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They shouldn’t be doing this, but Regulus can’t help himself. One last hurrah, or whatever. He doesn’t know. He just knows that the way Evan is looking at him makes his stomach churn.
He wishes things were different.
“Marry me,” Evan whispers as he takes Regulus’s hand in his and kisses his wrist. “Please, Reg. Marry me instead.”
Regulus has never been brave. He imagines a future with Evan — with happiness and love and easy affection, and maybe, someday, with magical intervention, children. He wants it so badly it aches.
Sirius would call him a moron, but Sirius isn’t here. Sirius was disowned years ago, and… this is the price Regulus has to pay for what he did. For being too much of a coward to join up. Evan’s parents love him — loved him enough to take his refusal with relative grace. Regulus’s parents, on the other hand…
“You know I can’t,” Regulus says. He doesn’t say, no matter how much I want to. Evan knows what he wants.
Evan also knows he’s too much of a coward to do it.
“You can,” Evan argues. If he were anyone else, he might throw in something about how he feels like Regulus loves him less for this. But he won’t, because he’s Evan.
Even though Regulus is entirely certain Evan feels that way.
Regulus would spend the rest of his life assuring Evan how much he loves him if he could. Maybe Evan is right, though. Maybe Regulus doesn’t love Evan as much as Evan loves him. He knows for a fact that Evan would never marry anyone else if he had another choice.
He tries his best not to think about how badly Evan must be hurting; about how badly he would hurt if Evan did this to him, arranged though this marriage may be.
“I need to get out there,” Regulus says.
Evan presses another kiss to his wrist. “Stay.”
“Evan.”
“Regulus.”
Even though it breaks his heart, Regulus pulls away.
As Regulus and his new wife depart for a hotel in Paris, he can’t help but think about Evan. He’s terribly anxious; it only gets worse the closer they get to sharing a room. By the time they’re put together in a suite, Regulus is a hair’s breadth away from a panic attack.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” he blurts out.
His new wife (wife) looks confused, but nods. “Okay.”
He rushes to the bathroom and locks the door just in time to feel everything closing in on him. He tries to breathe. Evan always helped with this part, but Evan isn’t here. He tries to make himself think about what Evan would want. Breathing. In and out.
It doesn’t really work. Is this the rest of his life? Or is this just an initial stumbling block?
His mind can’t help but spiral. Forever, bound to a witch who he can never love. He could have run away with Evan. Maybe he still can. Evan would let him. Evan would go anywhere with him. Do anything for him.
He certainly never imagined that he’d spend his wedding night sobbing and rocking back and forth in a bathtub. Fuck, he hopes he doesn’t have to touch her. Technically, he knows he has to touch her — he has to consummate the marriage; she’ll expect it. At the idea, he feels sick to his stomach.
He nearly doesn’t hear the knock at the door.
Nearly.
“Regulus?”
“Out in a moment!” he manages.
Is this the rest of his life? Cowering in a bathtub from his wife? Maybe he should have taken Evan up on his offer — society be damned.
He manages to calm himself enough to splash cool water on his face and exit the bathroom. She’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, drawing in a notebook. She looks up at the sound of the door and smiles softly. “Hello,” she says, putting her drawing aside. “I think we should talk.”
He feels like a man facing the gallows. “We don’t need to talk.” Should he start undressing now? Later? He’s never done this with a witch, and has no idea what she’ll expect.
She plays with her ring. Her ring. He’s bound to her now, no matter what happens. It makes him want to cry again.
“I think we do,” she says, finally looking back up at him. “You can sit down if you’d like.”
“I’ll stand.”
She nods. “Okay.” She meets his gaze; she doesn’t look upset, but who can ever really tell? His mother was particularly skilled at hiding her anger until it was too late and—
“Regulus,” she says softly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
How can he be sure of that, though? Especially once she learns the truth. If she learns the truth. He’s spent so long hiding the truth — what’s the rest of his life?
Unbidden, he remembers those late nights with Evan sneaking about the castle and feels an ache. He’ll never get to have that again. Ever. It’d probably even be for the best if he and Evan never speak again, but he knows he couldn’t stand that.
“I don’t want to have sex with you,” she says. It’s so straightforward that it takes him aback. Then again, she’s French. No English witch would have anything to do with him. He knows why.
“We —”
“I’m only interested in witches. I know we’ve only just met today, but I was hardly blind to the way you and Evan were looking at each other.”
“That’s —”
“You don’t need to lie to me. I have no expectation that we have sex. We’ll claim infertility and go to one of those wards no one in our society ever really talks about, and we’ll have children that way. I want friendship, if you’re willing. In exchange, you can keep up things with Evan as you have been.”
Regulus could very nearly pass out. What is she saying?
“I don’t want to be one of those couples who hate each other. Cissy put me forward because she knows the truth.”
And yes, it is true that his new wife (how the word still makes him feel ill) was hand-selected by Cissy — that she’s Cissy’s other cousin, on her mother’s side (and therefore Evan’s cousin, too).
“I don’t hate you,” he says honestly.
“And I don’t want you to grow to. I want us to be as happy as we can manage in a society like ours. You can keep Evan, and I’ll find someone of my own. We’ll never touch each other in that way, and we’ll have beautiful children who we’ll spoil. I know it’s not ideal, but it is something, is it not?”
It is.
It’s more than he let himself hope for.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“Absolutely.” She pats the spot on the bed next to her. “Now, come tell me about yourself. All I’ve heard are Quidditch and academic accomplishments. I’m sure there must be more to you than that.”
He doesn’t tell her that he doesn’t know anything about her.
This situation isn’t what he wants, but maybe… maybe this is something he can handle.
He sits down next to her.