it's regulus/barty if you squint real hard

for quidditch league, round 3, tutshill tornados captain - use pulp fiction as inspiration (i specifically used the diner scene between jules and vincent)

thanks to sienna, ana, vic, and audrey for betaing! love you all

1381 words, by google docs

Adrenaline is coursing through Regulus' body. This is it: his first mission.

Caradoc Dearborn. The name has been running through Regulus' head over and over again for the past half hour. That's who he has to question.

Well, not just him; Barty's by his side. Barty's always by his side.

"Ready?" Barty asks, by his side. Regulus looks at him, then looks back up at the apartment door they're in front of. Caradoc Dearborn's apartment door.

"Ready," he says, gripping his wand in his pocket.

With a simple tap of Barty's wand, the door opens, with a tiny creak. Regulus tenses, because surely that's given them away, but no one's in the entrance hall when they enter. There's no alarm system, either, which takes Regulus by surprise: isn't every Order member on guard at all times?

"Kitchen," Regulus mouths to Barty, looking away. They came during dinnertime, hoping that Dearborn will let his guard down, just a little bit.

They tiptoe through the apartment, coming upon a small table with a figure hunched over it. Regulus grins at Barty; this is far easier than expected.

Barty raises his wand, prepared to bind the man, but before he can cast anything, the figure whips around, shooting a red spell that misses Regulus' face by millimeters.

Regulus whips his wand out now, pointing it at the man. This must be Dearborn.

"You're teenagers," Dearborn notes. He's holding his wand at them, but he looks slightly uncertain. Regulus just stands up straighter.

"Dearborn," Barty says, lifting his chin up. Regulus flicks his eyes over, trying to read Barty's expression. What's their play here?

"I'm not going to attack kids," Dearborn says, frowning at them. "You shouldn't be involved."

"But we are," Regulus says, trying not to smirk as Dearborn lowers his wand.

Barty is the one to take action, shooting a nonverbal spell at Dearborn. Ropes are conjured, but Dearborn steps aside before they can wrap him up and they fall to the floor limply.

Dearborn raises his wand again.

Another spell flies past Regulus' face, green this time. Green…

Regulus' heart beats a little bit faster. Blood is pounding in his ears.

"Crucio!" Regulus hears Barty yell.

To Regulus' surprise — and Dearborn's as well, judging by the expression on his face — the spell hits. It's not particularly strong, but it still makes Dearborn fall to the floor, letting out a gasp of pain. Regulus looks over at Barty, and he thinks that he sees a moment of hesitation on Barty's face, but it's quickly replaced by a smirk.

Barty releases the spell and Dearborn gasps for air; even a small Cruciatus must hurt.

"You're going to tell us names, Dearborn," Barty orders, standing tall. Regulus tries to swallow his fear — his friend just used an Unforgivable — and straightens his back, gripping his wand a bit tighter.

Dearborn looks at the ground for a few moments before looking up, his mouth slightly open. A defeated expression falls over his face, and at that, triumph courses through Regulus' veins..

"So we're going to that," Dearborn says, standing up and shooting another curse.

The triumph disappears as Regulus dodges it, shooting a silent Stupefy at Dearborn. It misses, but Regulus doesn't back down.

The three of them circle around the small room, spells firing everywhere. Dearborn has to focus on both Regulus and Barty, but everything seems to miss him.

Everything seems to miss Regulus and Barty, too, though. Regulus is fine with it staying like that.

Except then there's a curse heading straight towards Regulus, and everything goes into slow-motion.

It's another green spell.

Regulus could die right now. He's not ready to die.

Regulus is able to gather himself, though, and ducks before the curse makes its mark.

From the floor, Regulus can see it bounce off of a mirror and hit Dearborn squarely in the chest. Regulus dares to straighten up and Dearborn's slumped on the ground.

Everything is silent.

…

Regulus is a little shaken up. Well, more than a little. He doesn't even know where his legs are leading him until he winds up in front of a Muggle diner. Through the window, it looks welcoming, with little cozy chairs set up around tables, and rows of booths at the back.

"Really?" Barty asks, raising an eyebrow at Regulus.

Regulus lets out a little chuckle, trying to stay calm. Barty looks completely fine, which strikes Regulus as slightly odd, considering they almost died a few minutes ago.

"Do you want to go in?" Regulus asks, looking at Barty. He's desperate to sit down for a bit, maybe drink some coffee. Maybe Barty sees that in Regulus' eyes or maybe he feels that himself. Either way, he follows Regulus into the shop and slides into a booth, sitting across from Regulus.

They order two coffees, and as they wait for them to come, Regulus tries to collect his thoughts.

Who knew there would be such a fight?

Regulus is rattled — and scared. He's pretty sure they only got away because some god above took mercy on them.

If he's being honest, Regulus doesn't want to gamble his life on a god who might want to save him.

He doesn't want to put his life in danger anymore. What it is even for?

"I don't want to be a Death Eater," Regulus says as the waiter brings them their coffee.

He takes a long drink from his cup, keeping his eyes on Barty. It is good coffee, but Regulus is more focused on how hard his heart is beating.

Barty looks over Regulus' face, his brown eyes staring deeply into Regulus, as if trying to see into him.

"So what are you going to be?" Barty asks finally, after Regulus has already drained half of his coffee.

It's a fair question. Regulus was raised almost as if his entire life led up to being a Death Eater. If he's not a Death Eater, then what is he? He wonders what Barty's options in life were before he became a Death Eater — he was definitely raised far differently. Maybe he could be one of those options.

Except Regulus knows better than to ask Barty about his childhood and about his father. He'll shut down. He always does.

"Just… Regulus," Regulus replies finally. He downs the last of his coffee, keeping his eyes on the boy across from him.

"Just Regulus," Barty repeats, his lip curling. He sounds unimpressed. "Look, you're not going to have anything. Look at Sirius. He rejected this and he was disowned. Do you want that?"

"No," Regulus admits. He wants there to be some way he can have both: safety in his life and safety in his family status.

Barty lets out a long sigh before asking, "When did you make this decision? Just now?"

"Yeah," Regulus replies, staring into the dregs of his coffee. "I had" — he pauses, trying to conjure up the right phrase — "a moment of clarity."

"A moment of clarity?" Barty repeats, one eyebrow raised.

Regulus wishes he didn't have that expression — the expression that makes Regulus feels as if his feelings are wrong. He's not sure about a lot of things, but this? He can't keep on doing this anymore. He knows that.

Barty purses his lips and there's a silent moment before he stands up.

"I'm going to the bathroom, but this isn't finished, Reg," he says, giving Regulus a hard look. "You're making a mistake. You can't just give this up."

Regulus just raises his eyebrows in response and leans back into his seat as Barty walks away, looking around at the Muggle diner they've taken refuge in.

He knows that Barty means well for him. He knows that Barty cares about him and doesn't want to see him make the wrong decision, but still.

Regulus can still feel the spells shooting across the air, mere inches from his face. He can still remember the orders he got from the Dark Lord, sending him and Barty into a mission they could have died from. He's too young to die.

Honestly, Regulus doesn't think he'll change his mind. This is something he's set on.

He just doesn't know how he's going to go about this.