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The cave had definitely disturbed Regulus; he suspected it had been meant to. That had been even before the potion, or the nearly getting eaten alive by Inferi.
He would have been eaten alive by Inferi if Kreacher hadn’t rescued him and deposited him in the safe house he’d had pre-arranged.
“Safe house” was a bit of a stretch when it was just his family’s home in Blackpool, but it was safe enough for now. Until his Mark burned again and his presence was required by the Dark Lord. His family wouldn’t show up, anyway. They only ever came here in the summer months, and lately not at all.
What he didn’t expect was for Evan Rosier to show up on his second day of recovering from whatever had been in that potion. Regulus was lounging (read: trying not to die by sheer force of will) in the drawing room when the Floo activated.
“Fucking hell, you look like shit.”
His eyes flew open. Evan was standing over him, examining him closely. “What are you doing here?”
Evan shrugged. “You hadn’t returned my owls so I thought I’d check all your family’s properties. This is my third one.”
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” Regulus intoned, though he really was concerned that Evan had been searching for him like this. “But you shouldn’t be here.”
“So much for a teary reunion.”
Regulus rolled his eyes and, with effort, reached up to kiss him. “Better?”
“Much, but you still look like shit.”
Regulus couldn’t trust him. Evan was loyal to the Dark Lord. Regulus couldn’t be sure that his loyalty wouldn’t override his love for Regulus.
And he did love Regulus.
Of that, Regulus was certain.
But what did love matter when it came to ideology?
“Come on,” Evan said, shepherding Regulus toward one of the bedrooms. “Let me take care of you. Are you sick?”
“Bad potion,” he said, which was the truth, but as vague as he could feasibly get away with.
“Oh, that’s easy enough. I’m sure you’ve got a bezoar around here somewhere.”
Regulus wasn’t so sure, but he nodded and let himself be fussed over. His family never fussed over him – he was expected to be proper and self-sufficient at all times – so it always took him unawares when Evan did.
He’d never admit it out loud, of course, but he liked it.
Even if his parents would kill him if they knew the true nature of his relationship with Evan – that Regulus had no desire to settle down with a pretty Pureblood witch and have pretty Pureblood children.
In his haze, though, he thought if he and Evan could have children, that they’d be beautiful.
“Fuck, you really are out of it.”
“Did I say that out loud?”
Evan’s fair skin was flushed. “Yes.”
But he didn’t protest. Maybe that meant something. Regulus tried his best to control his thoughts as Evan found a bedroom and helped him into the bed.
“Stay with me,” Regulus said, gripped by a sudden urgency. He didn’t want to be alone. He couldn’t be alone. He’d spent so much time alone.
Evan kissed his forehead. “Always.”
Then he summoned a bezoar and coaxed it down Regulus’s throat. “Water,” Regulus rasped.
Evan filled a glass using the charm and lifted it gently to Regulus’s lips. Everything about this was gentle.
Evan was the only one who was ever gentle with him.
Regulus took a few sips before he needed to lay his head down. “You’ll be here when I get up?”
“Of course.”
When he woke, it was dark, and Evan was curled up against his side. Regulus let out a breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding.
Evan had stayed.
Oh, he wouldn’t stay once he knew what Regulus had done, and Regulus thought he’d take the Inferi over whatever Bellatrix would do to him, but for the immediate present… he was content.
He leaned in and lightly kissed Evan’s forehead.
Evan stirred.
His blue eyes flew open. “Good morning,” he said. His voice was rough with sleep, and it just made Regulus ache.
“Morning.”
“You’re looking much better.”
“I’m feeling much better.”
“Good,” Evan said softly. The tenderness in his tone made Regulus ache. “Unfortunately, I’ve got plans for the day that I can’t break, but you’ll be here when I get back?”
“Yeah,” Regulus promised.
Evan smiled. “Good.”
Evan didn’t need to get dressed, as he’d slept in his clothes, but he did lean over and kiss Regulus before he left. “I’ll be back later,” he promised.
And then he disapparated.
Regulus knew he didn’t have time. Evan would likely hear the news today. Everyone would know.
He had to plan to leave. He was barely in a fit state to go anywhere, but he had money, stolen from his family’s vault, and he knew he could get to the Continent if he just tried.
He was halfway through packing his bag when Evan came back.
Evan took one look at Regulus and asked, “Where are we going?”
“We’re not going anywhere.”
Evan didn’t say anything at first. Then, after a long pause: “You’re betraying the Dark Lord.”
“I’m not,” Regulus lied.
“Cut the shit, Reg.”
Could Evan kill him? Easily.
Would Evan kill him?
That remained to be seen.
And Regulus rather hoped he’d get to live.
But still, he didn’t see any other way out of this.
“I’m leaving for the Continent.”
“He’ll find you in France.”
Regulus shook his head. “Not in East Germany.”
“Shit, you really do have a death wish.”
“They won’t extradite me. I speak German. And the Dark Lord has no interest in conquering the Eastern Bloc until he’s got all of Western Europe in hand.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Evan said.
“Then kill me. You’ll have to kill me to stop me.”
Evan twirled his wand in his hand. “I don’t think I can do that. Kill you. I mean, I’m sure I could, if the Dark Lord had his wand trained on me, but then I’d have to kill myself, and what a tragedy that would be.”
“So you’re letting me go?” Regulus asked, disbelieving.
“No,” Evan said. “I’m coming with you.”
It was raining when they arrived in East Berlin. It had taken a series of not-quite legal apparations to get there, and Regulus wasn’t sure they hadn’t been followed. Neither was he totally sure how to get to the wizarding quarter of East Berlin, but he knew there must be one, which was a start, wasn’t it?
“Isn’t this something we should have sorted out sooner?” Evan asked, clearly uncomfortable around so many Muggles. It wasn’t like they could kill them; they had to keep a low profile.
And, really, Regulus wasn’t faring much better. If he was doing better at all, it was just because he’d been the one to plan this.
“We’ll find it,” Regulus said.
He was speaking with far more confidence than he felt. The East German Ministry of Magic had no desire to help foreigners, much less Westerners. Regulus had always been uncomfortable around Muggles and now, with his German so out of practise as to be laughable, he felt all the worse.
It took them several hours to find the entrance to the wizarding quarter. Even the wizarding quarter of East Berlin wasn’t exactly warm and welcoming on a night like this, but it was what Regulus deserved, after everything. He didn’t deserve any sort of warm comfort. He never had.
They managed to find a single inn that had open rooms. They booked one room together, and were given a double bed. It seemed East German witches and wizards had rather less backwards ideas about love than Regulus had expected – certainly less backward than those in England, or at least among the Pureblood elite.
Regulus relished in the privacy the room afforded them. For the first time in days, he felt himself start to relax. More so when Evan kissed him.
Regulus pulled him close.
Maybe it would all be all right. They just needed to think their next steps through. And really, Regulus had planned all of this already for one person. How much more difficult could it be for two?
It would be an adjustment, to be sure, but they could get through this together.
Evan coaxed him onto the bed, and Regulus let go of the last of his trepidation. He was safe. He was with Evan. Evan had fled England to be with him, a traitor.
It was all so much more than he deserved.
They managed, with their falsified papers, to be granted a flat together. Evan was the one to speak; he had the better accent, though it wasn’t quite right. The wizard on duty at the housing division didn’t seem too bothered; Regulus had a sneaking suspicion that they weren’t exactly unused to fugitives, as long as they did their duty.
They were required to get jobs; Regulus found an apprenticeship under a potioneer (ironic, in its way), and Evan under a herbologist. It wasn’t what they would have chosen for themselves, but they complemented each other, and they no longer had the luxury of living idly.
Their flat wasn’t much – much smaller than anything either of them were accustomed to, with just three rooms – but it was something. It was theirs. Together.
The Dark Lord wouldn’t find them here, Regulus was sure. Hell, maybe he wouldn’t even be looking. Maybe he’d presume them both dead.
(Regulus brought up the idea of peeling their Dark Marks – and the layers of skin under them – off just to be sure, but Evan had turned green and adamantly refused to do anything like that. He claimed he didn’t want to disfigure himself, and, really, it wasn’t as if Regulus were overly eager, either. He just wanted to be totally free.)
Whatever happened, they were together. Neither could go back now without consequences.
Maybe the Dark Lord really would fall, and they could go home, but until then… it was better to stay safe. Even if that meant actually working and living in a tiny flat.
To think Regulus had planned on doing this alone.
It had been November when they’d left England, and Christmastime rolled around in a matter of mere weeks. It seemed they’d no sooner settled in to their new flat and new jobs than Regulus had found himself stressed over what to buy Evan as a gift.
How did you repay someone who had risked their life and safety to run away with you? You couldn’t. It just wasn’t possible.
Regulus was sure Evan didn’t expect payback.
Evan was here because he loved him, and his loyalty to Regulus outweighed his loyalty to the Cause. A few years ago, Regulus wouldn’t have been able to fathom such a thing.
A few weeks ago, Regulus still had questioned it.
But Evan was here, and Regulus got to wake next to him every morning and fall asleep next to him every night, and it was all too good to be true. Maybe the other shoe would drop someday. Maybe this was all an elaborate trap. Regulus didn’t know. He didn’t particularly want to know.
He just wanted to spoil Evan while he could. He needed a gift.
Unfortunately, even the wizarding quarter of East Berlin seemed to be adamantly against capitalism – this was, Regulus thought, the true sacrifice Evan was making. He delighted in the material, and now… well, even that which existed was not in excess. Regulus himself had never been accustomed to luxury without strings attached – oh, he’d never wanted for anything material, but every luxury had come with conditions.
It was certainly an easier adjustment for him than it was for Evan.
But Evan deserved a good gift; Regulus certainly couldn’t pick up something small at the Christmas market. He needed something better than that.
At a secondhand shop, he found the perfect gift. Or, at least, as perfect a gift as he could reasonably find in East Berlin. It was a book, which normally wouldn’t have been Evan’s thing at all, but this book contained several ancient and dangerous Germanic spells that Regulus knew Evan would love to try.
It was expensive, and their money was running low (they hadn’t yet been paid; the transition to actual labour was another that Evan hadn’t taken well), but Regulus bought it anyway.
He was sure Evan would love it.
Evan loved him, and that was the strangest part about all of this.