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“I cannot explain right now, but I need you to trust me, Barty.”
Regulus was assembling the books he had borrowed from Mr Borgin and carefully placed them in the bag they had arrived in.
“Trust you?”
“Yes. Trust me.”
“Trust you?!” Barty’s voice had gone up an octave. It seemed to be doing that a lot lately.
Regulus did not have the time nor the patience to deal with Barty’s breakdown. He had a Dark Lord to rob.
“Barty, I do not think–“he stopped himself. He could not tell Barty what he intended to do, but Barty was smart. He figured out for himself that they were pulling in opposite directions.
“I can’t let you do that.”
Regulus let his head fall back as a wry laugh made its way through throat. He stopped abruptly as he examined his friend who was looking more manic by the second. Regulus supposed he was not looking any better. He did not have to look in the mirror to know that his eyes had the look of a haunted man nor that the circles under his eyes had grown darker every day from lack of sleep; that his dry lips were pale as death; that his usually youthful face was gaunt.
His mother had made enough snide comments the past few months about his appearance that the mirrors he had smashed in anger, and then not replaced, would be quite useless. She did not have to say the one thing they both thought each time she derided his lack of proper presentation after this or that guest had paid them a visit; he was not Sirius. He would never be Sirius.
“You cannot choose to ‘let me’ do anything.” His voice was barely more than a whisper, “I’m going. The Dark Lord will not find me, I can assure you.”
Barty stepped closer, “Regulus. See what you're doing. You’re deserting. The one thing you and I weren’t going to do. The one thing we mocked others for. We were going to make things better, yeah?”
Regulus felt his eyes mist and shook his head as if to shake the feelings welling up in him. He had mocked those who had deserted. Had been convinced that they deserved the excruciatingly painful manner in which they died for leaving a worthy cause such as this. They were right all along. This life was not worth a knut.
He had not noticed Barty step closer to him and was surprised when he felt his hands grab the sides of his face and kiss him. Regulus was too stunned to move at first, but then answered the kiss with equal fervor. He did not know how long it took. Maybe a few seconds, maybe an eternity, but when he pushed himself away, he did not dare look upon Barty’s face.
He turned his back on Barty though it pained him to do so and began to walk.
“Regulus, please. I can’t… I can’t lose you.”
At this, Regulus stopped and closed his eyes. He did not have to imagine the hopeful look in Barty’s eyes at this moment. He could not turn around to tell him his last goodbye. He was too cowardly to do so. He continued walking.
“Goodbye, Barty”