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Truth or dare had never been Regulus’ go to way to pass the time. He didn’t like the uncertainty of it. The fact that, either way it went, he’d end up making a fool of himself. Whether it be revealing a secret or doing whatever idiotic task the other people came up with, the game was always rather unappealing to him.
Which was why it was such an unfamiliar feeling for him to be sitting in the empty Slytherin common room with his friends, a bottle of Veritaserum lying on the table next to a half-drunk bottle of firewhisky.
Regulus was aware that Muggles (the game’s inventors), as well as other wizards, didn’t typically use Veritaserum, but he was playing with Barty, who had a penchant for making things as interesting for himself as possible.
Regulus couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was that made him say yes to playing. The five of them had been lounging about for hours at that point, the Common Room empty save for them, as few other Slytherins had decided to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays. Those who had were either holed up in their rooms or somebody else’s. Sometime around 4 p.m. Barty had procured a couple of bottles of firewhisky, accompanied by the excuse that it was the holidays and they deserved to celebrate. So, instead of condemning his self-destructive behaviours as they might usually have done, Regulus, Evan, Pandora, and Dorcas decided to join him. What was a winter holiday without some day drinking, right?
It was much later then, and they’d gone through enough firewhisky to lose more than a few inhibitions, but no more than two bottles. Evan and Dorcas were at least responsible enough to keep the others in check.
All this to say, Regulus playing truth or dare was a very, very rare occasion that he knew his friends would be determined not to waste. So when Dorcas asked him “truth or dare, Regulus?”, he knew he’d have to play his cards right.
“Truth,” he said after a moment of deliberation.
The wrong decision. He knew the moment the word had finished forming in his mouth.
“Our first truth of the night!” Evan laughed.
“You know the rules, then,” said Barty with a small smirk. He reached down to the table and before passing the bottle of Veritaserum to Regulus he laid out the rules. “It’s a very precise procedure, alright? Only have a small sip. We don’t want you spilling your guts for the next hour, just the next minute or so.”
As Regulus nodded, Barty handed him the bottle and Regulus felt their fingers brush ever so slightly.
Taking even a small sip of the stuff made it feel like every single wall Regulus had ever built inside of himself had begun to crumble. No secret was safe.
He thought for a moment of all possible questions Dorcas might ask. Every one was worse than the last. Regulus was beginning to regret his choice of truth. What actually came out of her mouth was something so out of the blue to Regulus that he actually had not considered it once.
“Is it true that you used to have a crush on Emmeline Vance?” Dorcas asked, smiling mischievously.
Regulus cringed. The thought of him liking Emmeline was ludicrous to him, but the secrets he had tied to that meticulously constructed rumour were suddenly glaring. A light haze of dread obscured his vision and suddenly, all he could see was Barty across the table from him, looking right into his eyes, cocking his head. Could he see what Regulus was thinking? He might find out in a moment anyway.
Regulus could understand why this was Dorcas’ chosen question. The year before, word had swept Hogwarts that the Slytherin prince Regulus Black had his eye on one special Ravenclaw. Emmeline and Regulus got along fine before the rumour had started, so it wasn’t completely outlandish or difficult for the general Hogwarts population to believe that he might fancy her. Unfortunately, Dorcas was not a member of the general Hogwarts population.
She was perplexed by this rumour, given that Regulus had literally never mentioned Emmeline outside of the context of a class project in his entire life. He had tried to convince her that he just never brought it up because that’s not the kind of thing he tells anyone about, not even his friends (truth), and he had no idea how the rumour had even begun (lie).
Shaking his head a little, perhaps to clear his mind of the thoughts the Veritaserum combined with Barty’s gaze had brought to the forefront of his mind, Regulus tried to focus on the question in all its simplicity.
“No,” he answered honestly (as if he had any choice). No need to make it any more complicated than that.
“Boo,” responded Dorcas. “You’re so boring, Reg. You never have crushes on anyone .”
Well.
“No, that’s not true, Dorcas. Regulus dated Emma Vanity that same year, remember?” Barty chipped in.
“Yeah, but we all know he didn’t like her. He said as much when he was asking us how to break up with her.”
“Whatever, Cas. Let’s move on,” Regulus urged.
“No, no,” Evan interrupted. “Have you ever had a crush on anyone at Hogwarts?”
Being caught off guard, the “yes” that came out of Regulus’ mouth was instantaneous. He groaned. “You’re taking advantage of my fragile state. My turn is over.”
“Please, Regulus, just say who she is. I swear, I’ll leave you alone forever after that. Please.” Evan begged. He was too curious for his own good most of the time.
“Absolutely not ever happening, Evan.”
Evan said something to him after that and Pandora started bickering with him and Dorcas, but Regulus could barely hear them. He was much too wrapped up in looking at Barty who was looking right back at him. Something about Barty’s hooded eyes and the dark circles that bordered them, the way he sat in his chair, the way his hair looked after a long day of doing nothing at all. He couldn’t tell if it was the firewhisky or something else but he felt so charged in that moment, like he might stand right up and walk over to him and—
“—right, Barty?”
Barty broke the eye contact as he turned to Dorcas and started vehemently disagreeing with whatever she’d just said for no apparent reason.
Exhaling deeply, Regulus closed his eyes and let his head fall back. What was going on with him?
He was always wary of placing too much meaning into things, but that didn’t stop him from doing just that at any moment he possibly could. It was a nasty habit and it made him feel disgustingly self important, but something about doing what he knew would make him hate himself had always been a bit cathartic.
Maybe that was why he decided to say yes to playing this stupid game in the first place. Maybe that was why he chose truth and why he didn’t break eye contact after almost 20 whole seconds of it with Barty.
He heard Sirius’ voice in his head, telling him he was always making something out of nothing, which was still ironic, coming from the most dramatic person on the planet, as far as Regulus was concerned.
Sirius. Maybe that was why he’d said yes to truth or dare.
His brother had cornered Regulus in an empty classroom the day before to talk to him.
“Regulus!”
“ Sirius? ”
Sirius had followed him into the Charms classroom, which was completely bereft of students given that there were no classes that day. Regulus was only there because he’d left his scarf there the last time he’d had class. How Sirius knew where to find him was beyond him.
“Are you coming home for Chanukah?”
“Wh- to the Potters’?” Regulus was caught off guard by the question, having to reorient himself as soon as it was asked. Home, now, meant something completely different.
“Yeah. Effie and Monty said you were more than welcome. You’d know if you ever opened their letters.” He added that last part under his breath, but Regulus heard all the same.
He did open their letters. Every time an owl from the Potters arrived addressed Regulus Black , he’d take it, put it in his rucksack, and send the owl home. Later, much later, usually that night once Barty and Evan had gone to sleep, he would spell his drapes shut and read them. They were typically written by Euphemia with a few references to things Fleamont had said or had asked her to include, but recently, as Regulus had finally begun responding to their letters, Fleamont had begun sending some as well.
Since leaving his parents’ house and moving into the Potters’, Euphemia and Fleamont had been more than welcoming to Sirius and Regulus. They’d each gotten their own rooms in the same hall as James and were treated with such hospitality and warmth Regulus felt he might get a sunburn if he stayed around them for too long.
The letters had started coming the first week of term, the first one from Euphemia reading simply at the end “ Please don’t feel obligated to respond. If you feel very strongly, send us a note in return and we won’t continue to write. But if it’s all the same to you, Monty and I would like to send you a letter once a week, just as we do for Sirius and James. ” It had made Regulus sick for days thinking about it, but he hadn’t sent anything in return and allowed the letters to continue coming in.
It disconcerted him how easily Euphemia had read him. For all his life, Regulus had prided himself on being a private person. It felt like he was winning something every time someone didn’t know something about him and he liked living that way very much. It was safe and left close to no room for getting hurt. Unfortunately, it seemed he liked it even more when those around him knew who he was.
That was the main reason his departure from Grimmauld Place still made him queasy to think about. Sirius had fought with their mother one night and she had called him a terrible influence for Regulus. He’d shot back and said that he was a “better influence by lightyears than you or anyone in this godforsaken family ever has or will be, Mum. You’re insane. Completely delusional.” Walburga, lost in her rage, raided Regulus’ room after punishing Sirius. She bound Regulus using a second nature Incarcerous and found the journal he kept next to his bed. It was written entirely in French, a language his father had taught him. Walburga didn’t know much French—only the family mottos—which was the main reason Regulus kept it in the language. She told Orion to read it aloud in English in front of an immobile Regulus and Sirius, who she’d dragged in and bound as well.
The first few pages alone would have been enough to keep Regulus grounded (or the Walburga and Orion equivalent of a grounding) for a year. As they made it to the middle of the book, they’d discovered perhaps Regulus’ best kept secret: he was a flaming homosexual. And, perhaps worse than that, was in love with the son of a blood traitor.
That night, Sirius and Regulus had fled.
Luckily for him, his parents hadn’t disclosed their reasoning for disowning them. Apparently, having two disowned heirs for no apparent reason was better than it coming out that one of them was gay and the other a Muggle sympathiser.
The mutual correspondence between him and the Potters had begun only recently, within the past month. Euphemia had mentioned offhandedly in a letter that her husband was reading The Trial by Franz Kafka, a novel with which Regulus had also become recently enamoured. He couldn’t stop himself from sending his first letter back, in part gushing about Kafka and in part bombarding Fleamont with questions about what he thought.
He did read in Euphemia’s second to last letter that stated that he would be appreciated at their house for the holidays but not expected to come. He ignored it in his response, a grace that she blessedly reciprocated. So when Sirius made the comment about him not even reading the Potters’ letters, Regulus’ annoyance deepened substantially.
Regulus rolled his eyes at his brother but before he could open his mouth to respond, Sirius was pouncing on him like a lynx. “Why can’t you be grateful for once, hm? They let us into their house when we had no place else to go and you don’t even have the decency to spend the holidays with them.”
“ You dragged me there. I-” Regulus groaned and rubbed his eyes. Only with Sirius did he ever lose his composure. “Can we not do this right now, Sirius? You’re going, I’m not. Send them my apologies, alright?”
“I dragged you because they would’ve killed you, Regulus! I don’t know what you don’t und-”
“ Please , Sirius. Let’s not do this right now.” He was dangerously close to begging, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. There was no reason for him to be so fed up with Sirius, but he was. They’d had that same argument countless times over the summer and once or twice since the school year had begun. They’d reached the same conclusion every time and this time would surely be no different. All he wanted was to go back to his room and read. And preferably do that same exact thing all throughout break.
Something in his tone of voice must have gotten through to Sirius because he just shook his head. “Nothing bad will come out of you coming home, you know that right? You love making problems out of nothing.” As Regulus opened his mouth to rebut, Sirius held up his hand. “No, no, I’m done. Chag sameach, Regulus.”
Sirius walked out of the Charms classroom and Regulus stayed for a minute. The classroom was quiet and a breath of dark, dank air wafted from the mounds of old parchment surrounding Flitwick’s desk. All he could hear was the pounding of his pulse in his ears. He stood there, motionless. If he hadn’t been so lost in his own absence of thought, he might’ve noticed the light wetness of his eyes.
Groaning and letting his hands fall away from his face, Regulus was brought back to the present moment when Dorcas beside him started laughing with her full body at something Pandora had said.
“All right, all right. As long as we can agree Professor Flitwick is NOT the least shaggable professor.” she said, wiping tears of laughter away from her eyes. “Regulus, it’s your turn to ask.”
“Evan, truth or dare?”
“Dare, of course. Bring it on, Reg.”
Evan’s bravado was nowhere to be found once he’d completed sending his letter to his and Pandora’s parents telling them that he’d met a charming Veela and decided to drop out of school to move to Belgium with her.
The game went on smoothly enough for Regulus after that, though he couldn’t say the same for any of his friends. The worst of his dares consisted of pretending to be in a relationship with Dorcas for the rest of the night, whilst the mildest of anyone else’s included knocking on Lucinda Talkalot‘s door and telling her she’d been cut from the Quidditch whilst pretending to be Slughorn.
Regulus, of course, stayed far, far away from truth for the rest of the night.
That was, until the very end.
As the late night turned into the small hours of morning, lots of energy was lost and no one cared enough anymore to choose dare. As everyone picked truth, the questions had become gradually more serious.
Evan asked Dorcas if she was scared to graduate next year. Dorcas asked Pandora if she ever wished she wasn’t a twin. Pandora asked Barty why he hated his father. By the time it reached Regulus, he knew whatever Barty asked him was going to top everything the rest of them had just been asked.
He considered picking dare, remaining safe and choosing the easy way out. No harm if all of his walls remained up, right? But as soon as he looked at Barty and heard him ask “truth or dare, Regulus?”, he knew there was no option other than truth.
Before sipping the Veritaserum for the second time, Regulus was sure he’d be able to control himself better this time. After sipping it, he couldn’t help but wonder: what if I didn’t?
“Regulus,” Barty began. As if that was a full sentence. Regulus knew that Barty already knew, had known exactly what he was going to ask him for a while now, but he was always performing, at least a little bit. “Why were you disowned?”
And there it was.
The room felt a little colder than it had a moment ago. He felt Dorcas tense beside him.
Why were you disowned, Regulus?
He could think of an array of reasons: queer, disappointment, insecure, gay, meek, homosexual.
None of them knew. They were going to, but none of them knew at that moment.
Regulus couldn’t tell if he felt relieved or even worse. On one hand, he would finally have to stop hiding, at least around his friends. Sirius knew, James knew, Fleamont and Euphemia knew. But no one he saw on a daily basis knew and it was honestly beginning to exhaust him.
On the other hand, they could all react very negatively. He could be shunned from the group and the entire school could find out as soon as break was over. If the school found out then so would the wizarding world. Regulus wouldn’t, but he knew that Sirius would find amusement in the fact that something their mother worked so hard to keep hidden would come out so spectacularly.
Deep down, though, he knew. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide it from his friends forever. He knew that no matter how long he kept the pretence of him being straight going, it would always feel like drowning. Constantly, like his lungs were filling up with water and he couldn’t speak or breathe or do anything except flail and make it worse for himself.
Why were you disowned, Regulus?
He took a deep breath. He really didn’t have much of a choice in the matter, but could that be for the better?
“My mother found my journal. She read it and found out that I’m a homosexual.”
Somehow, the already deafening silence worsened for a moment. He wondered, briefly, if it would have been better after all to stay underwater.
Then suddenly, he was being embraced by someone who smelled greatly of coconut and orchid.
Dorcas was hugging him over the shoulders and her face was buried in his neck. It took a moment for him to calibrate, but as soon as he did, he returned the gesture. After taking a moment to steel himself, he looked up at his friends and didn’t find the pitchforks and torches he’d half expected. No, instead he found Pandora smiling at him and Evan nodding, his eyes crinkled at the edges. Barty was harder to read, his mouth slightly agape and expression pensive, but he wasn’t given the time to think about that, as Dorcas pulled away all of a sudden.
“Regulus, I’m really… yeah, Reg, that’s really great. Not that you were disowned, but, um… I’m just proud of you, is all.”
“Dorcas Meadowes at a loss for words. Never thought this day would come,” he quipped, but his throat choked him towards the end, voice thick with emotion that he didn’t even try to suppress. She jokingly punched his arm but it lacked any force.
“I am proud of you. I mean it.” She considered something for a brief second, and for a rare moment, he could see on her face exactly what she was thinking. “I uh… let’s talk about this more tomorrow, yeah?”
Regulus nodded and she hugged him again. He wondered, vaguely, about what they would be talking, but he thought had a pretty good idea.
The room was silent for yet another moment, but this time, it didn’t feel suffocating or anticipatory.
Barty still hadn’t had any reaction by the time Evan got up from his chair and stretched.
“I’m proud of you and all of that, mate. Doesn’t matter much to me which way you swing,” Evan said, which was about the best reaction Regulus could’ve asked for from him. “I think we’ve all learned enough about each other for the night,” he said. “I’m beat.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Pandora yawned, following suit and getting up. She looked over to Regulus in the way that only she could, her gaze at once both intense and soft. “That’s really good, Regulus. I’m happy that you told us.”
He nodded at her, still in a bit of a daze from such a positive response from all of them. He was beginning to wonder why he was even scared to tell them in the first place.
“C’mon Dora, we can go to my dorm. Neither of my roommates stayed for the holiday,” Dorcas offered.
“Alright,” Pandora conceded easily.
“Reg, Barty, you comin’ with me?” Evan asked, looking between the pair.
“You head up, we’ll be there in a minute,” Barty answered for him, and the three of their friends bid them goodnight as they went up the stairs. Before Evan got up the stairs, Barty ran up and gave him the firewhisky on the table that Evan had intentionally left so he wouldn’t have to clean it up. When he sat back down, Barty sat on the couch, one cushion away from Regulus.
Silence. Again. Regulus was tired of it.
“Ça va?” Regulus asked, thankful his nerves weren’t audible. Barty didn’t know French, but in their third year he’d decided that he wanted to. The phase lasted the whole year—a shockingly long time for one of Barty’s many phases—but he didn’t learn very much. Regulus liked speaking in French to him sometimes. It made him feel better.
“You’re gay?” Barty asked, quieter than he’d been all night, quiet in the way that Regulus always liked to imagine that he was the only one who got to see. Once again, Regulus was nervous.
Barty not accepting him and his other friends not accepting him were two completely different things. The glaringly obvious reason for that being that Regulus had been helplessly in love with Barty since second year, since he promised to Regulus that he would always be his best friend.
You see, Barty had been partnered with Amelia Bones in potions for the day and Regulus had gotten so sick with jealousy that he didn’t speak to Barty for all of dinner that night. When Barty had finally pestered him enough to get him to snap “Why don’t you go eat with Amelia?” , he’d understood. He promised to Regulus that he would always be his best friend, even if he made other friends and that had soothed Regulus until a few years later, when another kind of sickness had come over him.
It was fourth year, then, a year before this fateful game of truth or dare. So long after the Amelia Bones Treaty that it had been put completely out of his mind. Regulus had chalked up his jealousy to him having experienced something similar with Sirius and James (which probably did have a little something to do with it) and forgot about it three months later. That was, that is, until November 21, 1975.
Regulus had looked back at the page in his journal, trying to make sense of exactly what realisation he’d had that day, exactly what series of events had taken place that forced him to address whatever it was that he knew he was hiding from himself, so many times that he had memorised the date. Then, of course, his father had read it aloud to his mother and brother. So he really would never forget.
(An excerpt of an entry from Regulus Black’s journal, dated 21.11.1975, translated from its original French)
There is something grievously wrong with me.
There was a match today, us against Gryffindor. We lost. It was brutal, actually, and not something I’d like to rehash or beat to death. We lost and it was bad.
After the match, Barty argued with Madam Hooch and tried to contest their victory but there was nothing she could do. The Gryffindors were too noble to have done anything unorthodox to win. They’d won fair and square.
He came back into the locker room all covered in sweat and his robes in disarray. His things were in the back, away from everyone else, where he always put them. I followed him.
I didn’t say anything, just sat on the bench. He was so visibly pissed off, throwing things into his locker, slamming it shut. He had to re-open it about three times because he’d closed it prematurely several times out of rage. Every time he hit the door, the muscles in his arm would flex.
I asked him what Hooch said to him, even though I obviously knew. He told me to shut the fuck up, so I did. But I didn’t leave. I didn’t do anything except sit there and watch him. It would have been embarrassing, I’m sure, if he wasn’t so wrapped up in himself and his anger to notice me.
He started changing and still didn’t seem to care I was sitting there just watching him. I could not for the life of me say why I didn’t turn or get up or do something. I just sat there, like a fool.
I was convinced he had forgotten I was there until he took off his undershirt and threw it at me instead of setting it down. If it were anyone else it would have been an aggressive gesture, but I know him well enough to know that it wasn’t. It was his way of acknowledging me there and telling me that if he wanted me gone, he would’ve said something.
So I held his shirt and I still looked at him. My stomach felt so strange and fluttery that I wanted to kill myself. It was a blessing by every being out there that I had the self control not to blush like a schoolgirl.
He had to open his locker one more time to put away the clothes he’d taken off (sidenote: it always amazes me how the house elves at Hogwarts find the time to do all that they do. I’m also shocked that they don’t strike- if I had to wash all of those clothes…) and get his shower things. This time he closed the locker in a much less hostile way than the past few times and he leaned on it to look at me. His eyes were hooded and tired and focused on me.
He said he was sorry for being so angry. I’ve noticed that recently that he’s been doing that a lot. Apologising. But I don’t think he does with Evan or Dorcas or Pandora. I’m probably reading too much into it.
I told him it was fine. He didn’t say anything after that, just went off and showered. I don’t think he noticed his undershirt still in my hands. I have it now, tucked in my wardrobe. I don’t know why I took it or what I’m going to do with it.
All this to say, I’ve realised something.
Of course, I’ll never be able to tell him. Or anyone else, for that matter. It would be suicide. And that’s not what interests me at the moment.
I’m loath to admit what actually does interest me.
It makes sense, though. Considering… everything. I thought, so long ago, that the reason I felt jealous that Barty was making friends with other people was because of Sirius. I thought it was normal that I sometimes dream about me and him living together after Hogwarts. Every time he mentions whatever poor girl he’s gotten to agree to go out with him, I thought that horrible sinking feeling that filled my stomach was unrelated.
With it all laid out like that, it’s impossible for me to deny it any longer.
I’m a homosexual.
“Yeah, I’m gay.”
“Like, full-on gay? Not like that muggle-bloke David who’s halfway?”
“What? What on Earth are you on about, Barty?”
“I’m sorry, I just-” Barty sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Regulus blinked. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
“Yeah! I thought I was your best mate.”
“You are,” Regulus said carefully. “I wanted to tell you, I just didn’t know if you’d be fine with it or snap my wand or something.”
“I wouldn’t have done something like that, Reg,” Barty said, quiet again.
“How was I supposed to know?” Regulus defended. “It had nothing to do with you personally, Barty. I think you know that.”
“Yeah, I do,” he acquiesced. Then, “Can I ask you something?”
Regulus had the childish urge to exhale wholly and fall backwards onto the couch. If he had to answer one more question he didn’t want to that night he might throw himself off of the Astronomy Tower.
But another childish urge befell him and suddenly he had the impulse to simply lay it all out for Barty: his queerness, his soul-crushing crush on the other boy, all of it. Again, he felt the water he was just barely floating in. To tell Barty would be to accept being pulled out of the depths with which he’d familiarised himself and live in the light on dry land.
“Sure.”
“How did you know that you’re gay? You haven’t- you’ve never… you know. Unless you have?”
His opening was right there. And besides, if everything went wrong, he could always obliviate Barty.
“It was second year. I had a crush on a boy but I obviously didn’t know it. I thought that’s what all friendship felt like—I didn’t know any better. I had other friends, obviously , but it was just my friendship with him that felt like that and that it was normal. Until he talked to a girl in class one day.”
Regulus looked up at Barty to see if he was showing anything on his face, but it remained annoyingly neutral. He went on.
“I got insanely jealous and didn’t talk to him for a while. It wasn’t until two years later that I realised why I got jealous, though. I… it was stupid, but I… saw him one day, in a way I hadn’t before. He was worked up over something and I just realised . It all clicked for me after that.”
Regulus made eye contact with Barty again, who was still showing nothing on his face. When he opened his mouth, Regulus expected accusations, guesses, not what he did end up saying.
“So fourth year? But wasn’t that when you dated Emma?”
“ That’s what you’re focused on?” Regulus asked, mouth agape.
“Well yes!”
Sighing, Regulus divulged the truth about his and Emma’s relationship. “I only ever asked her out so people wouldn’t think I was gay.”
“But no one thought you were gay.”
“Exactly. Even I didn’t. But if I could eventually figure it out, so could someone else. I had to preempt it,” he shrugged.
(A second excerpt of an entry from Regulus Black’s journal dated 21.11.1975, translated from its original French)
I thought about it while I showered and I think I’ve come up with a solution. No one knows I’m gay and I’m obviously not eager to change that. I’ve never dated a girl before because I never fancied any. Upon reflection, that was foolish.
I’ve decided I have to ask someone on a date. My options are more or less between Emma Vanity and the wall. I don’t think we’d draw too much attention, her being a Slytherin and a pureblood and a girl, but it’ll get the trick done.
I feel bad using her but I suppose this is an ends-justify-the-means kind of situation. She’s tough, anyway, and I’ll make sure she knows I’m not looking for anything serious. This whole situation is fucked. I don’t know why I can’t just be normal. Or why Barty can’t have been a girl.
That’s all for tonight. I’m exhausted.
RAB
“So you never liked her?”
“Not at all,” Regulus assured Barty. “I’d say in hindsight it wasn’t good what I did to her, but I knew it wasn’t good when I did it. She didn’t seem too upset when we broke up, though.”
“And that rumour about Emmeline? That was the same year, wasn’t it?”
Regulus sighed. “That was… an embarrassing display of overcompensation. I ended things with Emma but then worried that it was suspicious. A few months later I slipped a note to Rita Skeeter saying I liked Emmeline and the next day I got asked by four different people if it was true. I suppose the intended goal was reached, but the way I got there may have been a bit excessive.”
Regulus was relieved beyond no extent that Barty was okay about him being gay. He didn’t want to admit it, but approval, especially from those he loved, meant more to him than he could even begin to convey. Barty seemed content with not knowing the boy that Regulus had a crush on and Regulus was content with that, too, for now. Baby steps, he thought. At least he knew Barty still thought of him as a human being. No need to spring on him his crush of three years. Maybe one d-
“So who’s the boy?” Barty asked, breaking the comfortable silence they’d fallen into. His demeanour told Regulus all he needed to know.
Not for the first time that night, Regulus wanted to stand up and scream. But he stayed right where he was, and, yet again, weighed his options. Confirm verbally to Barty what he already knew, or stay silent now and probably forever.
“Do you really want to know?” Regulus implored, looking as deep as he possibly could into Barty’s eyes without seeing straight through him. Do you really want me to say it?
“Yes,” Barty breathed.
Regulus inhaled and felt again the walls inside him crumbling to the ground, this time without the assistance of Veritaserum.
“You, Barty. It’s always been you.”
The truth was there, laid out between them. There was barely a moment, not even enough time for Regulus to begin overthinking before he felt lips crash against his own in a way that was almost painful.
Barty’s lips tasted like firewhisky and cigarettes and desire, and when his tongue pressed against Regulus’s lips and he opened his mouth the taste enveloped him, took over all of his senses, blindfolded him, filled his ears with cotton, gagged him, and tied his hands behind his back. All there was, all that was important, was Barty.
Barty. Barty, Barty, Barty .
Barty’s hands went straight to his hair and Regulus actually sighed .
He’d never done this before. He’d kissed Emma in those four weeks they’d dated, but it hadn’t once made him feel a thing. But kissing a boy, kissing the boy he’s loved since he sat next to Regulus at the sorting, kissing Barty set off hundreds of thousands of fireworks in him. He’d never known feelings in the extreme could be anything other than negative. He’d felt his soul shatter and his throat close with sadness and his eyes be sore from crying but he’d never felt this . This all consuming happiness, excitement that spread from his chest to his fingers. It was the highest he’d ever felt, one that he could live on forever.
Without breaking away, Barty slid his hands under Regulus’ shirt, his warm hands in stark contrast with Regulus’ ever-cold abdomen. The sound that left Regulus’ mouth was not one he would ever be eager to tell anyone about.
In a brief moment of sobriety, Regulus abruptly pulled away from Barty.
The other boy’s lips were wet and plump, his cheeks flushed red and his hair mussed from where Regulus had buried his hands. Regulus couldn’t imagine he looked much different.
“What?” asked Barty, eyes darting all over Regulus’ face. Regulus pitied him for a moment.
“What are we doing? You’re not… I mean… Barty, what is this? Are you gay?” It hurt Regulus to say. Everything hurt Regulus. Barty was there and he was kissing him and it was everything he had wanted since he was 12. But he didn’t want it if it was just some drunken experiment or a heat-of-the-moment-and-then-never-again thing.
Barty was the one to fall against the couch this time, his hands finding their way over his face. He stayed quiet for longer than Regulus had ever known him capable of.
“I… I’ve never kissed a boy before. Not like that. Yeah, I’ve been drunk at parties before and yeah , I’ve kissed a boy or two, nothing more than a peck, but I haven’t thought about it. I know I like girls. I mean,” he chuckled weakly. “Obviously. But… I can’t figure it out. I see you and I know I want to kiss you. I think I always have, I just hadn’t realised until now. I just did and I enjoyed it. Immensely, by the way. I just… it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I like you. And you like me. Why figure it out further, you know? We can kiss, we can hold hands and skip down the corridors, if that’s what you want. I don’t really care for figuring out the technicalities of it, you know?”
“No. Not really,” Regulus stated coldly. His high was more or less gone.
Regulus liked clear, defined things. He liked knowing where he stood in people’s lives and he didn’t like things with no labels. He didn’t care if Barty decided he was straight after all. At least that was a definitive, quantitative thing. That would be better than being his low-commitment casual boyfriend, or whatever it was Barty was even implying.
It felt, in a way, familiar to Regulus. The situation. The thing was, here was everything he’d wanted for so long. His friends knew he was gay and they were okay with it. Barty knew and apparently reciprocated in his own, unique way, the maddening crush Regulus had on him. And he was willing to … what? Be his friend with benefits?
How different was this, really, to when Regulus had finally hit the perfect groove with his parents, their violence finding him less and less, finally feeling like maybe he could survive this until he graduated, then, the next night, going to sleep in a brand new bed at the Potters’?
He was always so close.
Barty knew exactly where exactly his mistake lied, knowing Regulus too well for either of their own goods. Sighing, he tried again. “Okay. So that’s not a great idea.” Regulus rolled his eyes. “You know I’m not good at this. Being vulnerable or whatever. So just bear with me. I like you,” he repeated. “I like blokes and birds and I want to be able to kiss you. That’s what I know. I don’t honestly care for labels myself but if it’s what you want I’d be more than happy to call you my boyfriend. I’m not sure of any specifics, given that it would probably be suicide for us to actually hold hands and skip down the halls, but even then if that’s what you want then so be it.” He ran his fingers through his hair, a tic of his that always set Regulus off a bit.
Regulus was silent for a moment. Barty’s previous façade of neutrality was nowhere to be found and Regulus could see that somehow when he hadn’t been looking, their roles had been reversed.
“I don’t know what I want,” said Regulus slowly. “I honestly never thought I would get this far.”
“I know you’re gonna hate this,” Barty started, to which Regulus scoffed. “But how about we play this by ear. We figure it out as we go along. Let’s kiss, let’s go on dates. It doesn’t have to all be sorted this second.”
Regulus thought it over.
It wasn’t the ideal plan. He liked knowing where he stood with people. He didn’t like giving them leeway to leave him, to sweep any rugs out from under his feet, take all of their love back without telling him what he did to deserve it. If he agreed to this thing with Barty—a relationship, he supposed—he would give Barty more power to do that than he had anyone since he was a child, telling his brother not to tell anyone, but he loved him more than he did mother and father.
He knew that a lot of how he was feeling was a bit nonsensical. He wasn’t seeking out a marriage pact with Barty. How he hated that his mind immediately told him that his only two options in any romantic relationship were either spending forever together or breaking up. His heart wanted this with Barty and had for so long . He didn’t know why his mind was sending him such mixed signals. He didn’t know why he couldn’t just accept a good thing as it came to him.
Barty was extending more graciousness to him than Regulus knew he even had in him. He’d never been one to put this much thought into any relationship. All of the girls he’d dated before had been such low-commitment girlfriends that sometimes, during some of the most self-indulgent, pitiful moments of this crush, he’d imagined being that for Barty, just so that he’d have some part of him.
For him to offer this future—this possibility of a future—showed just how much he was ready to put into this. Barty had his own commitment issues, the same as Regulus had his with abandonment. If he was willing to put those aside to promise whatever he was promising Regulus, Regulus should be able to do the same.
He heard Sirius in the back of his mind. You love making problems out of nothing.
“Alright.”
“Alright? Are you sure?”
“Yes, Barty, I’m sure,” Regulus said earnestly. “I don’t know what I want except that it’s you and that it has been for longer than I can even recall. I- I’m willing to take this slow and I know that it’s going to be hard but I-” Regulus looked in Barty’s eyes, searching for even one sign that this wasn’t the right decision. There were none. “I want to do this.”
Barty beamed at him.
He practically launched himself at Regulus, meeting their mouths together again once. Barty took advantage of his position over Regulus to plaster kisses all over his face which had Regulus blushing harder than he ever had and, though he would deny it until his dying day, even giggling.
He was downright euphoric.
He had never expected to actually have Barty. He had more or less entirely resigned himself years ago to the fact that his straight (sometimes apparently bicurious when drunk? He would have to ask about that later, for his own sanity) best friend that he’d had a crush on essentially since they’d met would never reciprocate his feelings. This was more than a dream come true scenario. It was a died-and-went-to-heaven scenario.
Barty planted one final kiss to Regulus’ lips and rested his head on his chest, his nose grazing Regulus’ neck. “As lovely as this is, I’m absolutely wiped.”
“So am I. I’ve done more soul-baring tonight than I have my entire life.” Regulus felt Barty huff in laughter. “We should go back to our dorm.”
“Mmmmmbut you’re so comfortable,” Barty whined, burrowing even deeper into Regulus’ chest.
“Barty.”
“I’m already asleep.” He closed his eyes for good measure. “Goodnight, Reg.”
Regulus, absolutely exhausted himself, decided to just resign himself. The only other people in the Slytherin dorms that night were Dorcas, Pandora, Evan, and Lucinda, and Regulus was almost positive that Lucinda had recently been bitten by a vampire, given that since the start of the holiday she hadn’t left her dorm room before 1 p.m..
Regulus planted a kiss to the top of Barty’s head and prayed that the other boy couldn’t hear his heart speed up as he did. Regulus let his eyes close and for the first time in a long time, fell asleep right away.