Chapter Text
Regulus Black stood in a forgotten alcove in the Muggle side of King’s Cross, trying not to look at the trains departing around him. If he looked, he would be tempted to just—get on one and leave everything behind. Escape from the fate that awaited him at Grimmauld Place.
Pandora Trelawney stood in front of him, clutching his grandmother’s ring and looking uncertain.
He had to say goodbye. He had to leave. For her sake, he had to go. Walburga would be waiting, and she would not accept any excuse for tardiness.
“The ring will keep you safe,” Regulus told her.
“And what’s going to keep you safe?” she asked.
Regulus opened his mouth and the truth spilled out.
“They want me to join them.”
Pandora’s face went white. Instead of backing away or fleeing in horror, she threw her arms around him.
Regulus took in one shuddering breath and then another, but the words kept coming. “I can't do it, I have to do it, but—”
“No, Reg, you don’t,” Pandora insisted. “You really don't.”
His eyes stung. The pressure on his chest increased until it crushed his lungs and made it impossible to take a full breath. An ugly noise tore out of his throat, halfway between a moan and a sob. “They’re going to … they're going to hurt people. You. Coz. Emma. If I don’t go.”
Pandora should be running away. She should be scared. Instead, she guided him back onto the bench and angled herself so that she was between him and the rest of the world.
He needed to tell her everything. Warn her about just how capable his family and the other Slytherins were when it came to hurting people. Instead he just started to sob in big, uncontrolled gasps.
Pandora held him through it. “I'm not letting you sacrifice yourself just because you think it’s going to help,” she whispered fiercely. “We’re going to figure this out. We’re going to get you out of this. Alright?”
He knew he should regret telling her the truth. But even as he struggled to breathe through the tears, it felt as if a massive, crushing weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The contradiction made his head swim so badly he had to put his head down between his knees.
Pandora rubbed his back in warm, gentle circles. She might have been saying something, but the words were lost in the overwhelming torrent of panic and confusion buffeting him from all sides.
Finally, a voice cut through the haze. “Pandora?”
Regulus jerked his head up so fast the world spun wildly. An older man stood before them. He was stout and sturdy, a little plump around the midsection but still thick with muscle. His gray hair was buzzed short, and his expression was tight and concerned.
Pandora kept her arm around Regulus. “This is my friend Regulus Black. Reg, this is my dad, Dónall.”
Regulus wiped his face with his sleeve. The hot flush of embarrassment almost felt worse than the vertigo. “Sorry, I'm …”
“That's perfectly alright.” Dónall dug in his pocket and retrieved a tissue. It took Regulus a few moments to realize he was offering it to him. Regulus took it with shaking hands and wiped his face.
Dónall wasn’t done surprising him. Dónall dug around his bag and retrieved a strange plastic bottle filled with clear liquid. Pandora cracked the small, circular lid off and passed the bottle to Regulus. “I forgot to tell you about disposable water bottles,” she said with a small, wry smile.
The water was room-temperature but it was a blessed relief.
As Regulus drank, Pandora spoke. “Dad, I don't know how much you know about … the conflict going on in Magical Britain?”
Dónall's expression turned grim. “I know enough.” His gaze flicked to Regulus. “Are you in danger?”
Regulus swallowed. “I'm not in danger, it's everyone else that's—”
“You most certainly are in danger,” Pandora insisted. “Especially if you go back home with that cunt mother of yours—”
“Language,” Dónall chided.
“She deserves that and more, dad. Trust me. She's trying to coerce Reg into joining the—well, the magical equivalent of the KKK.”
Regulus had no idea what Pandora was talking about, but it must have meant something to Dónall. He inhaled sharply. “Well that won't do.” He glanced around the terminal. “Right. Is there anyone from your family here that we need to avoid?”
They had a decent vantage point from their little alcove. Regulus forced himself to scan the crowd.
He spotted a familiar figure in the crowd. His heart stopped.
She shouldn't be there. She never showed up at King’s Cross. She shouldn’t be there.
His mother stood in the crowd, gaze fixed on Platform 9 ¾. Soon, she’d realize Regulus had already left the Platform.
Pandora followed his gaze. “That’s her?”
If Walburga turned around and laid eyes on Pandora—on Dónall—they'd never leave King’s Cross alive. She’d find a way. She’d make sure nothing stood between her and her son.
Regulus lurched to his feet. “I need to go.”
Dónall stepped forward, intercepting him and further blocking Regulus from Walburga’s view. “No. That’s not happening. Come on, we’re getting you out of here.”
Dónall shrugged out of his sturdy utility jacket and passed it over to Regulus. “Put this on.” His tone brokered no argument. Regulus forced his shaky arms through the sleeves of the jacket. He swam inside it.
Pandora dug a red woolen cap out of her bag and jammed it over Regulus’s head. She scooped up his luggage. Dónall took Regulus’s arm in a firm but kind grip and then they were off, weaving through the crowd at a fast clip.
Regulus didn’t look back.
They emerged into the cold December afternoon. The sounds of London—traffic, raised voices, clanging construction—buffeted him like a physical blow. Regulus’s knees buckled. Without hesitation, Dónall shifted his grip to keep Regulus steady. Dazed, he let Dónall guide him down the street.
“Come on, I parked in the car park around the corner,” Dónall said. “Dory, is anyone following us?”
Pandora glanced behind them. “Nope.”
Walburga wouldn't deign to follow them on foot. They weren't free. Not yet. “She’ll Apparate,” Regulus croaked.
“She was still staring at 9 ¾ when we left,” Pandora reassured him. “She didn't see where we were going. Can't Apparate if she doesn’t know where you went.”
Dónall led them to a powder blue vehicle and unlocked the doors with a speed that might, in fact, have been magical. Pandora threw the back door open and guided Regulus inside. The moment she slammed the door behind them, Dónall started the car.
They tore out of the car park so quickly Regulus slid across the seat and smashed into Pandora.
The car slammed into something solid and rose alarmingly only to thud back onto the road. “Dad!" Pandora shrieked. "Did you seriously just jump the kerb—”
“Don’t tell your mother.”
This was far more disorienting than riding in a carriage, and far worse than travelling on the Express. Regulus tried not to watch as buildings sped by in an overwhelming blur, but he forced himself to look over his shoulder. King's Cross grew smaller and smaller by the moment.
He was free. He'd done it. He'd left.
Dónall took a sharp left turn and Regulus's stomach rebelled. “I’m going to be sick.”
“Should be a plastic bag in the back!” Dónall said, sounding rather cheerful as he swerved into another lane of traffic. A horn blared. Regulus put his head back down between his knees, partially to stave off the nausea and partially to block out the view of Dónall weaving through downtown London traffic like he had a death wish.
“The first time I Apparated, I vomited all over Themis’s shoes,” Pandora said. “Travel via automobile really isn’t that terrible in comparison. Well, when the person driving doesn't break any traffic laws.”
“Very reassuring,” Regulus groaned. “That makes me feel so much better.”
Dónall laughed, and it sounded so similar to Pandora’s teakettle wheeze it automatically eased some of the pressure in Regulus’s chest.
Thankfully, the car ride got smoother the further they drove. Dónall put on the radio, and the background noise along with the thrum of the car was surprisingly soothing. Regulus’s panic slowly abated. Pandora kept rubbing his shoulder, slow and repetitive. It felt like a lifeline.
He sat up and leaned back against the seat. The last dregs of his terror ebbed away, leaving him exhausted and hazy. “I can't believe that actually happened,” Regulus murmured. It felt like if he closed his eyes he’d still be at King’s Cross.
“I'm glad it did,” Pandora said quietly. She looked rather shaken. “Dad, do you have the cocoa up front?”
Dónall passed two thermoses back without taking his eyes off the road. Pandora pressed one into Regulus’s unresisting hands. It took him a few tries to unscrew the lid.
He hadn’t been eating much of anything, recently. It had all tasted like ash and paste in his mouth. He was surprised to realize he actually had a bit of an appetite.
Regulus took a careful sip of the hot cocoa. It was sweet, rich, and just the right temperature. It warmed him up from the inside out.
The warmth of the car and the cocoa and Pandora pressed against him lulled Regulus into a drowsy, comfortable peace. Pandora retrieved a thick knitted blanket from under the seat, and tucked it around their legs. It smelled musty but in a nice way.
When he finished the thermos, Pandora offered him hers, but Regulus shook his head. He was too drowsy to keep a thermos upright at this point. Regulus was still wearing Dónall’s coat and Pandora's ridiculous hat, but he was too tired to take them off. Hopefully Dónall wouldn't mind.
Pandora guided his head down onto her shoulder. Her shoulder should have felt bony and awkward, but mostly it just felt comforting. Her hair tickled his nose. Regulus’s eyes fluttered shut.
“I'm so glad you told me,” Pandora murmured. He felt the vibrations from her voice under his cheek. “I was really worried, Reg.”
“M’ sorry.”
“Don't be,” she whispered, voice so quiet he barely heard her. “I'm just glad you’re here.”