he said when her soft voice pulled him from his book. “I’ve plenty of moments. Have a seat,” he offered, gesturing to the rest of the empty table for her to join him. “I wouldn’t miss them,” he assured, his grin growing at the mention of quidditch. “Congratulations, by the way. You’re going to make an excellent captain.”
She knew she ought to sit across from him, to keep her distance as was consider proper, but she sat beside him instead. It didn’t strictly break the rules, but her mother would have frowned to see her so close to him. There were still nearly two feet of space between them, but a physical object like the table to separate them would have been preferred. But Emma found she could not distance herself from him when given the chance, and he had been vague in his invitation to the point that she doubted he would mind the space she had chosen.
She offered him one of her rare smiles, not merely the turning of the corners of her mouth, but a real smile, subtle as it still was. He never failed to charm her, and she hoped for her own sake that her enthusiasm for seeing him didn’t show. “That is quite the relief. I have not heard of anyone intending to attend who might best you, and I should hate to think of my team suffering because something else more important had captured your attention.” She couldn’t help but be thrilled to know he would be there, and if she were honest with herself, it had little to do with how excellent of a seeker he was.
Her smile turned in to a grin, though she quickly hid it again. “Thank you,” she said, perhaps a tad too enthusiastically. “I am very much looking forward to it.” She was different on the pitch, less formal and detached, and it was a wonderful catharsis when she was allowed it. Her participation had always been encouraged, and it was a relief to still be allowed it. She studied him for a moment, her eyes tracing his features before she caught herself starting to stare. “I feel I’ve not seen you much since the start of term,” she commented. “One might begin to think we were hardly acquaintances. I have… noticed your absence.” She had missed him, is what she wanted to say, but that was a touch more than she was willing to openly admit. “Have you been well?”
Sirius couldn’t help it. He’d tried, tried to keep it in as best he could, but after leaving the library, he’d exploded. He’d grabbed the first person to look at him wrong, an unfortunate Ravenclaw sixth year, and started what had turned in to an all out brawl between a dozen students. It was a mess of blood and broken bones. Sirius was certain he had a concussion; he was dizzy and he couldn’t think straight, but that was almost a blessing. His hands shook from adrenaline as he tried to light a cigarette, but his fingers were broken and he wasn’t having the easiest time of it. “I owe that Claw and his friends a round of drinks. Didn’t think the book-worms had that in them,” he muttered to himself. It had been a good fight, but he wished it had made him feel better. It hadn’t, and he just wanted to keep fighting. He felt someone approaching him and didn’t bother looking up. “Detention, I wager?”
It was utterly impossible to have missed the fight between Sirius and the McKinnon girl if you had been anywhere even remotely close to the library. As it was, Regulus had been in the Restricted Section doing research for a Potions essay when the shouts reached his ears. He hadn’t even realized who it was at first, not until the whispers joined the shouts and he heard pretty much everything. That being said, it wasn’t surprising to him when, as word of the fight reached any prefects in the area, Sirius’ name was caught up in the details. “It’d be frowned upon if I didn’t give you one,” he drawled, crossing the empty corridor to where his brother had all but collapsed against the wall. Since their talk in the courtyard, Sirius had been heavy on Reg’s mind. Not, of course, that he ever wasn’t. That was what prompted him now, hands slipped into his pockets as he stood above his brother. After that day he had thought - well - Sirius didn’t seem so far away anymore. “But you look as if you’ve taken punishment enough." The polite way of saying ‘you look like shite.’
Sirius looked up and attempted to smile at his brother, but he couldn’t tell if his face was working right or if it was just too numb to function. He chuckled weakly and coughed his way through it, hoping it was just blood in his mouth that made it sound so horrendous and wet. He finally managed to light his cigarette, though he promptly dropped his lighter after he did. He didn’t bother trying to pick it up again; he had others anyway. “Always the better brother,” he mumbled, amused. He’d be lying if he said that Reg hadn’t factored in to his high tension after their encounter, though it was his blow up argument with Marlene that had set him off. He laughed again and leaned his head back against the stone wall, closing his eyes when his vision started sliding in and out of focus. “…..Not doin’ so good, Reggie,” he mumbled, though he didn’t mean just physically.
Regulus had never seen Sirius at quite this level of beaten, physically anyways. But then, he’d never really had the opportunity. He knew his brother picked fights when he was upset, that wasn’t new knowledge. And judging from the level of beat up he was now, Regulus estimated his stress level was perhaps higher than it had ever been. Or nearly. If he had less control of his features, he would have winced at the words. He hated that particular title. “Certainly the one with a better sense of self preservation,” he agreed, though the words were not self complimentary. Self preservation could so easily be construed as weakness, after all. The sound of his laugh had Reg narrowing his eyes. It sounded awful, worse than it should. If his brother hadn’t spoken again, he would hae helped him to the hospital wing and been on his way. But Sirius did. And Regulus couldn’t. He bent his knees, lowering to put himself at eye level with Sirius. He reached out and took his brother’s hand - the first contact since their ill advised hug - and turned it over, taking in the broken bones. "This’ll pinch,“ he warned as he pulled his wand from the pocket of his robes, muttering a charm as he pressed the wand to Sirius’ knuckles. "Tell me,” he prompted, as if it would distract Sirius from the pain of being healed while he reached for the other hand. Which was how he justified his need to know what was going on in his brother’s head.
“Good,” he mumbled. “Expect you to outlive me by a mile, then.” He didn’t think he could hold his head up straight long enough to look at Regulus properly, so he didn’t try. His brother touching his hand hurt more than he wanted to admit, but he craved that touch so desperately that he didn’t make a sound til his bones were snapped forcefully back in to place. He cried out softly in pain, but he felt so physically drained he barely made a sound. He passed his cigarette from one hand to the other, not even bothering to try to smoke it. Just the smell of it was calming to his nerves; it didn’t quite take the edge off, but it smoothed out the jaggedness of the edges. Sirius tried to shake his head, but it didn’t work very well. “Can’t, baby….” he murmured. “I can’t… I shoulda…. I wanted to. I wanted to tell her an’ I didn’t…. s’better like this. Just make it clean, do it now.” He knew he wasn’t making any sense, but words were so hard to string together when it came to this already, let alone with blood pounding in his head. He turned to look at Reggie, and realized for the first time that his right eye was swelling shut. His brother wasn’t in focus at all, and it occurred to him that his sharpest memory was of Regulus several years younger than he was now, but it was the only image his brain was supplying him. “Ran away again, Reggie. An’ I can’t fix it now. Can’t make it right. Made sure of it. M’so good at burnin’ bridges I don’t want to burn.”
His jaw tightened as he heard Sirius cry out in pain as his bones slid back into place. He didn’t like causing pain, especially not to Sirius, but it was this or get him to the hospital wing and he thought his brother would prefer the privacy. Not to mention, Reg was being a bit selfish. By fixing Sirius up himself, he got time with him. Time he’d been denying he wanted. He took care of Sirius’ hands as he spoke saying nothing as he allowed his brother the time he needed to get his thoughts together, to decide how much he even wanted to share. Hearing Sirius call him baby, it never didn’t strike him. Through all his cold detachment, that word could always it’s way to his heart - a heart that went out to Sirius now. He healed Sirius’ other hand, interrupting his brother only long enough to mutter another warning about the pain.
When Sirius turned his head to take Regulus in, the younger boy saw the black eye, the possibly broken nose, the blood everywhere. “Sure you can,” he offered his brother, the state of his face not to mention his head getting the better of Reg’s distaste of talking about his own feelings. He rationalized. Called it a puzzle in need of solving instead of what it was. A desperate desire to help his big brother. “You made us right." He hadn’t realized it was right, but the words rang true when he said them. He and his brother had a lot still to work out but the biggest part was done. Reg wasn’t bitter anymore, didn’t question what he’d done wrong to push his brother away. Now they learned to move forward. "I heard what happened,” he confessed, wand moving to Sirius’ nose. “Steady." Bones moved back into place again. "The fight I mean. Siri, what are you so afraid of?”
Sirius felt like he’d been punched in the chest all over again, hearing his brother say that. Their bridge wasn’t burned and gone, it was fixed. It was fixed and Sirius could have cried. He might have; he couldn’t tell if his vision was so fucked up from tears in his eyes or because of the damage done or both. Both was the most likely. He swallowed hard his throat aching and stiff, but what parts of his expression could still soften under the swelling and caked blood and broken parts did as best as they could manage while he looked at him. “Did I….?” He hadn’t meant to sound so vulnerable as he did, but he couldn’t help it. Regulus was his baby, his brother, his blood. If he’d somehow managed to repair all the damage he’d done, he thought he might be able to fly.
His head snapped unwillingly to the side as his bones were shoved back in to alignment and he cried out again, his hand flying up to clutch at the renewed cartilage and bone. tears of pain definitely in his eyes now. He waited for the smarting to pass, wiping the blood from his face with his sleeve as best he could in the mean time, before he even attempted to tackle an answer to that. “Reggie….” His voice was incredibly soft, and for the first time, it wavered dangerously. “I….. M….Marley and me, we….. we’re not…. I don’t….. It’s over anyway. Should just be left alone….. Better this way, her without me. She deserves everything and I can’t…… I’ve nothing to give, baby, I’ve not…..” He looked down at his bloody hands, trying not to look as upset as he was. “Wish you hadn’t heard that…. Didn’t mean what I said to her. I just….”
It felt to Reg that he was relearning who Sirius was after so many years. Sirius had only left home a bit over a year ago but he’d been distant long before that. Regulus had spent more time watching his brother than truly knowing him, and perhaps that was why he could tell so much from simply watching his brother, the words only came second. When they had talked the other night, Regulus had seen what leaving had done to the older boy. He’d seen the way he cringed when Reg told him how much it hurt to be left behind - as much as Reg was capable of saying. They weren’t good as new, but they were certainly on their way. “You asked to see me,” he said as if that explained everything. And at it’s simplest level. It did. Reg had felt abandoned for so long, he’d just needed to know his brother still needed him.
Once the nose was fixed, the vast majority of the remaining injuries seemed superficial. At least enough that Regulus shifted to sit beside his brother instead of looking for another bone to shove back into place. He sat so close to Sirius that their arms pressed against one another. He mused that if the roles were reversed, Sirius would hold his hand or kiss his hair, but Regulus struggled with even this much. “You were just scared,” Regulus repeated, knowing Sirius was doing all he could manage but still not having enough information to really help. All he knew for certain was that his brother was terrified…and quite possibly in love. “No one’s better off without you, Sirius,” he added softly, the words hard to say as they were far more poignant than he was used to admitting. But he hated hearing Sirius put himself down as he was. Life without Sirius in it, once you’d had him as a part of it, wasn’t something Regulus wished on anyone.
Just that little bit of explanation was enough. You asked to see me. Regulus didn’t need to explain what it meant. Had Regulus ever asked to see him before all of this, he’d have understood that he was still needed, still cared about. And after they’d spoken - or whatever it was that mess of emotions had been - he knew Regulus understood that after he’d begged his brother for a minute of his time. He didn’t need to be told more than that. It made him wish he’d reached out the moment he’d left home, or before that, or something, but at least they had now. And as much as Sirius wanted to run from the mess he’d made, leaving Regulus ever again like that just wasn’t a fucking option, not now that they were finally, finally here.
He shifted when Regulus sat beside him, leaning more heavily against his brother than he normally might have. He felt like he might start spitting blood from between his teeth or lose his breakfast all over the floor. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, but Reg’s presence grounded him at least a little. He didn’t know what to say to you were just scared. He didn’t know how Regulus always knew, but somehow he could read Sirius better than anyone, maybe even her. But it wasn’t until his next words that Sirius couldn’t hold it together anymore. He buried his face in his knees, his bloody but fixed hands gripping at his jeans. “Don’t…..don’t say that,” he whispered. His voice was threatening to crack. “Everyone, Reggie…..everyone’s better off….” He’d heard so many times now how much he was worth but he didn’t feel like he deserved it at all. To his absolute horror, he started to cry and he did his best to hide it. He wouldn’t, not here, not in front of Reg. But he was so hurt, so wounded, so lost and terrified of his own emotions that he didn’t know what else to do. It scared him too much, the words he wouldn’t even give himself, and he pushed those feelings away again. It left him with the emptiness and the pain and the very solid reality that he’d just lost Marlene. Feelings or not, that would have been enough to take him to his knees, but since he lacked the strength to stand, this was all he had left he could do.
Regulus wasn’t dumb to the kind of pain required for Sirius to lose control in front of him. Their whole lives, his big brother had gone above and beyond when it came to trying to protect him. Even when that meant protecting him from his own emotions, opinions, and problems. Regulus didn’t hold that against him, not for a single second, but he often wished his brother had realized that his pain didn’t hurt him. He wanted to be for Sirius what the older boy had been for him in their youth. A safe place. A harbor. Reg used to be able to say anything to Sirius without fear of judgment or abandonment. Not like with their parents. Every word Reg ever said to their parents was carefully plucked and planned and crafted to please them. But with Sirius - before he’d left anyway - Reg just spoke. It meant they often fought but fight as they did, Regulus had never doubted that they were still brothers. He would be that person for Sirius now, his own insecurities aside, because nothing Sirius had done in his life warranted pain like this.
He shook his head at Sirius’ protests, pressing back against his brother leaning heavily on him, the push against one another the closest thing Reg knew to wrapping his arm around him. He pushed against him to remind him he was there, and that as heavy as Sirius leaned, he wouldn’t crumble away. “You’re a stubborn git,” Regulus observed. It was an odd observation to make, for all that Sirius was close to breaking completely in half beside him. The problem was, Regulus wanted to cry for how wrong Sirius was. This was the only way he knew how to tell him. “You never listen, not to anyone. Not to anyone except the two people who don’t know you at all." He was talking about their parents, the only two people Regulus could imagine ever planting this idea in Sirius’ head. He crossed an arm over his body to rest a hand on Sirius’ arm, closer to holding his hand all the time. "Listen to me, not them. What’s the worst that will happen if you stay?" In her life, in the life of whoever it was his brother was trying to push away.
Feeling his brother’s weight pressing back against his shoulder and the reassuring hand on his arm was enough to steady him for a little longer. He wanted to pull himself together, but he knew if he did that, crashing would be so much harder. He couldn’t help it; he laughed though it was strangled and choked between his dry sobs. Regulus had likely never called anyone a git in his life; Sirius doubted his brother was often so undignified. It was something he needed, this momentary lapse of propriety from Regulus. That and that he was here, touching him in any way, making effort that he knew Regulus would put forth for only a precious few, meant the world to him today. He felt like scum, but his brother cared. It was enough for him.
At his question, though, Sirius fell silent again. What’s the worst that could happen? He had so many answers to that and none at the same time. He didn’t want to speak at all, but he couldn’t hide. Not from Reg. The expression on his face was anguished and he tried to look away. “Then I’ll have stayed,” he answered quietly. To many, maybe even James, that answer wouldn’t be an answer at all. But Regulus would understand. He, who had been left first, and had been hurt the most, would understand. Sirius turned in to him, pressing his bloody, ruined face to his brother’s shoulder, his eyes closing. “It shouldn’t scare me so fucking much,” he whispered. His head was throbbing and he thought he might be sick. The pain in his chest was from far more than broken bones and bruised skin and it was making it harder to breathe. “I can’t.” He was trying to say he couldn’t feel for her, not because he was afraid, but because he wasn’t even sure if he was capable. “I don’t…. I’m not even sure I know what it means.”
Having grown up in the same house as Sirius, it would have been impossible for Regulus not to understand where this feeling was coming from. To not know why Sirius thought staying was the poor decision, the option that would hurt himself or whoever he stayed for. Love his parents as he did, they had not done right by their eldest son. Because he was so different than they were, they made it clear he was not good enough, not worth loving or being loved by. Seeing what that had manifested as, the damage it had done, was enough to infuriate Regulus. An accomplishment in and of itself, as Regulus was nearly never at odds with his parents. In this, though, he knew they couldn’t’ have been more wrong.
He needed to choose his words carefully, he knew. Say the wrong thing and he was comparing this moment to the night Sirius had run from home and they were not the same. It had taken him time to come to terms with Sirius’ leaving but the fact of the matter was, he had to go. It was the best for him and Regulus accepted that. It hurt him, but that was worth it for Sirius to survive. To thrive. He didn’t know Marlene, didn’t know the details of his brother’s relationship with her, but he didn’t believe it was the same situation. Sirius ran to a better life when he left home, now he was running away. "What what means?“ he asked, trying to clarify. "What it would mean to stay? Or what it means that you’re afraid of it?”
His head was pounding so much and he was so dizzy it took him a moment to work out what Regulus was saying. “….Both, I guess,” he finally said. He had never stayed. He’d never been able to no matter how hard he’d tried; he’d always left no matter what he was leaving behind or how much he loved whatever it was he abandoned. It was self-preservation initially that drove his instinct, but he didn’t think he could continue to blame it now. He knew he was scared and that was enough reason to run, wasn’t it? But Regulus was right to ask; he wasn’t sure what it was exactly that he was scared of.
He covered Regulus’ hand with his own, pressing his brother’s palm against his arm. Regulus felt warm to him and for once he craved it; he hated heat most times, but he needed this desperately. “…..I told her I didn’t owe her anything,” he finally told him, mumbling the words against Reggie’s shoulder. “Told her she could never make me stay and days ago I begged her not to leave and she said she wouldn’t and it was always supposed to be us cause she just gets it, Reggie, and I don’t know what happened everything just slipped out and I don’t know what to do cause I can’t take it back but I can’t let it go either and it hurts.” He didn’t just mean the words he’d said today. He’d said those two words only Regulus would understand, as ever, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, and now he’d done it twice but he didn’t have the emotions to back it up and it confused and frightened him. “I just don’t want it to hurt anymore.” It had been a matter of a couple of hours now since the fight, and already it felt like it was killing him.
Regulus was nothing if not a logical thinker and as his brother gave him more of the precious details that were stuck into him like knives, Regulus couldn’t help but fit them into the puzzle. His mind slipped into familiar patterns, looking for meanings in words and phrases that Sirius may not even know he had uttered. He had more questions, he always did, but there was one other thing he heard in Sirius’ words, in his story. Even if he hadn’t said he hurt, Regulus would have known. It became more clear with every word and Regulus didn’t have it in him to make it worse with more probing questions. Not to mention, the younger wizard knew his brother. Where Regulus worked from his head, Sirius worked from his heart, and his heart would work itself out much faster if Regulus didn’t bombard it with facts it wasn’t ready to hear.
So when Sirius covered his hand, Regulus turned his own palm up to wrap his fingers around his brother’s. He wouldn’t give him empty promises, wouldn’t tell him the pain would fade or that he would stop hurting anytime soon. Empty promises did nothing, in Regulus’ opinion, and he cared too much for his brother to be anything less than sincere. “You’ll work it out, in time.” This, he knew, was true. He always had before. And as for the physical pain - “You really should go to the hospital wing. I don’t know the spells you need.”
Sirius was relieved when Regulus didn’t say anything else except to remind him that it would get better. He hoped so, because he didn’t know how he would stand living like this forever. He wasn’t sure he could, which meant he had to find another way through this. Regulus said it would just take time, and while that idea was so painful he could hardly breathe, he knew his brother was right somewhere deep down beneath the pounding ache inside his skull. He squeezed Reggie’s hand in return and shook his head, slowly, very very carefully. “Everyone I fought with is there… Take me upstairs. Lily can fix this.” Even that was excruciating. Marlene was the one to patch him up after fights, as imprecise as her healing spells always were. It had been their thing for years and he wanted her so much the ache in his chest only grew, but he said nothing.
He had to lean on Regulus heavily to get back to his feet, and was unsteady as hell when he finally managed it. He was dizzy and disoriented, and he was unable to keep himself from retching where he stood. He knew somewhere in his thick skull that that meant he almost certainly had a concussion, and a bad one, which meant he couldn’t be left alone until he was healed, wasn’t allowed to sleep til then despite how heavy he felt. He didn’t know how he drudged all this up from his brain, but his survival instincts had always been strong. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and leaned on his brother’s shoulder. His steps were stumbling and slow, pain shooting through him every time he moved. It was easier than thinking about it, easier than remember why he was in this pain to begin with. He just needed to get upstairs, despite the struggle it was for Reg to support his weight. All he wanted was to sit back down, not to think or have to do anything else. He could deal with the rest later. Not that he knew how, but at least he had this first. One thing at a time, he told himself. He’d get through this one fucking thing at a time.
