Where did he go?
A/N: I do not own anything from the world of Harry Potter, nor will I profit from this story.
This fic was written for The Battle Field Wars forum competition run by Screaming Faeries. I am Cadet #2 on the team 'After all this time- always' and this is my entry for round one. Our headlining character is Regulus Black and the character I am to pair him with (romantically or platonically) is Remus Lupin. My position prompts are:
Quote: "Some people say I'm not pretty, but I'm beautiful on the inside."- Anne Ramsey (please note I have had to cut up this quote because the inclusion of 'but' interferes with my third prompt)
Colour: Mint
Restriction: no word 'but'
A big thank you to NightmarePrince for taking a squiz at this before I posted. I have made changes to the ending as suggested, however I'm not too sure I've pulled it off. Actually, I know I haven't... it's pretty crap. Really crap. Nevertheless, here it is.
Word count: 2859 words
The thudding of the heavy wooden door echoed throughout the still street, a mix of sleet and icy rain soaking the fine brown hair of the noisy perpetrator. Bouncing from toe to toe, he puffed air into his knitted gloves in the vain hope that he could bring his fingers from the brink of numbness.
"Come on, come on! Where are you?"
A Muggle woman popped her head out of a window pane a few houses away, curiously looking to see what all the fuss was about. He held his breath, hoping she would not see the wand held down by his side. If push came to shove, he would use magic to unlock the door or, if necessary, blast down the wretched door. However, upon spotting the tattered old grey coat he wore, her lips pursed in disapproval and she soon disappeared behind lacy white curtains, the window slamming shut in her wake. Good riddance.
He began to bang again on the door, hoping to raise its occupant from sleep. It was four in the afternoon, yet he didn't have any doubt whatsoever that Sirius would not be awake- the man was probably nursing a hangover or had just gotten in. If it was any other day he wouldn't have minded; in fact, he would have liked more than anything to curl up by the fire and take a nap, the full moon from the night before taking its toll on him. However, more pressing business required that he fetch his mate and meet at the latest Order refuge to discuss new information Dumbledore had received. It was because Sirius had not answered any of his patronus or Floo calls that he was now pounding on the door, risking breaking an ankle or arm as he balanced precariously on the slippery doorstep.
"Padfoot, if you don't get up and answer this damn door right now I will-" he faltered for a moment, trying to come up with a threat that would work and failing miserably, "well, I'll do something. Just open up will you?"
In frustration, he kicked the door, only to wince instead as pain seared up his frozen toes underneath his thin vinyl boots. His yelp echoed throughout the street, and though his eyes were watering slightly, he could've sworn that he saw the same neighbour's curtain whip back into place.
"Right, I'm coming in."
Grasping the brass door handle, he twisted it, almost falling through as the door instantly gave way beneath his weight. He had not expected it to have been unlocked and grumbled about Sirius' lack of security. Turning around, he shot a quick locking spell at it, smiling as he heard the satisfactory 'click'. His hands then trailed across the wall, searching for a switch, before the hallway was bathed in light.
"Padfoot?"
Waiting for the loud 'thunk' that would signal that his friend had finally rolled off the bed into consciousness, he began to amuse himself with looking over the room's interesting décor. It was a small house, really, built during the Muggle's Great War to house soldiers closer to London. Curved lamps hung in intervals on the wall and a stretch of pale yellow and red carpet ran the short hallway leading up to the bedroom. A small corner table was pushed up against one wall, an old golden record player left untouched on its dusty surface.
It was the large gash of wallpaper, however, that made his heart begin to hammer wildly in his chest. He had only noticed it as he studied the cobwebbed music machine, wondering whether he could manage to get the contraption to work at a later date and his eyes were drawn just above it. The crimson paper that had been plastered neatly along the wall had been torn across almost half a meter in length and hung limply in shreds. He could make out a few indents from nails, though it was unclear in the dim light if they were human or animal made. His blood ran cold at the sight, and he tightly gripped onto his wand.
Ordinarily, he did not expect Sirius to really care for his temporary abode- more often than he would find traces of the boy's existence in the piles of dirty laundry left throughout the hallway and in the living room. Even now the foul scent of dirty socks assaulted his nose as his keen sense of smell caught a whiff of the offending objects lying in the doorway. However, he could not see his friend damaging the borrowed house to that extent.
Creeping forward and wincing slightly as the floorboards creaked beneath his feet, he called softly. "Padfoot, are you here?"
His ears strained for any sign of an answer; his heart continuing to thrum as though threatening to burst from his chest. He wracked his brain for any possible explanations that didn't involve Death Eaters and berated himself for not checking for any signs of the Dark Mark above the house before entering. The eerie silence of the house continued to close in, almost as if it was intent on crushing him.
"Dammit!"
The sound of a bottle smashing against the living room floor, followed by a muttered curse, startled him so much so that if wizards had a competition for who could jump the highest, he would have won it instantly. Rubbing his head in the spot where he had hit it on the low ceiling, he carefully slunk into the room to the right. His breathing came in shallow gasps, and he swallowed nervously. The voice had sounded almost like Sirius, yet something was slightly off about it.
Bracing himself to confront whoever he was, he burst into the room.
"Expelliarmus!"
"Watch it!"
The jet of scarlet light briefly illuminated the room and he could just make out a dark figure ducking closer to the carpet. Reaching to the side and flipping the light switch on, he pointed his wand at the man.
"Who are you?"
"You coulda killed me."
The wizard on the floor was hunched over, his hands scrubbing furiously at the white carpet now stained with brown liquid. His body rattled every few seconds from loud hiccoughs. Remus cautiously moved closer to the man, gasping softly as he recognised the normally neat dark hair now slicked to his sweaty forehead.
"Regulus?"
"I dinn't do nuthin' a'right? Stupid Muggles can clean this," the man chucked his wand aside, white sparks shooting out of the tip usually as he tried to cast a cleaning charm.
His steely grey eyes were unfocused, tears swimming in them. His black-as-midnight velvet robes were torn in places and the left sleeve was pushed up to reveal an infamous tattoo of emerald ink. Lying at his feet was a broken bottle of Firewhiskey, only a drip of amber near the rim.
He was nothing like the young boy Remus had tried to look out for during his years at Hogwarts. He felt his heart clench painfully, panging for the carefree and happy youth. He yearned for the way his eyes would be sharp as he smirked at his brother's antics- the way only he could see the mirth hidden beneath their stormy depths. He wanted to hear the boy laugh, for his skin to be clear and unclaimed. He certainly did not want to talk with this mess before him.
Striding across the room, he bent down to open the small wooden cabinet placed against the far wall. The glass-panelled doors squeaked in protest as he prised them open, the strain on the hinges evident from the cupboard's constant use. His eyes scanned over the bottles of various shapes, colours and sizes, finally lying on a small vial amongst the liquor. Pulling it out and dusting off the cork stopper, he leant back and stood up, carefully shutting the door once more.
Regulus was now sitting cross-legged on the stained carpet, rocking back and forth slowly as he sobbed.
"He made six- six of 'em, the bastard. I'll kill him I will- I-" the words that escaped his thin lips amongst the continuous hiccoughs were barely coherent. "Those poor kids, I-"
"Shh. Drink this."
Remus thrust the bottle under the man's nose as the mint liquid sloshed around the container. It was a special potion he had bought for Sirius for his hangovers, designed specifically to sober up any intoxicated witch or wizard. The concoction also came in two lighter strengths, both different hues of blue in colour, yet he wasn't sure either would work on Regulus' sordid state.
"Nah, nah- no, I gotta get to the cave now," nonsense continued to spill from the man's mouth as he pushed the bottle away, "gots to find it."
He didn't bother hiding his sigh of frustration as he grabbed him by the chin. Prying open his chiselled jaw forcefully, he tipped the contents down Regulus' throat and clamped his hands over his mouth until he was sure he swallowed. As he did so, he noticed how scared Regulus looked; his pupils were dilated and his eyes darted back and forth.
"I need to tell him…" his speech was muffled and hard to make out, yet Remus did not let go until the bottle was empty and the man blinked slowly.
When a sneer soon made its way to his face, he pulled them both up and shoved him onto the stiff longue. Training his wand on him, he commanded his voice to stay strong as he questioned him- brother of his best friend or not, the man was still a known follower of You-Know-Who.
"Where is he?"
"Where is who?"
"You know who I mean."
"The Dark Lord?"
"Your brother."
"I have no brother."
"Sirius!"
"I'm Regulus, not Sirius," Regulus replied as continued to smirk and folded his arms tight across his chest.
His drunken slur was no longer evident, replaced by his usual refined, albeit annoying, confident way of speaking. Remus felt the overwhelming need to shake some sense into him, to shake out the answers he needed.
Leaning forwards, Regulus locked eyes on him. "I came to see Sirius, if you must know. There is something I need to tell him."
"Like?"
"Something important," he turned away, idly plucking at a stray thread that had come loose on the lounge.
"Who else is here?"
Regulus simply shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, causing Remus to reach up a hand and tug at a brown lock in frustration. He needed answers and he wanted them now.
"Where are the others? Did you bring mates with you? How many? What are you planning?" he fired away each question, feeling precious time tick away.
By now, Regulus had stopped answering altogether as he continued to play with the lounge seams. His eyes appeared to be glazed over and a thoughtful frown now marred his striking features.
"Look at me! Where. Is. Sirius?"
"Funny isn't it, how things turn out the way you don't expect? How people you thought you could trust turn out to be strangers, and people you thought were nothing more than filthy traitors are the only ones you can turn to?" he seemed to be talking to the roof rather than Remus. "I wonder what they will say when they realise what I've done."
"Who are you talking about?"
"I envy him, I think. He will always be free of them."
"Black, you are getting on my nerves. Tell me where Sirius is."
"I need to tell him, or someone. He'll thank me for telling him. I'm sure of it."
Remus felt a headache coming on- the conversation was going nowhere. He was anxious to send out a message to The Order to explain what was happening, yet one look at the boy's brooding face told him not to risk turning his wand away to do so. It was probably a trick the Death Eaters were pulling- he was probably sent to distract him for some reason or other, though Merlin knew what purpose that would serve.
However, the way Regulus appeared to think as though he was somewhere else- in another place, another time, prevented him from outright cursing him. He looked lost, almost childlike. Although he sat with a straight back, his arms were now wrapped around him tightly, hugging himself. The few worn pillows surrounding him seemed to engulf his slight frame; he was not exactly emaciated, yet his bones were no longer hidden by the mass of muscle that used to be present.
Once again, he wondered where the boy he once knew had gone. Where was the youth who frequently zipped around the Quidditch pitch in a blur of green and silver, who revelled in the way the air felt so refreshing and free? Where was the rogue who teased his brother that he wasn't a member of the Slug Club, the very same boy who always missed the hint of pride Sirius held for his accomplishments? Wherever he was, it was not on the lounge.
"They were so proud of me, you know? Mother always feared that I wouldn't be the perfect Pureblood. She thought that some people would say that I'm not pretty-" a bitter smirk became plastered on his face, lifting just enough to hint at his pearly white teeth, "that I am beautiful on the inside instead. Any other woman would have been pleased to have a son who was kind, not her though. She was only happy when I turned out to be better than she expected, when she thought I turned out nothing like Sirius…"
"Black, what are you doing here?"
"I can't stay... just tell him I came, will you? Tell him I did it for him," his voice was now urgent, eyes pleading as he leant further forward and grasped onto the front of Remus' robes. "Tell him!"
"Tell him you did what? What are you going to-"
'Bang!'
The sound of a metal bin toppling over outside caused both men to flinch. Regulus' eyes snapped back into focus becoming sharp once more, yet there was an edge of panic in the way they began to dart back and forth again. He let go of his robes and began to inch slowly towards his fallen wand, eyes still trained wearily to the front door where the sound appeared to have stemmed from.
Remus turned his own eyes to the front door, ignoring Regulus in favour of controlling his breathing. He could hear a rattle, and upon quietly tip-toeing into the hallways, saw the handle of the front door twisting rapidly. Behind it, someone was mumbling a few curse words. His body tensed ready to stun whoever it was, yet his ears detected familiarity within the muffled voice. He allowed a small smile to play on his lips, on the verge of feeling reassured.
Sure enough, the door finally swung open and in stepped a slightly red-faced Sirius. His hair was sticking up in places, speckled with snow as was the scarlet scarf he wore. His boots left a pile of white slush on the floor as he put down a brown paper bag.
"Inconvenient, wretched door…"
Remus allowed the relief to consume him as he relaxed back against the wall, waiting for Sirius to realise that he was there. His friend, however, kept muttering curses under his breath, completely oblivious to his presence. He was in the middle of attempting to remove one of his boots, yet only succeeded in accidentally kicking over the bag instead.
"Dammit!"
A small chuckle escaped his throat as he realised how much like Regulus he was, remembering how the youngest of the pair had not half an hour ago said the very same thing. It was a pity that Sirius had stopped acknowledging the existence of his brother, for he would probably have found their likeness amusing- if only because it would have irked their mother to know this. The more he looked at Sirius, the more he picked up on similarities, including the way both men' hair, though currently in a dishevelled state, were cut to the length currently in fashion, perfectly framing their faces and adding to their rugged handsomeness. Both men also had strong jawlines, and their eyes were the same shade.
His thoughts were interrupted by a faint 'pop' and he was brought back to reality. Belatedly, he realised that he had completely forgotten about Regulus' presence in the house. Running back into the living room, he swivelled his head back and forth in search of the boy, already knowing that he would not be there. The room was completely empty, save for the furniture.
He could hear Sirius' footsteps behind him, yet ignored Sirius' unsure greeting of "Moony?" as he too entered the room. He could only stare at the spot where Regulus had been sitting, shaking his head softly from side to side, wondering where he had disappeared to. He was angry with himself, disappointed even, for he knew that whatever his real purpose for visiting was, Regulus was troubled and now he had gone before he could help him.