Chapter Text
What Lies on the Other Side?
This might look rough, but it’s home sweet home
Just a little bit of dust and a little bit of mold
But it ain’t so bad on this side of the tracks
- My Year
After Wednesday’s fiasco, Regulus is forced to lie low at school.
The Death Eaters start practically hunting him, upturning their pompous noses the second they get a whiff of lavender and marching off in its direction. Regulus has had to change his signature scent, though it pains him to do so.
He’s also begun to wear… color. Yuck!
But it does the job, keeping Avery and his fellow incels distracted from where Regulus is actually hiding in plain view.
Lily and Dorcas keep finding him at lunch, squealing for joy the second they realize his clothes are no longer varying shades of black. Regulus would be offended if they weren’t so sweet.
He’s pretty sure they view his change in outerwear as him turning over a new leaf, leaving behind sadness and whatnot. He doesn’t have the heart to tell them that the second Avery calls off his manhunt, he’ll be going directly back to his roots.
The days roll by, and Regulus manages to fly under the radar, undetected. He still looks for James’ red hoodie around every corner, but there’s no sign of the zombie boy with a stupidly charming smile and an inability to not flirt in life-threatening situations.
Regulus tells himself it’s fine. They agreed it would be too dangerous for James to come back. That zombies and humans weren’t meant to mix—especially not when a group of literal zombie hunters was lurking about.
Still, it hurts.
Every class feels emptier, even though James was never supposed to be in them in the first place. Regulus keeps glancing at the desk beside him out of habit, and then immediately scolding himself for it. He’s short-tempered with Lily, distracted in lessons, and—for the first time ever—he finds himself peering through the zombie gate as he walks to and from school, coming a little early each day in hopes that he might catch James walking to the basement.
For some unexplainable reason he misses James. And that’s becoming a problem.
It happens the following Tuesday.
Lily somehow ropes Regulus into a conversation about the best Jane Austen novels. He’s too busy defending Pride and Prejudice while Lily argues that Emma somehow has better writing and a more compelling story to notice the approaching figures in black. It’s not his fault, really. He’s never heard someone be so wrong with such conviction.
Dorcas tries to calm down their now-heated discussion, spanning her arms out between them, just as a heavy hand slams down on his shoulder.
Regulus barely has time to look up before he’s being yanked to his feet.
“What the—?” Dorcas starts, pushing herself up from the cafeteria table. She’s cut off by another figure stepping in to block her.
“Avery,” Regulus snaps, wrenching his arm away. “Touch me again and I swear—”
“You swear what?” Avery sneers, too close for comfort. His face is almost pressed into Regulus’ from where his henchman has twisted him around. “Gonna summon your zombie boyfriend to protect you?”
Regulus stiffens. Around them, a few more Death Eaters-in-training circle in, some in uniform—silver serpent pins on their lapels—others just in black.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Regulus says calmly, though his palms are sweating profusely.
Lily stands abruptly, no one there in time to stop the fiery redhead. “Back off.”
Avery doesn’t even look at her. “Awfully protective of your little group, Evans. Makes you wonder where your loyalties really lie.”
“My loyalties?” she snaps. “My loyalties are with basic human decency, which is more than I can say for—”
“Save the speech,” one of Avery’s friends interrupts. “We’re doing a civic service. Sending the traitors to where they belong.”
Before any of them can react, the boys pull something from their robes—rags that smell vaguely like chemicals, sour like bug spray. The scent engulfs Regulus’ nose before he can even think to scream and everything starts to spin.
He wakes up with dirt in his mouth and a pounding headache.
It takes a few seconds for the world to stop swimming—and then he hears Lily’s groggy voice nearby, cursing viciously under her breath.
He pushes himself upright and sees her and Dorcas sprawled nearby, both looking equally disheveled, dirt smeared onto their cheeks and flecked into their hair.
“Tell me we were not just drugged in the cafeteria and no one tried to stop it,” Dorcas groans. “Because I am not in the mood.”
Regulus looks around, heart sinking.
Old, worn brick buildings covered in neon paint and graffiti line the sidewalk they’ve been dropped next to. Across the street looks to be a restaurant whose outdoor menu is not in any language Regulus recognizes. Further in the distance Regulus makes out a flickering sign reading “Welcome to Z-Town!” in jagged red letters.
Zombie Town.
The Death Eaters drugged them and dumped them in Zombie Town.
Talk about protecting their own.
Regulus has to force himself to calm down, remind himself that the scary, brain-eating zombie propaganda is fake. He’s not in any immediate danger—James has already proved that. Still, under stress his brain jumps to the one thing it knows, the one thing that’s been drilled into it for the past ten or so years in Hogsmeade: Zombies are killers.
He takes ten deep breaths and thinks of the kind smiles on James’ face when they walked from class to class. Each memory has his heart rate slowing.
Once he’s regained his bearings and reached an acceptable internal rhythm, Regulus allows himself to observe the until-now mysterious city through the perspective of an interested visitor rather than a frightened kid who’s been dropped in the middle of deadly nowhere.
The second glance shows Regulus that Zombietown is not the scary place humans have made it out to be. Sure it’s a little worn down, but the cracks just give it character. The town actually looks rather homey, string lights hanging between neighboring shops and houses like a map of the stars. On every visible porch rests a potted plant or two, and some front yards even have art installations that seem to be made out of repurposed glass bottles.
It’s cute. But that’s beside the point.
Lily is on her feet now, using her nails to scrape the dried mud from her cheek. “Those fuckers—”
Dorcas rushes to Lily’s side, grabbing her hands where they’re fisted in the air. Regulus can hear her soothing Lily and tries to force himself to do the same. His heart is still under control, but seeing Lily and Dorcas stuck with him is causing all sorts of knots to form in his chest. He can’t act sensibly unless he gets his emotions in check. And this is not the time, nor the place, to be acting without care.
Regulus pushes down the guilty feeling—he can think about it later tonight when he’s home and plagued with insomnia. It’s a temporary fix, but it’ll work until they find a way back.
With a slightly more clear head and less divided attention, Regulus forces out, voice strained, “Why would they send you here too?” looking up at the two girls.
“Because we stood up for you,” Dorcas says plainly. “Apparently that makes us zombie-lovers too.”
Regulus cringes at the insult.
He tries to say something—thank you, maybe, or sorry because it’s his fault they’re all here—but the words won’t come. He just stares at the glowing graffiti and cracked sidewalk beneath his shoes.
“I think they wanted to scare us by trapping us here,” Lily says softly. “Maybe they wanted someone to find us and assume the worst.”
Regulus’s breath catches, suddenly realizing something. “James.”
Dorcas frowns, turning to look at him. “What?”
“I need to find James,” he says, picking himself up and not even bothering to dust off before heading down the street. “He’ll help us. He knows this place. He’s the only one who—”
He doesn’t finish the thought. Because around the corner, standing frozen in place, eyes wide and expression unreadable—is James. They really need to stop meeting like this.
James somehow looks paler than before, gazing at Regulus with wide eyes almost like he’s seen a ghost.
Regulus exhales shakily, heart picking up speed again. “Hi.”
James blinks. “You—what the hell are you doing here?”
“Long story,” Lily mutters from behind, cutting off Regulus before he can say something stupid like ‘Looking for you.’
James’s gaze flicks over the three of them, taking in the disheveled clothes, bruises, and dried mud. His expression darkens.
“Come on,” he says. “Before someone sees you. I’ll explain everything once we’re inside.”
Regulus doesn’t argue. For the first time in days, he lets someone else take care of him.
James’ house is just as inviting as the rest of the town, vaguely smelling of fresh baked goods and spices—which Regulus finds odd, given that he’s fairly sure zombies don’t have tastebuds.
Before they enter the little red house, James opens a conveniently placed mailbox, picking out whatever he deems important and leaving the rest, all the while humming to himself. His hoodie is off for once, giving Regulus a clear view of his messy curls and defined jawline. It could be the warm fairy lights overhead, but Regulus swears there’s a faint glow about him.
Lily catches him blatantly ogling James, shoving a bony elbow lightly into his side. “You can stare later,” she chides.
“I wasn’t—” Regulus starts.
“Oh, please.” She says, not even looking at him while she brushes more mud off her trousers. “You looked ready to drop to your knees the moment he opened that mailbox.”
Dorcas snorts. Regulus feels his face go red.
For the first time in years, he can’t come up with a single retort. Lily’s never been so crude; he wasn’t prepared for it.
Ahead, James glances over his shoulder, holding open the door for them. “You lot coming in, or…?”
Regulus clears his throat, trying to look anywhere but in the direction of James’ searching eyes, lest he find out the reason behind Regulus’ blush.
“We’re coming,” Lily says brightly, stepping past him. “Thanks for saving us.”
James shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Just returning the favour,” he says, nodding toward Regulus.
“Oh, please keep being noble,” Lily mutters as she walks in. “I’m dying to see if he combusts from the tension.”
Regulus glares at her as she disappears inside.
James chuckles low under his breath and gestures for him to enter as well. “You can stare later, by the way,” he says. “Just maybe wait ‘til I’m not covered in Zombietown dust and have had the chance to comb out my hair.”
Regulus nearly chokes, quickly ushering into the safe haven of James’ house.
The inside is somehow even more lovely than out. The living room, or perhaps dying room—Regulus isn’t sure about the proper terminology when it comes to zombie homes—is full of mismatched, plush recliners sat next to equally uncoordinated mini-tables. Somehow, the clashing colors blend together in a harmonizing way, looking more like controlled chaos than the circus it should.
Regulus is also finally close enough to determine the smells from before. It’s some sort of soup with onion, cumin, and—he’s pretty sure—garlic, among other things. The other scent turns out to be cookies, straight from the oven, which are sitting on one of the many colorful mini-tables. It’s almost like they were expecting company.
“Mom! Dad!” James calls out, Regulus only now realizing how they’re probably intruding. “We have visitors!” He has the sudden urge to bolt, before he sees two fellow heads of green hair descend from the staircase opposite the kitchen.
One of them is muttering something like, “What have we said about staying out to find stragglers after curfew? You need to—” From there, the house descends into utter silence, both zombie parents being totally shocked by James’ choice of visitors.
The shorter one, a plump, kind-looking woman walks forward, her husband in tow. When she reaches the human trio, she extends her hand out towards Regulus, almost like she’s checking to see if he’s real. “You sure do know how to pick ‘em,” she mutters wryly to James, stopping just short of running her fingers through Regulus’ probably dirt-covered curls.
Unsurely, Regulus says, “Uh… thanks?”
“Oh don’t mind her,” James’ dad says, lightly pulling his wife back and stepping forward. “The name’s Fleamont, but you can call me Monty. And this here’s my wife, Effie,” he adds, gesturing to the woman now behind him. “Welcome to our home.”
Fleamont—Regulus will not be calling him Monty; he was raised in a mansion, not a barn—splays his hands out invitingly, a bright smile lighting up his face. James and Effie—Regulus wishes he knew her real name—have equally brilliant grins. It’s easy to see how they’re all related.
Regulus tries his best to mirror their kindness, smiling back, but it feels foreign and forced. Luckily, Lily and Dorcas are there to pick up the slack, quickly introducing themselves and thanking Fleamont and Effie for their hospitality. Dimly, Regulus realizes he probably should be doing the same, but he’s too distracted by James, who’s staring at the girls happily, not a hint of uncertainty in his features—like this is just something he does, bringing strange humans home to his parents. Apparently it is.
“And who might you be?” Effie asks. The question goes over Regulus’ head, James quickly answering for him.
“This is Regulus. The guy I told you about. He, um… gave me a tour of Hogwarts.”
Effie’s brows rise. “Oh. You’re Regulus.” She draws out the words like she’s just been handed a juicy bit of gossip.
Fleamont, to his credit, keeps his reaction less theatrical, though he does squint a little at Regulus as if trying to place him in a broader context. Regulus barely catches what he whispers to his wife. “Our boy’s got a type.”
“That’s for sure,” Effie chuckles back.
Regulus bristles, although he is secretly very pleased with what that implies.
James throws his hands up, also having caught what his parents were murmuring about. The exasperated groan he lets out reminds Regulus’ of a distressed toddler, but on James it’s not annoying—it’s cute.
Suddenly, James seems to realize something, face morphing into one of shock, as he rushes out, “Is Padfoot feeling better?”
Regulus doesn’t want to be judgey, especially if that’s some sort of traditional zombie name he doesn’t know about, but who would willingly call themselves or their child “Padfoot.”
Effie and Fleamont are fast to placate James, the three of them muttering indistinctly about “Padfoot’s” condition. Regulus feels bad now.
After a moment, James seems to deflate, though he definitely still looks worried with his brows pinched together. He excuses himself politely, apologizing for having to leave momentarily, and heads up the staircase to visit with his sick mystery man—zombie?
“Oh he’ll be back,” Effie says, already guiding them further into the cozy chaos of the house. She’s too perceptive already, angling the statement right at Regulus like she can tell he’s saddened by James’ temporary departure.
She leads them into their open planned kitchen, which is conveniently connected to the dining room. Regulus, Lily, and Dorcas all take a seat, forming a defensive line along the table across from where Fleamont and Effie sit. It’s probably a little daunting, but their hosts don’t seem to mind.
“So,” Fleamont starts. “What brings you all to Zombietown?”
“Not looking for trouble I hope.” Effie adds, the joke landing flat. Regulus and the girls flinch slightly. It’s too fresh.
Effie notices. “Oh, love, I didn’t mean it like that—”
“No, it’s fine,” he mutters. “Don’t worry. It’s just been… a long day.”
“We figured as much,” Fleamont says, gesturing at their still dirty clothes and hair. “You all look like you’ve been dragged through the mud by your shoelaces.”
“We kind of were,” Dorcas admits, head flopping down. “The Death Eaters drugged us and dumped us past the gates. Said we deserved it for being ‘zombie-lovers.’”
Effie gasps, hand to her mouth. “What?!”
“They pressed some awful smelling rags to our faces,” Lily adds, tone more polite than Dorcas’ previous bluntness. “Next thing we knew, we woke up inside Zombietown covered in dirt and bruises.”
“They were trying to scare him,” Dorcas continues. “Regulus I mean. Make an example out of him for—” She seems to remember James’ earlier cover. “Showing a zombie some kindness at school." She, of course, knows the true story; Regulus gave in and explained what happened when Dorcas caught him jumping behind a corner at the mere sight of black jeans.
James appears in the doorway, hands curled into fists at his sides. “Bloody cowards.”
“Language,” Effie chides automatically, even as she looks like she’s about to take some teens in a fight herself.
James replies with something that sounds like an apology, but it’s in a language Regulus hasn’t heard before—not that he’s heard many; everyone in Hogsmeade just speaks English, and his family gatherings are exclusively in French.
“But yes,” Regulus says finally, voice a little hoarse. “They found out I’d… spoken to James. And were less than pleased. They have a particular… dislike for zombies. Lily and Dorcas just ended up being collateral. It was me they were after.”
Effie sighs, reaching forward to lightly grasp his hands from across the table. “I’m so sorry something that awful happened to you three. But you’re safe now. We’ve got soup, blankets, and whatever else you guys could need for the night. And we’d be happy to personally escort you to the gate in the morning; I’d offer to now, but curfew’s already been enacted.”
Regulus stares at her, unsure of what to say. No one has ever treated him so sweetly without wanting anything in return.
Fleamont claps his hands, already decided. “And we’ve got plenty of beds! You’ll stay here tonight. No arguing.”
“We wouldn’t dream of it,” Lily says quickly. “Your house smells like happiness.”
“It smells like cookies,” Dorcas corrects. “Which is the same thing, honestly.”
Effie stands, brushing her knees off. “James, be a dear and show them where the clean towels are. I’ll reheat the soup and see about finding those biscuits I stashed away last week.”
James touches Regulus’s arm gently. “Come on. I’ll show you to your rooms.”
Regulus follows, head still spinning. He’s not sure if it’s the smell of home cooking or the way James’s hand lingers on his wrist for a second longer than necessary—but something about the house feels more comforting than anything he’s known in years.
Even the spare room Regulus and the girls are brought to feels like it was made for them to stay in, one bed covered in black sheets, and the bunkbed a mix of green and red. Lily calls bottom before Dorcas can protest, rushing to lay her towel down and stake her claim.
Regulus chuckles at their antics, the two of them bickering over sleeping arrangements like an old married couple. It feels natural. Domestic even.
James' arm prods lightly at Regulus’ side, showing him to the bathroom located in the hall. He helps him get set up, pointing out where to find soap, shampoo, conditioner, a toothbrush, toothpaste, and anything else he might want. He hovers in the doorway before leaving, and Regulus knows—he knows—he should push James out so he can shower and wash away the muck of the day, but he can’t bring himself to.
In the end, James hears a cough from upstairs and rushes to grab something from the kitchen. Regulus waits to turn on the faucet, listening to James’ heavy footsteps as he ascends the stairs. And only when he can’t hear James anymore does he turn on the water and step under the cool spray, chiding himself even as his brain keeps conjuring up images of James. James sorting through mail. James standing comfortably in his living room. James with a wide grin on his face. James looking angry in his kitchen’s doorway.
It feels more like a dream than a memory.
After his shower, Regulus heads to the kitchen where Dorcas and Lily are already sitting, drinking some warm soup and talking amicably with Effie.
“Come, join us, sweetheart,” the older woman says warmly. Regulus does, taking the bowl offered to him.
It’s delicious and familiar. Too familiar.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but where did you get this recipe?” The three women turn to look at him, a little confused.
“I… made it? Why? Is it not good because I can add something or—”
Regulus extends his hands, trying to soothe her worry. “No, it’s amazing. It just reminds me of the soup my mom always makes on holidays.”
“Oh that’s…” Effie pauses, face filling with relief. “Lovely.”
Regulus nods, smiling lightly. He hadn’t meant to stress her, but at least it was all sorted now.
“Forgive me,” Effie continues. “It’s just I’ve never made it before. In fact, I didn’t really cook much of anything—at least anything flavorful—before this year. No tastebuds, you know?”
That perks Lily’s interest. “Oh that reminds me. I was wondering, how do you actually cook so well? Because my parents have fully functioning tastebuds and I’m still pretty sure they could never make something this great.”
“You’re too kind,” Effie blushes, trying to wave her off. Dorcas doesn’t let her.
“Seriously Mrs—Effie. This is like astonishingly good.”
Effie looks like she doesn’t quite believe them. “I just sort of followed the description I was given. The man James was talking about earlier—I’m not sure why he insists on calling him Padfoot—just came down with something bad and has been awfully sick. He told me normally this soup is able to cure him, but he’s still not feeling better, so I guess it's not been perfected yet.”
“Hmm,” Regulus thinks. “Have you added Blood Fruit?”
“Blood Fruit?” Effie asks.
Regulus shrugs. “My mom used to say it was the secret ingredient. Gave it its zing.”
Suddenly Effie stands up, heading to her kitchen to search through her cabinets and drawers. “It’s worth a shot.”
Dorcas and Lily continue talking as Regulus watches Effie sort through her entire kitchen, coming up empty handed. He hadn’t really expected her to have any—it’s apparently some sort of rare delicacy, which is why his mom only serves it when the whole family is together.
Effie looks sad returning to the table, and Regulus has the ridiculous urge to promise to bring her some next time he visits. It’s ridiculous because there’s no way he’ll be able to secretly steal his mother’s most prized Blood Fruits and it also implies that he will be coming back to Zombietown.
Still, he decides that if presented with the opportunity, he will try to sneak some to the family, if only to repay their hospitality.
Conversations eventually come to a close, and Dorcas and Lily head to the shower. They take turns while Regulus twists and turns in bed. He’s still filled with adrenaline from the crazy day he had, but after enough time, he manages to drift off into a dreamless sleep, Lily’s light snores covering the room like a cozy blanket.