Chapter Text
If I left the country, would you search and search?
Or would you give up easy and find me in the dirt?
Would I live forever / or blend right into earth?
If I just vanished do you think you’d manage
or would you disappear right beside me?
Do you think you’re ready when I go unsteady?
Lover, please prepare for my absence.
~ Absence, Rio Romeo
September, 1977
The first night back at Hogwarts after summer break, the world began to close in.
Or, perhaps, it pulsed. Small, self-contained summer lives expanded outwards around the grounds of the school. Then the limits curled inward again, towards Houses and classes and schedules and rules. The first day of the school year always herded students into the lines of their Houses for the sake of "community" and "reaching out", as if it didn't only enforce more arbitrary order. Barty just found it bothersome; he'd barely seen Regulus once since they got off the train.
Barty and Pandora stuck side by side once everyone was sectioned off by house. He could barely stand anyone in Ravenclaw other than Pandora. For the House defined by cleverness and wit, Barty found them all to be dreadfully slow.
The Great Hall bustled with life as first years were gifted their shiny new reputations, those which they would be burdened to carry for the next seven years. Barty didn't care much for the Houses or the Sorting, but he did like listening to the names of the little ones as they approached the Hat, and he liked watching their faces.
He would watch their expressions, the ways they looked at the Hat, the ways they looked at the crowd in front of them, and he'd make predictions about where they'd be sorted. Sometimes Pandora played that game with him. In all their years of school together, only one or two students managed to fool both of them at once.
Pandora's presence next to him at the Ravenclaw table was a blessing. Everything that Barty found tedious, Pandora found charming. While the other students saw all of this as their right, their normal, and while Barty saw this as a burden to trudge through, Pandora saw it as something else entirely. Every moment with her was a moment of wonder.
As if she had floated down from some mythical other plane, she embraced each facet of life as if it was novel. No food served in the castle, no cobbled path in Hogsmeade, no tiled floor nor essay nor lighting fixture could ever become familiar enough that it became dull. Nothing here belonged to Pandora. It belonged to the people, and the Princess Lestrange was very fond of the people.
One man's trifle was Pandora's trinket. Barty only met Pandora through Regulus, but he was glad to know her. While he was a stranger to her world—a world of curses and romance and Regulus—she was a stranger to his. It brought a sense of balance to his meals.
"It's too easy to tell this year. That priss is clearly a Gryffindor," he complained, tracking the little brunette girl as she sat on the stool and pulled on the Hat. Only moments after it touched her head did it exclaim, Gryffindor! the same way it had done what felt like a hundred times that evening. Barty groaned and dropped his head onto the table.
Above him, Pandora laughed. "Oh, but she's so cute, Barty! She's so excited. Just think of all the life she has ahead of her. All the memories she's going to make here."
Barty waved his hand. "Who bloody cares? She'll grow up to be plain-looking, she'll shag some boys, she'll do meaningless busy-work, she'll graduate and live a boring, forgettable life."
When Barty tilted his head back up, all he saw was Pandora smiling down on him, eyes bright and knowing. Pandora was lovely, but when she looked at him like that, all condescending and calmly smug, she just pissed him off. As if she knew anything at all! She grew up more sheltered than Barty did, and that was saying something. Who was she to look at him like that? "Isn't that the dream?" she sighed, turning her attention back to the stage. Barty ducked his head and scowled into his arms.
He fought the urge to just stand up and leave. Although they were allowed to mingle among students from other Houses normally, this privilege was rescinded during the Sorting Ceremony to emphasize House pride. Regulus and Evan and Dorcas sat so close and yet so far, breathing the same air he was, and yet also the same air that a school-full of other students were. He could imagine them at the Slytherin table, continuing the post-summer catch up conversation the five of them had been having in the train, now without him. A sharp hunger pain gnawed in his midsection. He felt terribly empty. So empty he couldn't ignore it. He almost felt nauseous. He ground his teeth to stop his hands from twitching.
"I wish we could just eat already—" Barty said, sitting up to face Pandora again and instead being met with an empty space next to him. "Oh, what the hell." She had a habit of disappearing and reappearing from conversations at a whim, as if societal rules of courtesy did not apply to her. Barty sighed and put his head down, opting to listen in on the blabbering, meaningless gossip pouring out of the mouths of his peers.
For another hour—maybe less, maybe more, Barty couldn't tell because he felt like his brain was melting out of his skull—he learned all about the summer trip to Italy that Eleanor took and the expensive gift that Phineas got for his birthday. If only he cared.
It was easy to tell when the Sorting was almost over. When the last kid went up, the hall erupted into cheers and screams. He cheered along for the fun of it, and because Regulus wasn't there to chastise him for his immaturity. Regulus was allergic to anything excessively loud.
The kid was obviously going into Hufflepuff. He approached the chair without any bravado or significant pride. The volume of the crowd didn't seem to excite nor intimidate the little one. He placed the Hat on the crown of his head gently, like he could hurt it if he was too hasty. Barty was quickly proven correct, and the majority of the room devolved into groans while the Hufflepuff table cheered and awed.
Barty fought hard to not fall asleep as Dumbledore talked for far too long, as if his words would truly reach anyone in a hall of restless adolescents. Then, at long last, the feast began to be summoned onto the tables.
Barty sighed. "Finally—" he began. Pandora reappeared at Barty's side out of nowhere. He flinched and dropped the fork he had just picked up, the silver bouncing against the tablecloth. "Merlin-!"
"Barty," Pandora started, strangely sober. Her hand landed on Barty's shoulder and he fell into silence, furrowing his brow. "You should go find Regulus."
"What?" He blinked, and then he processed. Barty stood up, pushing away from the table, all hunger forgotten. "Okay." He asked no questions before fleeing the Ravenclaw table, eyes scanning for that crown of perfect black curls.
The hall was loud and busy enough for Barty to move about without getting called out for it; kids talking over each other and plates clinking and spoons hitting bowls filled the room with dense sound and movement. Pandora had given him zero clues as to where Regulus actually was. Helpful dame.
Circling the Slytherin table a few times over, Barty failed to catch sight of him. On the third time around, Dorcas called him out for it. He blushed and flipped her off and marched away, deciding he obviously could not return for a fourth inspection.
He wandered for what felt like ages, feeling honestly quite stupid as he went. Eventually though, he spotted Evan's blond mop poking out from behind the shadow of a column, perched by a wall. Evan Rosier was perhaps a head taller than Regulus, so maybe Barty should have been keeping his eye out for Evan the whole time instead; after all, he and the little prince were inseparable. If Barty could find one, the other would be close behind.
Barty ducked through the colonnade, cozying up between Evan and Regulus. Regulus jumped a little, nearly hitting his head against the stone bricks he was leaning against. Barty started, "Hey—"
Regulus sighed at the sight of him. "Oh, there you are," he said, relaxing. Barty leaned in close enough so that their arms were touching and ignored Evan rolling his eyes.
"What's wrong? Are you okay?" Barty questioned.
Giving him a flat look, Regulus dismissed him, "Of course I'm okay, Barty. Don't be dramatic."
Evan flicked Barty in the head. "Pandora said she would fetch you. What took you so long?" Evan asked, standing in contrapposto.
Barty snorted. "She didn't tell me where you were. And you two were practically hiding."
"Don't be dramatic," Evan scoffed, repeating Regulus' words. Out of Evan's mouth, they did not matter as much.
"Says you."
"Guys," Regulus said, frowning. Both of them shut up at once, heads turning towards Regulus. "Can we go?"
Evan bounced up like a wind-up toy that had just been released. "Oh! Yes, of course! Come, come." He linked his arm with Regulus' and began to pull him onward. Barty latched onto Regulus' sleeve as soon as they started moving, and the three of them became a little train, shuffling along the wall so as to not be noticed.
On the tail end of the chain, Barty followed the other two down the familiar path to the Slytherin boys' dormitories. Their footsteps against the cool tile of the floors echoed through the dungeons. The halls here were quiet for once. It unsettled Barty, the lack of students clumping together against walls and chit-chatting about meaningless rubbish. It felt infinitely wrong. But then he looked at Regulus, the calm gladness in the set of his lips, and Barty decided it was okay.
They all unlinked once they reached the entrance to the common room. Regulus didn't hesitate for a moment before saying the password in front of Barty. They'd gone through five years of this already—was a sixth year of sneaking into other common rooms really so bad? Regulus headed straight to his and Evan's dorm, ignoring the rest of the space. Barty always enjoyed snooping around, but he could do that another time.
Barty stalled in the doorway because Evan was standing in the way. Regulus stepped around and dragged Barty the rest of the way in, letting him stumble on his feet a little. Evan shut the door behind them and the quiet of the dorm became only theirs. A beat passed. Regulus rubbed his thumb up and down against the side seam of his trousers. Barty narrowed his eyes. "So what is it then?"
"Come on, Reg!" Evan urged, knocking an elbow into Regulus' arm as a grin grew on his face. Barty raised an eyebrow.
Regulus shoved Evan off of him and towards Barty before sighing. Evan settled, leaning against Barty's side. Barty's eyes never once left Regulus. "I got it," Regulus stated, eyes flicking between Barty and Evan and the wall behind them.
Barty gave him an awkward half-smile. "Got what?" Evan grabbed Barty's shoulders and shook him. "Evan- stop—" When Barty finally took a look at Evan, he was grinning wide, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a kid. He had a contagious smile—warm and bright and soft. Barty's eyes drifted back to Regulus and found a small, subtle curve in his lips.
"Well?" Evan prompted Regulus, leaning forward with his hands still on Barty, pushing him slightly off balance.
Regulus huffed. He averted his eyes from either of them as he pulled up his left sleeve. Oh, Barty thought. Evan's hands disappeared from his shoulders and Barty centered his weight. He got it.
A proper grin grew on Barty's face. His smiles were sharp and electric—off-putting compared to Evan's. They pulled at his cheeks and showed too much teeth. None of his friends seemed to mind. "Regulus, that's amazing! You're- well, you're the first of us lot, aren't you? Of students?"
"He's only been taking adults until now," Evan confirmed, nodding. "Our Regulus is setting a precedent."
Barty's hand reached towards Regulus' arm. "Can I?" Regulus responded by silently lifting his arm to Barty's hand.
The Dark Mark was striking against Regulus' skin—inky black over a porcelain canvas, almost Oriental in style. A skull with its jaw hanging open, almost appearing gagged by the snake writhing out of the back of its throat. The snake's mouth was also wide, fangs barred and sharp. Barty could not imagine Regulus getting a tattoo like this for any other reason; it was too gruesome, too barbaric, too blunt for his superior tastes. Barty kind of wanted to lick it.
"That's… wow. It's fantastic," Barty muttered, his breath tickling Regulus' inner wrist. "When did you get it?"
Regulus finally looked up at him again. "Mm. Oh, a few days after my birthday," he said offhandedly.
Barty turned over his shoulder to glance at Evan, whose smile resembled one of a proud cat. "Were you there?" Barty asked.
Evan shook his head. "Nope. He only showed me 'round a week before summer was over."
"So mysterious," Barty sang, pressing a kiss to Regulus' hand. Regulus went pink, batting his hand weakly at Barty's face and pulling away while Barty snickered.
"What was it like?" Evan asked, eyes bright as he leaned in.
"You didn't ask these questions earlier?"
"I was waiting for you!"
"Oh, how chivalrous," Barty teased.
Regulus ignored their back-and-forth, shrugging and turning his head away. "It was fine. Kind of ritualistic, I suppose, but not much more than the Sorting Ceremony." Barty huffed lightly, rolling his eyes at the mention of it. "I mean… it was special. It felt special."
Barty visualized it in his head. Perhaps there were ornate robes involved, and candles. Maybe someone was playing the violin or the piano, serenading Regulus as he walked towards his destiny. Perhaps this image in his mind looked a little too much like a wedding for Barty's comfort, actually.
"Of course it was special, Regulus. It was for you," Evan said, voice warm. Barty nodded, wishing he had said something like that first.
"It was special because of Him," Regulus corrected. "He was… amazing. It's- it's really something to have all of his attention on you and you alone." He tilted his head slightly, remembering as he spoke. Barty's stomach twisted with envy, but that feeling was overshadowed by his heart beating against his ribs. The curve of Regulus' neck, the elegance of his lips, the bright storm of his eyes. Barty wanted to grab the boy and shake him.
Regulus shook his head, and then his eyes were back on the two of them, and Barty was thinking things he was meant to be thinking again. "I mean… yeah. It was good. Actually getting the Mark hurt but- it was fine. It wasn't that bad."
Both Barty and Evan's faces contorted at that. Baptism of fire, then.
Something in Barty's chest twisted at the idea. Now that Regulus had gotten the Mark, Evan and himself were certainly in the queue to be next. Barty didn't mind the idea of hurting for the sake of the Dark Lord. He was sure that Evan would choose to go through it as well, so it wasn't much use to feel badly about that either. But… the thought of Regulus putting himself in a position to be hurt, all for- what? A tattoo? A brand? Barty's hand twitched.
But no. He was fine with it. It was the Dark Lord, after all, and it was Regulus. He could take it. Barty knew he could take it. He said it was fine. Barty couldn't be thinking like this.
"… It hurt? Ah- well, I guess that's the price of greatness," Evan joked. A corner of Regulus' mouth twitched upwards and he scoffed the softest little laugh, more like an amused sigh than anything.
Barty nodded and picked Regulus' arm back up. He plastered on a smile—he was excited, really, he was!—and gestured to the Mark. "Gotta be. I mean, look at that. Definitely worth it, yeah?"
In response to Barty, Regulus only hummed. Barty watched as his mouth flattened into a line and his eyes squinted at the floor, brow pinched. A beat passed.
Evan frowned, eyebrows worried. "Regulus?" he muttered, and then Regulus was crying.
Regulus was crying.
Tears spilled down the planes of his cheeks and his face flushed. He tilted his head down and let his hair fall over his face like a curtain. He made no sound. Barty stood frozen, watching in a sort of wonder. If Barty hadn't seen the tears when they began, and if Barty hadn't seen Regulus cry several times before, he wouldn't have known. "Reg?" Evan repeated. "Hey- what's wrong?"
Regulus did not respond. He only stood there, back against the footboard of his bed. When Regulus cried, he cried like it was a secret. As soon as his eyes got wet, he became discreet and quiet and still, like he was made of marble and not flesh, because marble could not cry.
The empty eyes of the skull and the hungry maw of the snake sneered quietly at Barty. Barty took Regulus' sleeve and pulled it back over his arm, hiding the Mark from view. Regulus sniffled. Evan's eyes widened in realization as he leaned forward, close to Regulus' shoulder. Barty let go of Regulus' arm to settle on his other side, and Regulus' hands came up to hide himself.
"You were so excited. What happened?" Evan asked softly.
Regulus shook his head, his eyes covered by his hands. His lips were red and wet as he spoke. "I'm still excited," he said, voice unsteady. "I'm still excited- I don't know. I don't know."
"It's just a lot," said Barty, uselessly. "It's a lot. You're overwhelmed."
Regulus' hands fell down his face as he sniffled, covering his mouth and nose. His eyes were puffy and his eyelashes drooped under the weight of his tears. His gaze remained downcast, settled on the foot of a bedpost. "He is—" his voice caught in his throat as his sentence triggered a new wave of tears. He retreated back behind his hands, a fortress. "He's never going to—" he gasped for a breath, "he won't forgive me," he whispered. His shoulders rocked as he drifted back into silence, body trembling like an earthquake on mute.
Barty brushed a piece of Regulus' bangs out of his face as Evan leaned his cheek on Regulus' shoulder. "Who won't forgive you, darling?" Evan asked.
The hair that Barty pushed away fell right back into place as Regulus dipped his head again, tucking his chin down. He remained silent for a few moments before sniffling. "My brother," he eventually exhaled, barely using his vocal chords at all.
Evan and Barty shared a look over Regulus' head.
"Don't let him ruin this for you, Reggie." One of Barty's hands came up to cover Regulus', guiding them slowly down so that Barty could at least see the other boy's eyes. "This isn't about him. You know this is the right thing to do. You know you can do whatever you want."
Regulus peered up at him, and past his wet eyelashes Barty could feel the blatant rejection of his words. Then Regulus blinked and Barty lost him, and he watched as two stray tears fell from his eyes, graceful, racing like children chasing the sun. "I don't know if I want this," he confessed, staring straight ahead, not at Barty nor Evan. Straight ahead.
Evan's brow furrowed. "You don't?"
"I—" Regulus shuddered, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands. "I mean- the Mark. It's so… permanent. What about after the war?"
"It will be something to be proud of," Evan suggested. "A status symbol. Proof you were in on the ground floor."
As if he didn't hear Evan, his mind far away, Regulus asked, "What if we don't win?"
"It will be proof that you tried," offered Barty.
"What if I die?"
Evan's expression hardened. Barty blinked hard, and shook his head, shoving the image that just violated his mind out of sight. Regulus just stood there, like he didn't realize the power of his words. "Don't say that," Barty said, pouting without realizing it. "You won't."
The corners of Regulus' mouth twitched upwards and Barty couldn't possibly understand why. "What if I do?"
"It will be evidence you fought on the right side," Evan stated, eyes focused on Regulus'. "No one will be able to dispute it. Barty averted his eyes from either of them.
"It will be proof I died for someone," Regulus corrected. "And the historians will think it was him I died for. Not my family. Not wizardkind. Not…" he trailed off. He shook his head. "Not that any of that matters. I already have the bloody thing," he sighed.
"Oh, don't be so defeatist." Evan brushed a hand through Regulus' hair. "He chose you to be the first of us students. You know that's cool, right?"
"And the Mark isn't about him, it's about the cause," Barty noted. "Either way, it's still your skin. Not even this can change that."
"I guess…" Regulus pressed his palms into his eyes. When his hands came down, Barty pressed the sleeve of his robe against Regulus' face, wiping it dry. Regulus sputtered from under the fabric, pushing at Barty's arm. "Barty—"
"Just drying your face," Barty said.
Regulus pushed his sleeve away and grimaced. "Your sleeve is all snotty now."
Barty shrugged. "That's what house elves are for." Regulus hit him. "Ow! Merlin- you know I'm joking!"
"He's had a long day," Evan decided curtly, standing up straight and pulling on Regulus' arm. He stumbled and Evan used that momentum to drag him around and onto the bed. Regulus yelped as Evan hefted him over the made sheets and then settled in beside him. Barty grinned and climbed around the other side of Regulus.
"Of course. The Lord of House Black needs his rest," Barty cooed. Regulus scoffed and hit him again. Barty just laughed.
He watched as Regulus glared at the ceiling, eyes still wet. Evan pushed himself up on an elbow just enough to peer over Regulus. "Don't look so dejected, darling. It's exciting," he said earnestly. "This is opening new doors, okay?"
Regulus just kept staring up, eyes half-lidded. "Mm."
"You can do anything, Regulus," Evan insisted, bringing his lips close to the other boy's ear. "You're special."
Barty pressed his face into Regulus' shoulder. To reciprocate, Regulus bent his arm up to cup the back of Barty's head. "And anything you want- we'll get it for you," Barty whispered against his sleeve. "Okay? Just stop looking so sad. Whatever you want, we will do it," Barty promised.
Regulus closed his eyes. “What can you possibly do for me?” he asked, voice hushed.
“I would do anything for you,” Barty confessed, feeling the words leave him without much thought, as if he had taken veritaserum.
Regulus opened his eyes just to roll them. “You’re absurd.”
“It’s true,” Evan added, shaking Regulus’ shoulder lightly. “And I would too. Anything. Anything at all. You know that.” He placed his left palm against Regulus’ left palm, and joined their fingers together.
Barty nodded and buried his face into Regulus’ collarbone. “Here I renew my oath at the Pentecost."
"You're ridiculous," Regulus breathed.
"Anywhere you point, I will go. Then draw me from your scabbard, then sheathe me away.”
“In sickness and in health,” Evan added in a murmur, smiling in amusement at himself, and entirely sincere.
And Barty had a feeling that Regulus was just entertaining them. He could feel it in the way Regulus took a breath, and squeezed Evan’s hand, and looked at the flat pane of the stone suspended above, and closed his eyes. Regulus said, “Okay,” and Barty knew he was lying.
June 22, 1979
The sun beat on Barty's back like two hands on his shoulders, urging him forward. A burning pressure ached behind his eyes. Clutched in his left hand, a letter seared his palm, whispering to him the end of days.
Signed by Walburga and Orion Black, an invitation to have tea at Number 12, Grimmauld Place arrived on Barty's desk the previous morning. Under normal circumstances, Barty would have been ecstatic to receive such an invitation; he hated being home during the summer, and he loved Regulus, and he adored Regulus' house. It was only that he had not seen Regulus in almost a week, and that it was his parents inviting him over and not Regulus himself which irked him.
He had been standing in front of the house for a few minutes now, the windows like eyes, judging his hesitance. He wasn't entirely sure why he couldn't just go inside, why he was making this difficult for himself.
Barty exhaled and brushed a hand through his hair. A light layer of sweat covered his scalp, and he hoped he didn't look totally unpolished because of it. Since graduating, apparition had become the most obvious mode of transportation, both because of efficiency and the danger of the war haunting the streets. The issue was that after seven years of the Hogwarts castle and its ever-shifting stairs, Barty missed walking. So he walked here from Crouch Manor.
It was too hot out here, too hot for London, really. The pavement wanted him to go. He imagined Regulus inside, waiting for him. He imagined that when he entered, Regulus would be sitting there and sigh at him. "There you are," he would say. Barty twitched.
He stepped up to the door. He barely had time to raise his hand to knock as the door swung open. Kreacher stood before him, face tilted up towards Barty's but looking away, as if disinterested. Barty lowered his hand. "Hello, Kreacher," Barty greeted politely, because Regulus loved Kreacher in a way similar to how Barty loved Winky, and something in Barty stirred when people mistreated his house elf.
Kreacher grunted. "Come in. They're in the sitting room." He pulled the door further open so Barty could step around him. The door closed with a wave of Kreacher's hand as the elf led Barty out of the foyer.
The halls of Grimmauld Place were dark and elegant, lined with portraits and sconces and history. Thick curtains draped, strung back to let the light in, the windows pulled open to circulate hot summer air. Kreacher led Barty upstairs and then through more hallway before he stopped in front of a grand open door, so large that when left open, the subsequent room felt almost like an extension of the hall. Through the doorway, the eyes of Walburga and Orion Black were planted on Barty. He straightened his posture and ground his teeth and smiled.
"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Black. Good afternoon," he greeted, entering the drawing room with Kreacher beckoning him forward. Regulus' parents sat beside each other on a long couch. In front of that couch was a short coffee table, arranged with tea cups and a pot and a selection of finger sandwiches and pastries. On the other side of the coffee table, placed across from Walburga and Orion, was a velvet-cushioned loveseat. Reclining on that loveseat sat one Evan Rosier.
Only then did the tension in the air hit Barty like a brick. Walburga gave him a perfunctory smile. Orion only nodded at him. "Bartemius. We're glad you could make it," Mr. Black said, gesturing for Barty to take a seat next to Evan. Barty suppressed a cringe at the use of his full name and sat down. His hands came together in front of him, his right thumbing at the ring on his left.
"Thanks for inviting me…" Barty replied, unsure. He glanced at Evan, who was staring at him. Despite the polite smile he kept plastered on his face, Evan's eyes were narrowed, and he gave Barty a questioning look. Okay, so Barty wasn't alone in feeling weird about this meeting. And where was Regulus?
"Evan, dear, sit properly, won't you?" Walburga chided gently.
Evan chuckled and sat up straight. "Right. Sorry, ma'am." He finally acknowledged Barty explicitly, tilting his head at him. "You're late," Evan noted, smirking. Barty rolled his eyes. "Why are you late? It's a Friday afternoon in July."
Barty coughed into his hand. He didn't really want to admit that it was because he walked like a muggle. "My father had me run an errand," he said instead, and Evan's face fell.
"Oh, fair enough," Evan accepted. Barty knew that mentioning his father would always bring down the mood of anyone who knew his relationship with the man. If his father was good for anything, it was getting him out of conversations.
"Now that you're both here," Orion started, while Walburga poured a cup of tea for Barty, "it is probably time we explain why we invited you." Barty accepted his tea, muttering his quiet thanks to the matron.
"I'm sorry, sir, can I ask where Regulus is? I'm just a little bit confused. Surely you understand that this meeting feels… unorthodox, without Regulus here? Despite how lovely this tea is, of course," Evan managed to ask, somehow conveying his confusion in a polite and self-assured style. Barty hated that. Evan knew how to play the spoken word with grace, as if dancing. He always acted appropriately, never too pleased and never too disappointed. Barty took a deep breath.
Walburga's lips became a line and she looked away from the two of them, hands together in her lap. Orion sighed. "It's alright, Evan. That… is possibly the most relevant question you could ask. You see—"
"Regulus has been missing since Tuesday," Walburga interrupted, eyes suddenly spiky and alert, wide and flicking between Evan and Barty. Her right pointer finger tapped relentlessly on the knuckles of her other hand. "We… we invited you here to ask if either of you knew of his whereabouts. I- I think it is clear that you don't," she said, looking down at her lap. "So instead, I suppose we are here to inform you that he has disappeared." Her voice got small as she continued to speak.
Orion placed his own hand over hers. "Yes. That- is why we have invited you here," he finished.
The room seemed to still. Barty just stared at the two of them. He knew he should feel some shock, or some fear, but he didn't feel much of anything. He was confused.
"Do- do you think something happened to him?" Evan stammered, face perfectly concerned. Barty closed his mouth, which he hadn't realized fell slightly agape.
Regulus' father squeezed his wife's hand. Walburga was shaking slightly. "Considering the current… political climate—"
"It's a war," Walburga interrupted again.
Orion dipped his head. "Yes. Considering that, and our son's… involvement in it, we must keep such possibilities in mind." Walburga shook her head, but said nothing.
Barty twitched. "He probably just wanted some quiet, right?" he reasoned. "I mean, the war is a lot. We are a lot. I get it. He just needed a break."
When Barty looked at Evan for some sort of agreement, all he was met with was faint skepticism. "He… would have told someone. If not us, then definitely you two," Evan said, gesturing towards Walburga and Orion. "He's not the type to do something so careless."
Barty half-shrugged. "Maybe he worried that we'd fight him on it, so he just ran off. Maybe he told Pandora or something."
Evan huffed, brow furrowing. "He wouldn't run off without leaving some sort of notice. Especially for his parents, at the least. You know that- you're just making up half-baked excuses."
Barty twitched and he clenched his left hand, just to feel the ring of black marble on his wedding finger push against his flesh. "Well, sorry that I'm trying to deduce a little bit! Is that not what we're meant to do here? Because it seems like you are just jumping to the worst case scenarios. Heaven forbid I balance you out!" he rambled.
Evan smacked Barty's arm. Barty flinched, and pulled into himself. "The fuck…?" he muttered under his breath, watching as Evan took a breath and composed himself. Barty did the same. He was embarrassing himself in front of Regulus' parents, after all. He really must have hit a nerve if Evan decided to hit him in front of an audience of such prestige.
Walburga seemed agitated by their back and forth, but didn't say anything. She just stared at them, chewing on her cheek. Orion just kept a hand on his wife's back and let them calm down. "I know this is… hard to talk about. I'm really glad that you two care so much," he said.
"Of course we do," Barty muttered in a sigh. His eye kept twitching and he couldn't care to stop it anymore.
Evan nodded and ran a hand through his hair. "He's- Barty's right about Pandora though. Why isn't she here? She's his friend too- she should know." Of course Pandora was the part that Evan was stuck on.
"We were considering inviting her," Orion began. "Despite everything, we're quite fond of the girl. It's just that- we were unsure if she would take an invitation well, keeping in mind politics." Walburga sniffled and then straightened herself, still avoiding eye contact with Evan and Barty, but raising her chin in a snobby sort of way.
"Right," Evan accepted. "Well- I'll tell her, if that's okay."
"Of course. Thank you, Evan, dear," Walburga said, finally looking at them again.
Barty cleared his throat. "So, um- you said Tuesday he disappeared?"
"Yes," Walburga said, and then she tilted her head. "Well, really, we found his room empty on Tuesday morning. The last time we saw him was Monday night." Her face was twisted in obvious pain, as if she could not mask it, even for the sake of good etiquette.
"What measures are you taking to find him?" Barty asked. Evan elbowed him in the side. "Hey! It's- it's an important question."
"Don't be pushy—" Evan started, but then was interrupted by Mr. Black.
"No, it's alright, dear boy. It is a fair question. We did not want to go public with his disappearance too early, in case he came back, or in case this is something that truly would be best handled privately," he explained. Mrs. Black picked up her teacup and took a sip. Barty had forgotten all about the food in front of him. "As his parents, we have been searching his usual haunts, but have not found anything very useful."
Walburga put her cup back down on its saucer. "Lucius and Narcissa know- they were here when we found he was gone. I'm sure that Narcissa has told Bellatrix as well. And…" Walburga trailed off. "So- so they have likely been keeping an eye out too, although we did ask to keep knowledge within the family."
"It's only that- now it has been days, and nothing has changed. So, we figure as his friends"—Orion gestured towards them—"you may know something or be able to help look for him. We know he doesn't tell us everything, so perhaps you can bring a different perspective to this." He cleared his throat. "Of course- if you don't feel up to it, we understand. We—"
"No," Barty blurted. Evan glared at him, but he just shook his head. "Of course we'll help. We'll do anything to help. It's Regulus."
Walburga blinked, and then slumped slightly, putting a hand over her mouth. "I'm so glad my boy has friends like you two," she murmured, eyes wet. She cleared her throat as her husband handed her a handkerchief. "Apologies, it's been a difficult few days," she said as she wiped at her eyes.
"You don't need to apologize, ma'am. It's completely understandable," Evan said, voice soft. He had been glaring at Barty just seconds ago. Genteel freak.
"If you two want to look around upstairs, you can go ahead," Orion offered. "Just- try not to move things around in his room too much."
"Yeah." Evan stood up and brushed at his pants. "Thank you for the tea." Barty's tea idled at the same level at which it had begun. He glanced at the dishes on the coffee table in front of where Evan was sitting; Evan's cup was maybe half-empty, and on a little plate lay a scone, abandoned with no more than two bites taken out of it.
Barty just followed Evan into standing. "Mm. Right, thank you," he copied. If Regulus' parents noticed how they barely touched the tea, they didn't care enough to say anything.
They passed Kreacher as they left the drawing room, and then Evan's hand was grabbing Barty's wrist. In silence, Evan led him through the house—he was much more familiar with the layout—until they were far enough for sound not to travel.
"You need to work on your manners," Evan said, not even looking back at him to say it.
Barty's lip twitched. "How could that possibly be the first thing you think to say right now?"
"It's just true, Barty," Evan sighed as they reached the stairs. The two of them passed the wall of mounted house elf heads and Barty shivered. The image of Kreacher, or- oh Merlin, of Winky being displayed like that pounded through his head.
"I love this place, but that still freaks me out," he murmured, ducking to avert his gaze.
Evan just continued straight ahead. "Yeah, I know, it's kinda weird."
Barty would have said more, but the weight of that conversation finally set in. Regulus was missing. He'd been missing. For days. Barty should have known. How did Barty not know?
He hadn't seen Regulus in almost a week. He hadn't even gotten an owl. Dorcas had called him "clingy" before, but clearly he wasn't clingy enough. If he had been paying better attention, he would have noticed sooner. Tuesday. Since Tuesday. None of them had tried to see Regulus since Tuesday? Evan hadn't known. How was that possible?
"Barty," Evan said, snapping him out of his head. They stood on the landing of the third floor now, just one staircase away from Regulus' room. Barty looked around at the floors, at the banisters, at the wallpaper, all perfect and just as it was supposed to be. Was that right? Was that possible? "Barty," Evan repeated, the space between his eyebrows scrunched up. "Get out of your head. It's hard to talk to you when you aren't listening."
"Okay- okay," Barty huffed. Evan squeezed his hand, which he was still holding. "What were you saying?"
"I was just saying that you need to focus. I can tell none of what's going on up there is productive," Evan said. Barty would have been upset at how gently Evan was speaking to him if he wasn't certain that any sharpness would have him crumbling. "You heard them. Regulus is missing. This is real and we don't have time to spiral."
Sometimes Barty hated Evan. Evan and his sweeping blond hair, his skin just tanned enough to look alive but still pale enough to be fair, his subtlety, his pride. He smiled at Barty, lips curled in faultless symmetry, just natural enough to be kind and just haunting enough to be a Rosier. "Okay," fell out of Barty's mouth. He understood why Regulus liked Evan so much. He was perfect.
Evan turned and the two of them started up that final set of stairs, hand in hand. And then Barty froze on a middle step, slowing Evan to a halt. "But—" Evan turned to him, eyes narrowed. Barty hated when he did that, but he continued anyway, "Just- what if he doesn't want to be found?"
For a moment, Evan stopped. His eyes drifted just an inch off from Barty's head. Barty watched as he turned the idea over in his mind, held the weight of it in his hands. And then his eyes met Barty's again and it was over. "It's not that easy because we don't know that. What if he does want to be found and we don't find him because we assumed?"
"What if we find him and he's pissed at us because we misunderstood?"
"I'd rather have him pissed than dead," Evan snapped. Barty took a sharp inhale of breath and his lip twitched. Evan shook his head. "Sorry."
Barty shrugged. "I mean- I still feel like we should consider that he might have run away." Evan adjusted his grip on Barty's hand and continued leading him up the stairs.
"Barty, come on. Use that brilliant mind of yours for once," Evan said, tapping his temple. "Regulus? He wouldn't do that. I don't think I've ever seen him actually run in his life. He kind of just… saunters." He gesticulated as he spoke, free hand waving around in the air.
"We can't rule it out just because we think it's unlikely." They reached the fourth floor, the least crowded of them all. They only had two ways to turn: towards Sirius' door or towards Regulus'.
"Listen- I'm not just trying to be contradictory. Him running away is obviously the best case scenario here." Evan pulled them in the direction of Regulus' room and stopped once they were in front of the door to regard Barty. "I just- I want you to be prepared in case it's something worse."
Barty stared at the sign hanging from the wood. Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black, it read, in the boy's flourishing scrawl. Barty sighed. Sorry, Regulus Arcturus Black.
"Whatever. It's fine," Barty said, and then Evan turned the brass doorknob and pushed open the door.
Barty had been in Regulus' room a million times before. The strangest thing about it now was that… it didn't feel strange at all. It was Regulus' room, as lovely as it always had been. It smelled like him. Barty felt like it should hurt to be here when Regulus wasn't. But it didn't hurt. Nothing felt wrong at all. He wanted to tear his hair out. He wanted it to feel wrong.
The room taunted him with its normalcy. The bed was made, sheets tucked under the mattress and pillows arranged in that particular order that Regulus always preferred. His shelves were stacked with books and Quidditch trinkets. The light from the window hit a Golden Snitch and reflected off of it, seen in a spot of light on the opposite wall. Evan stepped inside first and Barty followed. The surface of Regulus' desk was cleared, with stationary set carefully on the edges. All of his lamps were off and no candles were lit.
"Everything looks… fine," Barty said, spinning around to face Evan. His hands fluttered at his sides, wanting to touch things, move them around, but he couldn't. Regulus would be so mad at him once he found out.
Evan crossed his arms and inspected the bed. "Yeah…" He knelt down and looked under the bed. Barty supposed he didn't find anything of note because he stood up again without any remark about it. "That's a good sign, I think."
"Is it?" Barty questioned, stepping away from the desk. Stuck to the wall with pins and tape and magical adhesive were dozens of newspaper clippings surrounding the Dark Lord, He Who Must Not Be Named, You Know Who. Barty glanced at the headlines only briefly, watching the photos in motion. "It's… too normal, almost." His eye twitched. "What can we actually get from any of this?" Barty asked, gesturing to the whole of the room.
"That maybe you were right. Maybe he did just… run away," Evan suggested, though he sounded hesitant. No signs of struggle, nothing out of place. Everything was exactly where it was meant to be.
Barty wrapped his arms around himself like a hug. "You think?"
"I think it's… a… possibility…" Evan trailed off. Barty ticked his head to the side. Now standing by a bookshelf, Evan's attention was back on the bed area. Barty followed his gaze to the nightstand where Regulus' wand sat. Where… his wand sat, discarded, idle and alone.
Barty's brow furrowed. "What?" he breathed. He shook his head. "Why would--? That—" He blinked, over and over again, like it would go away if he willed it to.
"Never mind," Evan said, voice dropping. "I don't think he ran away."
Barty's eye twitched and he straightened up a little. "Hey! That's- okay. I think that while we investigate, we should just look at things objectively. No theorizing while looking at evidence without full context."
"I don't know if we're going to get full context, Barty."
"Just-! We shouldn't jump to conclusions, right? Let's take it slow. Let's observe and then we can think on it later."
Evan mumbled something to himself and Barty twitched. "What was that?"
"Nothing. You're right." Evan glanced around the room before sighing. "We should get out of this room. We can come back later."
"Okay. Yeah, whatever you need," Barty relented, a sudden exhaustion mingling with his nerves. Evan ushered him out of the room and stayed behind for just a moment before following. The door shut with a click.
In the quiet of the hallway, the dust settled on the banisters and windowsills. In the air, particles sparkled in the light coming through the glass. Barty watched as Evan crossed the landing—glitter spilled back, displaced—towards Sirius' room. He tensed.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
Evan was facing away from him, but he figured that he was rolling his eyes. "His room could have evidence. We shouldn't skip out on it."
Barty felt like if Regulus knew they were doing any of this shit, he'd get so pissed that he would refuse to talk to them for far too many days. He'd shut off from the world and he'd cry and he'd punch his mattress. Barty knew these things. That's what Regulus would do.
Evan turned around and glared at him, the corners of his lips tipped down and the space between his brow in knots. "Regulus isn't here. Come on." He turned back around and opened the door to a place he couldn't come back from before Barty even had the chance to respond. Barty sputtered, stepping forward, reaching out as if to stop him, but it was already done.
The light from within Sirius' room spilled out into the hallway like the light of an explosion. Red and warmth and banners and glistened in hot sparks. Enemy territory lay ahead, do not enter.
Despite how confident he had been getting them in there, Evan froze after a single step into the room. From behind, Barty placed his chin on Evan's shoulder, eyeing his expression from below. "Cold feet?"
Evan shook his head and pushed Barty off of him. "Shut up. I'm fine." He walked into the middle of the room, standing on a maroon and gold rug. The color palette of the decorations was nearly opposite to those in Regulus' room. What really stood out though was all of the muggle shit that Sirius collected.
Posters of movie stars and rock bands covered the walls. A record player sat on the dresser, next to a piggy bank and a framed picture of James Potter making a kissy face at the camera. Barty grimaced and looked away before he could see the photo move. On the floor next to the dresser resided a crate of vinyls with bright-colored jackets.
"Regulus wouldn't want us in here," Barty stated, crossing his arms to force his hands into complacency. He watched as Evan gave the stink-eye to muggle pens and muggle clothes littered on the desk and desk chair respectively.
"Ugh, okay. I don't think there's anything useful in here anyway," Evan relented.
Leaving the fourth floor, Barty jumped out of his skin, startled by the sight of Kreacher lurking near a window. He nearly fell off the last step of the stairs. Would've been embarrassing. "Holy—"
Kreacher stood glued to the wall, having been eyeing them as they moved about the house. Evan put a steadying hand on Barty's shoulder and stepped around him.
"Do you know what happened, Kreacher?" he asked, direct but not unkind.
The house elf's face twisted, as if he was tasting something sour, and he turned away.
Evan's eyebrows raised briefly. "O-kay," he enunciated. "Ballsy."
"He's probably just worried," Barty figured, spinning his ring on his finger. Regulus was never shy about how much Kreacher meant to him. He was a little embarrassed to admit that Kreacher was almost paternal to him, but he did eventually tell Evan and Barty. They both knew the nature of their relationship, even if Evan didn't quite understand. Barty did.
The two of them searched the rest of the house halfheartedly, merely glancing into some rooms before moving on. Keeping an eye out for anything out of place, they found nothing but luminous decorative chalices and clean floors. Eventually, their search turned into one for either Walburga or Orion so that they could say their goodbyes and leave.
"We should make missing posters," Evan said, stopping abruptly. Barty nearly ran into him.
"You think?"
"If his parents are okay with it, we should. Right? So that our side knows and the other side knows that we know."
"You're right. Good idea."
They found their way back to the drawing room. Peeking inside over Evan's shoulder, Barty caught a glimpse of Mrs. Black staring at a wall. Well, no, not a wall. Taking a step to the side, Barty could see the colors of the Black Family Tapestry, their bloodline branching out like veins over wallpaper.
Walburga sat on an ottoman she must have hefted over to its current position. Her shoulders pulled forward, making her slump in a way Barty had never seen or imagined from her before. Her elbows perched on her thighs and she rested her chin on one hand while the other massaged her temple. Like a ticking clock, marching ever-forward, she stared straight on. Barty always considered Walburga Black to be a dignified woman, one of immense grace and elegance and posture in such a way that could not be penetrated. Clearly he was… assuming. The sunlight from an open window hit her face and reflected off of her pale complexion. Like a ghost, or a sickly Victorian lady, she glistened with sweat, little color on her cheeks. Her leg bounced restlessly under her skirt.
Evan turned on his heel and pushed Barty away from the drawing room. Best not to disturb her, said the silent look that Evan gave him.
They ran into Mr. Black in his study. Orion sat quietly at his desk, looming over papers with an exhaustion hanging over him so heavy that the room could have fallen to the ground floor. Evan cleared his throat and Orion's head snapped up.
He sighed. "Oh, boys. I didn't see you there." He stood up and moved in front of his desk.
"We were just about to leave," Evan explained. "Just wanted to let you know."
"Oh, yes, of course. Kreacher!" he called, snapping his fingers. Kreacher apparated into the room. "Kreacher, escort these boys out, will you?" Turning back to Evan and Barty, he said, "Thank you both for coming. Do try to keep good spirits despite the sad news."
Kreacher took a step towards them to lead them out. "Mr. Black-!" Barty blurted. Evan took a long, disappointed blink. "Sorry- we were thinking that if you and your wife were okay with going public, we could put up missing posters?" he proposed.
Orion tilted his head. A minuscule hint of a smile grew on his face. "That's a good idea, Junior. We were, in fact, considering putting some out ourselves but- well, we wanted to wait a little longer." He joined his hands in front of him and looked down at them briefly. "You two were the first we wanted to let know. Now that you do—" he cleared his throat. "That would be wonderful."
Barty ducked his head. "Ahah- okay, cool. I mean, good."
"Yes, thank you, Mr. Black. We just want to help as much as we can," Evan said, trying to repair Barty's poor conversation skills.
"We really appreciate all the help, boys. Thank you." Orion crossed the room and put a hand on each of their shoulders. Barty felt his face warm. What was happening. What was this. What.
Then Orion stepped back and sat back down, and Evan was saying their goodbyes on Barty's wordless behalf, and Kreacher was leading them out of the house and Barty was confused. Evan snapped in his face and he jumped.
"Wake up, space boy. Posters."
They went back to Barty's house to make the posters. His father was out working—like always—so Crouch Manor was theirs for the taking. Barty kissed his mother on the cheek on the way in. Evan dipped his head respectfully; he had visited the house a few times before, so Barty's mom was familiar with his face.
Winky fetched them some water and then helped them with the actual production of the posters. Stacks of parchment piled up, all with the same morbid print, same moving photo of Regulus. Missing, said the papers, Last seen Monday night. The posters spouted blatant evidence of Barty's failure. How did he not know earlier?
It was dark out by the time the posters were ready to be put up. Barty complained and whined but Evan knew that they both wanted to do this sooner than later, so they grabbed some coats and went out anyway.
Barty kicked the ground and dragged his feet as the two of them walked down the pavement. He had a stack of papers tucked under his arm, the same as Evan. Every few blocks, they'd adhere a poster to a streetlamp and then continue along in silence. Barty wished that they had something fun to talk about, but they didn't. The only thing they could possibly talk about was this.
Spending an entire afternoon with Evan would normally be fun, relaxing even, but this was just terribly, dreadfully different. Their typical banter got stale after a few hours. Usually, these periods of isolation, just the two of them, wouldn't last this long. Pandora would appear and ruin their day with some experimental spell, or Dorcas would come and laugh at their outfits, or Regulus would sit down between them and stay. He'd stay and center them, and the scales would be balanced, and the crashing waves of the sea would settle, and the moon would rise.
Barty stared at the pavement, and at homes he found ugly, and at the insides of his eyelids. He closed his eyes and imagined he was asleep. Of course he was asleep. This was just a dream.
The stars scoffed, unblinking in the night sky. Their eyes pierced his back, the top of his head, his neck. They knew what was wrong with this picture. They wanted to tell him, but God, Barty did not want to hear it.
"What are you doing."
Barty's eyes opened as he startled. Evan jumped, whirling around to the sight of Sirius Black. Barty's hand flew to the pocket on his hip holding his wand. The rapidly forming strategic predictions in Barty's head of how this encounter might play out were stunted as Evan put a hand on his arm, keeping him from actually drawing his wand.
A pair of rabbits ran past them in the bushes. Barty twitched. It felt like a taunt. Look! the bunnies squeaked. The world goes on. The poster Evan had just attached to the light post mocked Barty, wearing Regulus' face as if it had the right.
Sirius. Barty had the same issue with Sirius. His eyes, his nose, the curve of his lips, the tilt of his chin—he'd seen it all before. He had studied these features on a more beautiful face. On Sirius, they were all rearranged, out of place, creating a new image that could be seen as attractive if someone did not know any better. Like a lousy adaptation of a novel into a stage play. The sight of the man disturbed something inside Barty, and his fingers twitched at his side. He wished to close his eyes.
Evan's expression twisted into a graceful frown, gaze heavy and pinned on Sirius. "Your brother is missing, if you care," Evan stated, standing up to his full height and looking Sirius up and down. His voice did not waver, did not snap or bite. Still, Sirius flinched like he had been hit. "We're putting up posters for him."
"I know that," Sirius spat, body stiff with tension. His arms waved around like he didn't know what to do with them before crossing against his chest. "Of course I care! Piss off."
Barty's eyebrows drew together. "You know?"
Sirius scoffed. "I don't- ugh. I'm not doing this. Never mind. Do what you bloody want," he huffed, mumbling at the end before passing by them and disappearing.
Evan groaned. "We don't fucking care!" he called, sounding perfectly unbothered while also glaring at Sirius' back, eyes full of contempt.
Barty shivered. The heat of summer had dissolved into a wet chill. He glanced at Evan and then had to look away, because Regulus was staring back at him from the poster. The sidewalk was much more interesting, with stray, sharp rocks and seams in the concrete. Regulus never walked on the cracks, even though he claimed that he wasn't superstitious, and that it was silly to be. Barty knew Regulus. He never wanted to take the risk.
"Are you cold?" Evan asked. Barty looked up again, finding Evan to have moved a few steps to the side, meaning Regulus wasn't lurking behind him anymore. Evan tilted his chin up, eyed the night sky which Barty had been trying so hard to avoid. "It's late. I think we've done enough for tonight."
Barty nodded and wrapped his coat further around himself, crossing his arms to keep the warmth in. "Okay."
Evan squinted, looking him up and down. "Are you okay to apparate home?" Barty blinked, and then found himself speaking before he could really think about it.
"Do you mind if we walk?" he asked, and then panicked. "I mean- it's just a nice day out, and—"
"It's nighttime," Evan stated, deadpan. He shook his head. "You don't want to go home yet, I get it. Yeah, I can walk you home."
Barty smiled awkwardly. He was too tired for this. "Thanks." Barty stuck his hands in his pockets and they started in the direction of Crouch Manor. Evan started to blabber on about something that didn't matter—some novel he read? Barty wasn't really paying attention, but he let Evan's voice fill the space in his head. Bushes rustling with wildlife, Evan's commentary on something Barty didn't care about, the smell of moisture on stone. The stars above, sighing down at him.
As they approached the house, its shadow beaming down on them, Evan stopped. "Hey, if he's ever giving you trouble, you know you can come to my place, right? Like- you have more friends than just Regulus." Barty could find no mockery or jest in his expression, in the way his weight was shifted, in the position of his arms.
He blinked before a smile grew on his face. "Oh, you do like me," Barty boasted. Evan scoffed and rolled his eyes.
"I'm being serious, Barty," Evan said, furrowing his brow. Barty sighed and his smile softened.
"Yeah, I know. I know." He looked down at the sidewalk and rolled a pebble under the toe of his shoe. "My dad didn't actually send me on an errand," he confessed. "I was just- walking. I walked there." It wasn't as embarrassing as he thought it might be to admit that.
Evan tilted his head and screwed up his face. Barty huffed a small laugh, face twitching. "You walked? Why'd you do that?"
Barty shrugged. "I don't know."
Evan shook his head and scoffed. "I mean, okay? If you're all into walking now, I guess that's not my problem. Just stay safe, yeah?" He took a step back, ready to leave.
"Yes, I know, mother," Barty replied. A cricket chirped somewhere. "Goodnight, Evan."
"Goodnight, Barty." And he was gone.
November, 1969
“Sirius?”
Sirius startled, slamming his journal face down on his mattress and snapping his head towards the door. Framed by the doorway, Regulus stood like a phantom in silhouette. Sirius sighed, placing a chest to his racing heart.
“Oh. Ah- Reg," Sirius greeted, voice hushed in the quiet of the night. He tucked his diary under his pillow. "How long have you been there?" he muttered to himself before clearing his throat. "What’s wrong?”
His little brother shifted on his feet, wringing the edge of his sleep shirt in his hands. He shrugged, staring at the ground. “I’m scared,” he murmured, like it was embarrassing.
Sirius just tilted his head, beckoning Regulus further into the room. “Of what?” he asked.
“I couldn’t hear anyone. I don’t know," Regulus mumbled, closing the door behind him, careful not to make a noise. The sliver of light from the sconces in the hallway thinned until the room was cast into cool darkness. Only the stars, dots sparkling in the navy sky, lit up the space through Sirius' open window. Regulus padded over with socked feet. "I thought I was alone.”
Sirius shook his head. “Reggie, you will never be alone.”
Regulus sniffled. “That’s not true.”
Sirius smiled, pulling Regulus up onto his bed. Sirius pulled his duvet up over Regulus’ lap. His little brother’s knees rested on Sirius’ thighs and his head fell forward onto his chest. Sirius placed his chin onto Regulus’ head. “It is.” He took Regulus’ hand in his own, and pressed his thumb to Regulus’ wrist. “You’re a Black. You’ve got this whole family in your blood. And your last name. You’ve always got me in your last name. We will share that forever.”
“Yeah?” Regulus pressed closer against Sirius' front. Sirius wrapped his arms around his brother and held him tight.
“Yeah," he said, as if he wasn't improvising with each word. "You’ll never be alone. When you feel alone, just think of your heart, pumping the same blood that my heart is." Sirius took Regulus' hand and put it over his chest, his heart beating under his brother's little palm. "And think of your name, which is one third the same as mine.”
A moment passed and Regulus thought about Sirius' words. "Oh," Regulus said, like what his brother had said made perfect sense, and Regulus was just a little foolish for not already knowing it. He shuffled until he was lying down, his head rested on one of Sirius' silk pillowcases. “Can I sleep here?”
“Yeah." Sirius similarly scooted down until he was lying on his back, face turned to look at his brother—that precious little boy. His hair swooped like Sirius' did, and his eyes sparkled the same marble gray. Every time Sirius smiled, Regulus copied. His heart pumped the same blood. His name shared the last five letters. "Yeah, of course. Anytime.”
Regulus curled up and drifted off not long after. Sirius lay there for a while, watching the rise and fall of the boy's breathing.
"I will never be far," he whispered. Regulus did not stir. Intentionally. Sirius did not know, but he was only pretending to be asleep. Sirius pressed a little kiss into Regulus' hair. "I promise—I will always be here."
Regulus, with a heart full of blind faith, believed him.