Summary (extended): Regulus Black is a mess. Having barely survived Voldemort's wrath, he is trying to make a new life for himself, but starting over is proving to be far more difficult than he imagined. Hiding his identity from his new friends is bad enough, but once tragedy strikes back home, he finds it increasingly difficult to pretend everything is fine. When his roommate receives some bad news of her own, Regulus discovers that maybe being unable to tell his friends he's upset about his family issues is the least of his problems.

A couple notes: While this entire story will be from Regulus Black's point of view in 3rd person limited narrator, the setting will not be in the UK but in the US for thematic and narrative reasons. I figured I'd be up front about that given how people tend to have visceral reactions to alterations in setting as well as non-canon characters, which in this instance are a necessity. As to the general canonicity of the story, I am only sticking to the events of the books with some alterations. One instance is the timeline and manner of Regulus's death, which I necessarily changed given that he clearly did not die when he was supposed to yet is definitely known to most people to be dead instead of disappeared. I am also keeping the time in mind when I write, but since I was not alive in 1981, I may be making some errors (for instance, I know this is the year that AIDS was discovered and can look up what was airing on television, but the slang is likely going to be wrong). If you haven't decided not to read yet, well, thanks for giving this story a chance. I hope you enjoy!

Regulus smiled as his friend Kanan cracked a joke. More than half a year had passed since he had left Britain and the war behind him. Being able to do something as simple as go out with some friends to celebrate Halloween (albeit in the American tradition) would have been unthinkable at the start of the year. Then again, at the start of the year, Regulus had planned on dying before February. He did his best to not think about what had happened or what was still happening. That way laid madness. He had survived and for now could have some peace.

Sitting next to Regulus in the booth was Jack, who was nominally his roommate. They had been assigned to share a dorm room at the beginning of the year, but while Regulus would drop by between classes, he still lived with one of the few people he had known from before. For a number of reasons, the situation was best for all those involved. The dorm had not suddenly gained a reputation for being haunted, and Regulus could cast soundproofing spells to his heart's content. The trainee medwitch he actually lived with even benefited from the lack of rent; the compensation for Regulus's service had been very generous.

While his life was never going to be normal again, Regulus was content enough. He could be happy, laugh when someone told a joke, even if he still fell to pieces when left to long to think about what he had done. Still, this was a good day. He was glad his friends had convinced him to come out to dinner dressed up for the holiday. They had initially wanted to go to a fancy restaurant for the laughs, but Jack had insisted that the bar with St. Nixon was the one true option. That the pub was within walking distance of campus was simply a bonus.

Jack had gone with the rather general costume of Frankenstein's monster, and Kanan of course had dressed as a "sexy wizard" by wearing the cheapest, cheesiest costume he could buy and making it shirtless. It was a move Regulus would have expected from—Well, that did not much matter. Satine was dressed as an Egyptian queen, either Nefertiti or Nefertari. Regulus hadn't quite caught what she had said over the din. Regulus had even worn fancy dress despite how silly the he thought the tradition and how silly he felt drinking with his friends while wearing a facsimile of Roman armor.

"You know, Lee, it's good to see you relax once in a while," Kanan mentioned, slurring his words a bit. He was on his third pint. "Knew you had a personality under there."

Satine elbowed Kanan. "Dude! Mean!" she chastised. "Lee's just quiet. Jesus Christ."

" 'Snot what I meant!" Kanan objected, gesturing with his beer. "Lee's just usually all reserved and crap. Never really see him unwind."

"It's fine," Regulus said to Satine. "I knew what he meant." He had never been the most outgoing person, and even after adopting his new identity, that had not changed. Regulus Black had been studious, severe, and obedient, and Leander Grey was the same but even less talktative.

"Kanan's right, though," Jack agreed, directing the comment at Regulus. "You've been pretty down for the past week. Worried about the midterm?"

"A little," Regulus replied, although that was not the reason. "It'll probably be fine, though." In the grand scheme of things, a bad grade was nowhere near the worst that could happen. No, he had heard some rumors regarding—He admitted in a rush, "I'm concerned about everything going on back home. Nothing has happened for the past couple weeks, and it isn't like Voldemort to wait for so long. He has to be planning something." Sirius was going to do something stupid; Regulus could just feel it.

Satine swore at length in French, cursing Voldemort and calling into question the Dark Lord's ancestry. "He is a miserable bastard," she declared, having slipped back into English. "I am sure he will be brought down, even if your Old Families support him. Such foolishness should not be tolerated."

"I heard the government tried to assassinate him," Kanan added as the source of all paranoid conspiracy theories. He did not believe most of them but instead found it amusing to collect them for his own edification. "Like, a CIA black ops shindig and everything."

Jack rolled his eyes but said, "I wouldn't be surprised. I bet the justification was some insane screed about Communism." With a quick glance at Regulus, Jack continued a bit less bitingly, "That said, from what I've heard, axing the nutjob like that is what he deserves. Your brother was a cop, right, Leander?"

"Yeah," Regulus murmured. "He's an Auror. Bloody fucking idiot." The tense could be explained away as grief. Leander's brother was dead, hence why he never wrote or called or visited, even though Regulus's brother was alive and unaware Regulus was as well. Of course, Regulus had also managed to turn what had been a perfectly cheerful conversation into a depressing shitshow. After taking a long drink, he insisted, "It's fine. Reflex, you know?" Changing the subject, Regulus asked Kanan, "When did you say Anna was showing up? It's quarter past eleven."

"We have arrived!" suddenly declared a visibly drunk Anna, hanging off her long-suffering friend Ben. Regulus hid his flinch at the sudden sound and turned around to bear full witness to her flailing. They were dressed as science fiction characters, having appropriated parts of formal robes and martial arts gis to look the part. "And we come bearing excellent news!"

Exasperated, Ben explained, "It's why we're late. Padma grabbed Anna as we were leaving and insisted we have a drink with her to celebrate." He grinned at this point, however, and added, "Old What's-his-face kicked it! Even better, the psychopath was killed by a baby! Can you believe it?!"

Regulus was having trouble parsing what had just been said. "Voldemort's dead…?" he repeated to himself in disbelief. That wasn't possible. He was immortal. There were still multiple horcruxes left that needed to be destroyed. "How—" How was it possible? How was it possible he was dead or close enough to it that everyone believed it? How had a child…

"No one knows!" Anna whispered conspiratorially. Well, she clearly thought she was whispering, but drunken Anna's volume control was faulty and erred on the side of loud. "They're calling the Potter kid the 'Boy Who Lived'! Parents were killed: shame. But! Kid lived! Voldemort's dead!"

Regulus sat frozen in shock as they others cheered. Anna couldn't be talking about the Potters he was thinking of. There wasn't any way. If James and Lily had been threatened by Voldemort, Lily would have cast the Gringotts of all protective wards and the Fidelius to boot to keep them safe and hidden. James would have argued for Sirius to be the Secret Keeper, and—No. No, they wouldn't have done that. (They couldn't have done that. Sirius had to be okay. He just had to be.) No, Sirius wouldn't have let them. He wouldn't have. Then who? Lupin wasn't in any shape to be it, and his status as the resident ear to the ground for werewolf activity put him at risk. Regulus remembered Sirius worrying about that. Of course they couldn't use Pettigrew, since he was spying on the Death Eaters. So who? Potter would never have gone with Severus, and Lily would have been uneasy with Dumbledore. McKinnon was dead, and so was Dorcas Meadowes. Hestia Jones? No, that was a risk, too. Maybe they had gone with Sirius, then. (Sirius couldn't be dead. He couldn't be.)

Regulus must not have kept his features as schooled as he thought, because Jack asked, his voice full of concern, "Hey, Lee, you don't look so well. You all right? I thought you'd be glad to hear the nutjob kicked it."

"I'm fine," Regulus replied, not sounding fine in the slightest. Grimacing, he prevaricated in a mostly steady voice, "I knew them—knew of them. The couple who died. The husband is a friend of a friend of my brother's. I never thought this would happen to them." It was so goddamn wrong. How dare Regulus live when James and Lily had died? Why should he have been granted a second chance when they had been murdered in cold blood, probably dying to protect their son? The room started to spin. "I—I don't feel so well," Regulus said, standing. He needed some space or fresh air. Something. Hell, he just needed to get away for a moment.

Without waiting for a response, Regulus rushed to the bathroom. He was not going to have one of these breakdowns of his in full-view of his friends. Hopefully, Regulus just appeared drunk as he clung to the sink, feeling like he was going to pass out. Breathing heavily, he turned the cold tap and splashed the water on his face to try and stop his vision from fading in and out. Regulus felt like crying as it didn't work. He deserved to feel like this. He knew that. All this was his fault. He should have stayed and tried to kill Voldemort. Maybe then he wouldn't have survived and instead James and Lily would have.

Wait. Maybe—maybe this was just the booze talking, but what if they had used Pettigrew? What if they hadn't known he was a spy? What if—no, they had to know he was a spy. He couldn't have been spying on Sirius and the others. Why would Pettigrew have—Oh, God, their deaths really were Regulus's fault. He was responsible for everything Voldemort had done since he discovered the horcruxes. On the verge of hyperventilating, Regulus decided he was not going to break down in plain view in the men's bathroom. He was not above doing so in a stall.

None of this was right, Regulus thought. Why was he alive? What had been the reason for him to be spared? Others, so many others, had been far more worthy. By now, the Department of Mysteries would know of Voldemort's horcruxes. Regulus had served his purpose. Why now did Lily have to die? She was always so kind to him, even when Regulus had been in such a foul mood Sirius didn't even bother trying to talk to him. She was such a good person, and now she was dead, but Regulus was awful, and he was alive. None of this made any sense. Oh, God, Sirius was going to freak out so badly, and when he found out his younger brother was alive, Regulus knew Sirius was going to wish it had been James instead. Regulus wished it had been. Potter deserved to live.

"Lee?" Jack's voice rang out. "You all right?"

"I'm fine," Regulus replied, voice hoarse and sounding the furthest thing from fine. He wiped the tears from his face, wondering when he had started crying. In the end, it didn't really matter. He probably looked a mess.

"You sound like shit," Jack commented, obviously concerned. He was standing outside the stall Regulus had commandeered for his crying jag. "…They were good friends of yours, weren't they?"

"Lily was one of the best people I knew," Regulus murmured. "She didn't deserve this."

Jack was silent for a long moment before he decided, "Lee, I'm taking you back to our dorm room, all right? There's no point to you staying out and getting blasted. I mean, if you want, we can drink the place dry, but somehow I have the feeling you'd rather just go home." And mourn remained unspoken, but Regulus knew that was what his friend meant.

"I don't want to ruin your night," he protested, vertigo hitting him again as he made an attempt to stand. Leaning against the wall, he took a deep breath before unlatching the door. Jack was standing slightly off to the side and was visibly surprised Regulus had agreed so easily.

"Leander, are you okay to walk? We could apparate back…" Jack trailed off as Regulus stumbled. Jack helped steady his friend and continued, "And it's fine. The others are planning on hitting another bar, and I'm honestly starting to get a little tired. Besides, making sure you're all right is more important right now."

Regulus felt the tears come back and cursed himself for being so weak. "I don't deserve it, Jack," he denied, shaking his head vehemently. "I really don't."

Jack opened his mouth as if to argue with him but then appeared to think better of it. Instead, he just helped Regulus back to the table they had been sitting at. Regulus just tried to concentrate on making the world stop spinning as Jack explained they were leaving. Kanan and Satine sounded disappointed, but apparently Regulus looked about as bad as he felt, seeing as they both agreed he needed to be taken back to his dorm. Given the difficulty Jack faced in maneuvering Regulus outside, Jack apparated them back to their room. That, apparently, was the final straw, and Jack only barely was able to grab the wastebasket in time for Regulus to retch into it.

Collapsed onto the floor, Regulus keened, "I'm sorry," over and over in between losing what little remained in his stomach to the wastebasket. Jack sighed and gently squeezed his friend's shoulder in support. After what seemed like an interminable amount of time, Jack vanished the sick in the trash bin and told Regulus, "I'm going to get you a glass of water, all right? I'll be back in a second."

By the time Jack returned, Regulus was dry-heaving into the basket again. "I think you had a bit too much to drink," Jack commented, handing Regulus the glass. "I know you probably don't want to, but drinking the water'll make you feel better."

Regulus downed what he could before he had to vomit again. Everything hurt, but he fucking deserved it. Eventually, his stomach settled to the point that he didn't need to be folded over the wastebasket. Jack had given him another glass of water to drink, after which he was dragged to the communal bathroom and made to brush his teeth. "You'll be glad of it in the morning, Lee, trust me," Jack said as he imperiously enforced the cruel and unusual punishment.

Once back in the room, Regulus fumbled to take off his stupid costume. After managing to take off the armor, he decided to hell with the rest of it and just collapsed onto his bed. Jack took the intelligent course of action and pulled Regulus's boots off as well before throwing a blanket over him. "If you need to talk, just wake me up, okay?" Jack told his friend as he changed into his own pajamas.

" 'Kay," Regulus murmured, glad the room had finally stopped spinning. He could think about everything in the morning.

Regulus awoke to the sound of screaming. It only took a moment for him then to realize that he was the one doing the screaming. He was so cold. Why was he cold? Dammit, he hoped he hadn't woken up Jack. Oh, sitting up was a bad idea. "J—jack? You awake?" Regulus stammered, trying to get his breathing back under control. He curled up under the blanket, trying in vain to warm up.

"Yeah, Lee, kinda hard not to be," Jack replied, sounding about as tired as Regulus felt. "What the hell was that?" he asked, sounding far more curious than annoyed.

"Nightmare," Regulus replied automatically. That was the extent to which he was going to examine it. Thinking about what he had—No… Nononononono. "Oh, God, I'm going to be sick…" Regulus realized, making a mad grab for the trash bin again. Here he had hoped he wouldn't have to vomit again that night. After he finished retching, Regulus apologized, feeling he was every bit the burden he was, "I'm really sorry, Jack. I should have gone back to my apartment, not fucked up your sleep cycle."

Jack was silent for a moment before he admitted quietly, "It's okay. My cousin Sam gets nightmares like this, too. I mean, his are from Vietnam, but… I guess I'm just trying to say I get it. It's fine."

Regulus felt his face flush with embarrassment. "I still should have realized," he insisted, sitting up and looking for his boots. "I'll head back to the apartment. You've that paper due on Monday, remember?"

"Lee, we were going to get trashed tonight anyway," Jack pointed out reasonably. "I had already worked that into my calculations. Besides, it's just a short paper for Intro to Art History. I could write it in my sleep." Regulus was fairly certain he saw Jack grimace in the dark before continuing seriously, "The question is, will you be all right? You were a mess earlier."

Regulus stared at the floor. He probably wasn't going to be all right, but that was a small difference from what was normal. Now he just had even more deaths of people he knew to weigh on him. As evenly as he could manage, Regulus reassured his roommate, "I'll be okay."

"Your girlfriend's around this weekend, then?" Jack teased.

"She's not my girlfriend!" Regulus insisted, glad Jack was going to drop it. When were Jack and the others going to accept that? She really wasn't his girlfriend. They were just friends and happened to live together. "Seriously!" Regulus winced even as he said it, knowing his brother would have cackled and then made snide comments about Regulus's preference for buxom redheads. Oh, Merlin, Sirius…

"Uh-huh," Jack replied, obviously not believing him. "Well, tell your not-a-girlfriend I said hi."

"Will do," Regulus said, distractedly as he pulled out some normal clothes to wear. "She's insisting on having you over for dinner at some point, by the way."

Jack sounded a little perplexed as he said, "Oh, really?"

"Yep," Regulus confirmed as he pulled on a pair of trousers. "She thinks you deserve some sort of reward for putting up with me." He was only half joking as he said it, especially given he was fairly certain that was the medical student's actual reasoning. After pulling on his boots, Regulus said, "In any case, I'll see you on Monday. Thanks again for making sure I didn't end up face-down in a gutter."

"No problem," Jack said, half-asleep. "Later."

The next morning saw Regulus sprawled on the couch in his apartment watching cartoons on the telly. Well, to be honest, "morning" was something of a subjective term, considering it was almost noon. He had cereal and tea, though, so doing the equivalent of lying in bed all day was something he considered acceptable. The bizarre American cartoons also distracted him from the real problem. Never had he been more thankful for his roommate's cable subscription.

Around half-past one, the medical student finally returned from brunch. She had left some time while Regulus was snoozing earlier in the morning. He had only awoken once more the night before, so all-in-all, that had been a good night's sleep. With a sigh, she inquired, "Are we watching soap operas today?"

"Maybe," he replied, wondering if he could convince her to turn the hot water kettle on. He really didn't feel like getting up. "But I'll probably just watch MTV."

She leaned over the couch to grab the remote away from him, and Regulus tried not to think about Lily. Vesta Dinoso only vaguely looked like Lily as she leaned against the couch, but for a moment, he thought he was seeing a ghost. They both had red hair, that was true, but the medical student's was darker and more auburn then red. She was older, too, but she had the same overprotective streak when it came to Regulus self-destructing. "I just wanted to check the news!" Vesta defended herself at whatever look Regulus had on his face. He must have seemed affronted. She changed the channel, and they watched the news in silence for a moment before she mentioned gently, "I heard about your friends. I'm really sorry."

Regulus looked away. "I should have expected it," he murmured. "They pissed off Voldemort one too many times, I guess."

"Still," she said. After a moment, she asked hesitantly, "You given more thought to the headshrink? I know you don't want to go, but… After this, you should probably talk to someone. Hell, even if you just go to a priest or something."

Regulus couldn't help himself: he laughed. "Me? Go talk to a priest? Christ, that would be a thing to see," he replied in disbelief. "I can see it now: 'Hi, I'm effectively a servant of Satan according to scripture and also a Nazi to people who know better, but I need to unburden myself because I'm depressed.' Yes, that will go over excellently."

"You don't need to be pissy about it," Vesta snapped. Her face softened almost immediately after and apologized, "I know you're just lashing out, but you know what I meant. There are churches that cater to witches and wizards, and there's a chaplain at the university. I only mentioned it because you don't want to see a psychiatrist."

"I know," Regulus murmured, feeling like a blithering idiot. He kept letting his temper get the better of him of late, and Vesta really didn't need him yelling at her over nothing. She had enough on her plate with medical school. "I'm sorry. I just—If James is dead, then what about Sirius? If he's dead, too, then I don't know what I'd…" Damn it, he was not going to think about this. His whole reason for watching the stupid cartoons was to ignore what was happening.

Vesta stayed silent. Regulus tried not to think about what that meant. She finally sighed and commanded, "Move your feet. I'm commandeering the end of the couch." He did as she asked, curling up under the blanket, and she flopped down onto the couch beside him, putting her feet up on the coffee table. "I haven't heard anything, but I don't think your brother's been hurt. We probably would have heard something by now, so there's no reason to worry for now, all right?" she said in an attempt to reassure him.

"I suppose," he said, his reply muffled by the blanket. "He'll do something stupid, you know. He's going to do something stupid and end up dead or in Azkaban."

"Well, he hasn't yet, has he?" Vesta pointed out, switching the channel back so some loud and obnoxiously upbeat music video was playing.

"Potter was always holding him back then," Regulus corrected morosely.

Vesta smacked him upside the head with the cereal box before resuming her pillaging of his food. "Stop it," she ordered. "Watch your MTV. Don't you have calculus to worry about as well?"

"Eugh. It's arithmancy all over again," Regulus complained, glad for the distraction. "Except it doesn't make any sense. How can something with infinite surface area have a finite volume? Magic can't answer that, but apparently maths can. No, I should be working on my lit class. My own damn fault for wanting to read Shakespeare for a grade. Have I mentioned that this system is such a pain? Why can't there just be a single bloody exam at the end of term?"

"Shh, my apprentice, you know nothing about the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune that is the American school system," Vesta said oh-so-solemnly before giggling. "You need to stop taking things so seriously, Regulus. You're young. Act like it, will you?"

Regulus furrowed his eyebrows. "I thought bitching about irrelevant school things counted towards that," he mentioned in mock confusion. He grinned, adding, "Oh, and gossiping. Before you ask, I think Anna and Padma have finally hooked up. I'm sure Ben'll be complaining about accidentally walking in on them soon enough."

Vesta shook her head ruefully. "How all your female friends turn out to be attached or lesbians is beyond me," she commented, throwing one of the cereal's marshmallows him. "It makes matchmaking that much harder, you know."

"I've other things to do," Regulus deflected, hoping to high heaven he wasn't blushing. He was so bloody obvious about it, especially now that he was so pale it looked like he hadn't seen the sun in years. Jack's comment the night before had hit a little too close to the mark, but Regulus knew his stupid, childish crush on Vesta was never going to lead to anything.

"So sure of this, are you?" Vesta replied, sounding like a two-foot tall Muppet that would remain nameless. She laughed and suggested in her normal voice, "Or should I just widen the playing field? You had a boyfriend at some point, didn't you?"

"Yes, but that's not something that's ever going to happen again," Regulus stammered quickly, now definitely sure he was blushing like mad.

"Ugh, Regulus, do you know how difficult you are?" Vesta complained dramatically. "I try to set you up, and you just flop out on the couch and declare that your life is pain. I mean, that is a viable strategy for attracting women, but they have to be able to witness you being a Byronic stereotype." She smiled and said sincerely, "I just want you to be happy, is all. You're a good kid, you know?"

"I guess," he said, even though he knew he was the farthest thing from good. Yes, nothing would ever come of his idiot crush, but Regulus was okay with that. He'd rather have her as a friend than nothing.

They spent the rest of the afternoon watching the television, and Regulus barely thought about what had gone wrong. He knew he would have to face the truth at some point, but he figured he deserved at least a single happy afternoon. After all, the other shoe hadn't yet dropped. When Vesta ordered some delivery, Regulus finally started talking. He told her about Lily, who had always been willing to help him with his Charms homework and made sure to let him know Sirius missed him. Lily, who once Regulus had been Marked had convinced Sirius to talk to him again. She had known, somehow, he hadn't chosen to be a Death Eater. Lily had always been unfailingly kind to Regulus, and he had always counted her as his friend. Regulus might not have liked Potter so much, but he respected the older man, and he never would have wished something like this on him.

Vesta listened, occasionally asking a question, but she just let Regulus talk. He found himself telling her more than he had intended. He told her about Dorcas Meadowes and Marlene McKinnon, other victims of the war who had been only a couple years older than him. How Dorcas was completely mental on a good day, and Marlene had always looked to help others. Hell, he even started telling her about Barty, who wasn't dead, but—knowing his friend—was probably going to end up in Azkaban before things finished. In a way, all of them were casualties. Yes, Sirius and Lupin were alive, but most of their friends were dead. Regulus was alive too, but he wasn't about to leave himself off the list. Their whole generation had been broken, and only bits and pieces were left. Sirius would probably put cellotape over what was broken and call it a day, and Lupin would super-glue everything he could back into place, but none of them would ever be whole again. Well, Regulus would never be whole again.

"Don't say that," Vesta asked, her hand on his shoulder. "You'll get better. Really."

She seemed to be trying to convince herself rather than him. Regulus smiled sadly and lied, "I suppose. It'll heal up just like everything else, right?" More honestly, he continued, "But you know, the scars'll always be there. Can't get rid of them." He hadn't meant for his voice to break, but he was still a bit over-emotional. Why couldn't that have been the first thing to heal?

"Bellatrix didn't break you, Regulus," Vesta insisted, steel in her voice. "She hurt you terribly, but you survived. Yes, you'll have to carry the weight of what happened, but what she did to you doesn't make you less of a person, do you hear me?"

"I know," he said quietly and grimaced. Hating himself for admitting it, he added, "Knowing that doesn't stop me from feeling like it, though."

Vesta sighed, looking for all the world as if she wished she could help him stop hurting. After a moment, however, her expression twisted in anger, and she said darkly, "I hope that bitch rots in hell."

"Maybe she'll get caught," Regulus suggested, knowing it was unlikely. "Now that Voldemort's dead, she'll probably get sloppy. She always was quick to anger." He had some wicked-looking scars that could attest to that. He shook his head to clear away the accompanying memories before they completely resurfaced. A wave of fatigue hit him, and he said, "I'm going to go to bed. I didn't get much sleep last night."

"The nightmares?" Vesta asked despite already knowing the answer. "They keep you up more than usual?"

She looked so concerned that it made his heart hurt. "It was just a rough night," Regulus dodged. "Nothing really out of the ordinary. I have to apologize to Jack for waking him up, though. I was pretty out of it for a while."

"Would you like to sleep in my room tonight?" Vesta suggested as gently as she could. She turned pink after a moment, probably realizing her idea could have been taken the wrong way, and clarified, "So you're not alone, I mean?"

"I'll be fine," Regulus answered, possibly a little too quickly. Yes, some human contact would be nice, but he had enough trouble making eye contact when she wore a low-cut shirt. He had a fairly good idea of how else his body could betray him if they shared a bed, no matter how innocent either's intentions. "Thank you, though."

"Well, wake me up if you need anything, all right?" Vesta said, embarrassed for some reason beyond Regulus. Some of her behavior didn't make any sense to him at all.

With a brief smile, Regulus said good night and went into his room, shutting the door behind himself. Unlike the dorm-room, he had a set of silencing charms imbued into the walls so he didn't disturb anyone with his nightmares. Regulus decided to veto getting ready for bed and instead fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit his pillow.

He awoke in the morning to Vesta cursing loudly, beating out his alarm to wake him up for classes. Throwing a shirt on, Regulus walked into the living room to find Vesta snatch up the newspaper and look to set it on fire. When she noticed Regulus, she did in fact set it on fire. "What the hell?" he said, more in confusion than anything else.

"Nothing," Vesta replied, still holding the burning newspaper as if nothing was wrong. "The news is shit, and sometimes fire is the answer."

Regulus raised an eyebrow. Usually when she was angry at the news, she would shove the paper in his face and demand he share her outrage. So what could—Regulus blanched. "What happened to Sirius?" he asked, trying to keep himself from sounding worried.

Vesta remained expressionless, obviously trying to figure out if she could get away with lying. Regulus made a lunge for the flaming newspaper, causing Vesta to put it out before they burned the building down on accident. She held it as far out of reach as she could from Regulus, and insisted, "He's fine. Stupid, but fine."

Regulus was practically climbing over her to grab the paper but spared a moment to demand, waiting for an opening, "How stupid? Critical condition stupid or Azkaban stupid?"

Vesta seemed to deflate a little, and Regulus took advantage of her lowering her guard to grab the newspaper. As he was about to read what was left of the headline, Vesta admitted gravely, "They think he killed thirteen people, including that friend of his, Pettigrew."

The world stopped. "No… No, Sirius would never—He'd never kill anyone," Regulus insisted, staring at the article stating just the opposite. He looked back up at Vesta. "He doesn't use the Unforgivables, even when the DMLE said it was okay. Sirius would never hurt innocent people if he could avoid it," Regulus continued, wondering in the back of his mind whom exactly he was trying to convince. "I—I should have realized Pettigrew was a traitor. I just thought he was a spy…" he said, mostly to himself.

Vesta set her jaw before carefully reasoning, "There was no way you could have known, Regulus, and there's nothing you could have done. You said Pettigrew was in your brother's close group of friends, right? Do you really think they would have taken your word over his?"

Regulus stared at her, unable to process what she wasn't saying. "He didn't kill those people!" he shouted. "Someone has to be lying! Sirius would never!"

Vesta looked off to the side, clearly upset. "He'll be found innocent at trial, then, won't he?" she suggested in an attempt to placate him. She grimaced and continued vehemently, "Don't think I'm happy about this, Regulus. You remember how close your brother and my cousin are, and believe it or not, I'm really fucking worried about you. I know you don't want to think the worst of him, but everyone else is. Do you understand me?" She sighed, looking for words. "Look, I buy that he went after Pettigrew on a revenge mission, although there's no motive in the paper other than 'Death Eater', but I think it's a bit of a stretch that he wouldn't try to kill the bastard. Maybe something went wrong, or maybe it's a frame-up. The point is that in the end it doesn't matter what I think, or what you think, or maybe even the truth. It's awful, especially if it turns out you're right, because it's pretty damned obvious your brother's already been tried in the court of public opinion and found guilty. If the charges stick, you'll have to live with that."

"He didn't do it," Regulus repeated with a tremor in his voice. "He wouldn't."

Vesta looked down at the floor and sighed. "I know," she murmured. "I'm not—I don't—All of that just came out wrong. It's just… You know that with this happening on the heels of Voldemort dying that it's going to be talked about. I'm not saying don't defend him, but…"

"This isn't happening," Regulus said, finally realizing that at some point he had fallen to his knees. He knew Vesta was trying to help, trying to tell him what he had already known. He couldn't say anything, because if it had been bizarre he had been upset by the news Voldemort had killed Potter and Lily, then his extended breakdown because of Sirius would be less strange and more suspicious. The ugly tattoo on his left arm didn't help that interpretation in the slightest. Regulus glanced at the clock. Class was in twenty minutes, which meant— "Vesta, you're going to be late for work," he reminded her as he managed to get back on his feet. He could let his own life be blown all to hell, but he didn't need to take any bystanders with him.

Vesta's look clearly communicated she thought he was a little more than slightly crazy. "It's fine. Leah can cover for me," she said, sounding a vaguely uneasy. "Look, if you need—"

"I'll be fine," Regulus insisted with a half-assed smile to try to convince her. "Really. I'm not half-bad at acting, remember?"

With a frown, Vesta allowed, "If you're sure. Still, if you need someone to talk to, you know how to reach me." She did not seem to believe he would do so, which caused her to continue sternly, "I mean it, Regulus. Give me a call if you need to talk. I don't want to hear from someone else you've done something stupid."

Regulus bristled and protested, "I'm not going to break Sirius out of Azkaban."

"That's not—I know. I just worry, all right?" she replied placatingly. Vesta put her hand on his shoulder and made to say something more, but she held her tongue. With a sigh, she let her hand drop and instead said, "I'll see you tonight."

Regulus flashed her a brief smile, feeling like an ass for even briefly losing his temper. "I'll be fine," he tried to reassure her.

Despite not entirely believing him, Vesta left for work. Once she had closed the door, Regulus robotically took a shower and dressed before collecting his things for class. Irony of ironies, he was actually on-time for the history survey, managing to run through the door a whole five minutes early. Professor Gray had not yet appeared, even more luckily, so Regulus would at least be spared the arch, unimpressed look that reminded him overmuch of his grandfather.

As Regulus took his usual seat at the back of the classroom next to his friend, Jack inquired genuinely, "You feeling any better?"

Regulus grimaced, running through a mental list of possible responses he would receive if he told the truth. Then again, Jack would probably notice he was lying if he said otherwise. "Not really," Regulus replied, trying to at least not let it be obvious the depths to which he felt the farthest from okay.

"I take it you saw the news this morning, then?" Jack guessed, sounding a fair bit more light-hearted than Regulus felt. "I could've sworn at least that guy wasn't as bonkers as the rest, being an Auror and all."

"He and James Potter were best friends," Regulus heard himself say.

Jack looked surprised at the comment, but instead of the condemnation expected, he replied, "I'd sorta heard that, too. I mean, yeah, the Black family's involved in all sorts of dark magic, but somehow I don't think they look too kindly on Voldemort after all the other shit that happened." Regulus was admittedly somewhat stunned at what Jack said, but he hadn't realized he hadn't schooled his features to remain more or less neutral until Jack backtracked, "I mean, I don't really know much, but if it were my brother who got killed and then my best friend, I'd be pretty pissed off, so it doesn't make sense to me that he'd be working for Voldemort, but—"

"He wasn't," Regulus interrupted, mentally slapping himself for saying even that. "Lily was good friends with him, too," he added to try and minimize how awkward the conversation could become. Lily and Sirius were friends, even if that just wasn't how Regulus knew his brother. "There's no one more loyal."

"Well, it does look a bit suspicious," Jack replied pensively. He shrugged and declared, "It's not like we can do about it, though. Que sera, sera, right?"

Regulus thankfully did not have to answer, because with that, Professor Gray finally arrived and apologized for the brief delay, looking even less put-together than usual. From the dejected sounds of the other students and mention of a fifteen-minute-rule, apparently everyone had been about to bail. Regulus was glad to have the lecture go forward; it was a fantastic way to keep his mind off everything else. Thankfully, he was going to be busy with academics for the next three hours and therefore had a convenient excuse not to think about his family.

Regulus was doing fairly well until it was time for lunch, at which point Anna found him and dragged him off to meet some of her new friends in the fencing club. He knew he was still acting fairly melancholic, but he tried not to be too much of an emotional drag if only to avoid the interrogation that would ensue. Regulus eventually admitted to himself during lunch that he was not feeling entirely too terrible. The realization made him feel ill. How could he feel anything close to happy while one of his friends had just died and his brother was in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit? Better yet, both were true because he had not put two brain cells together and realized, no, Pettigrew was not so brave as to spy. The fucking yellow rat bastard was a coward, through and through. What's more, that meant the jackass was a traitor. And Regulus hadn't even said a word. He had never thought to ask Sirius about it, and now Sirius was looking at life in Azkaban.

Hoping no one had noticed his sudden shift in mood, Regulus took his leave. Back in London while he had actively been involved in the war, wandering around the city had helped clear his head, and he could only hope it would now. November had only begun, but the weather outside was already too cold for his liking. He felt slightly silly wearing a coat and a scarf when everyone else seemed to be making due with heavy jackets. The nearby area as a whole was full of college and graduate students with a smattering of faculty, so Regulus's desire for solitude led him to the bridge over the river near the home for idiosyncratic students known as the nearby science university. Usually the bizarre markings on the bridge could cheer Regulus up (Sirius would have thought the prank was hilarious and roped his friends into recreating it), but this time, they served the opposite purpose. Sirius would never be found innocent, and he was going to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban. Regulus would never be able to see him again. It had not been likely he would before now, but that small hope had always been there. Now, he really was a good as dead.

Leaning against the cold railing, Regulus stared absently at the river. He chided himself mentally once he realized he had almost started using the weather as a metaphor for his mental state. Rivers were good symbols, though. They could be the relentless passing of time, the washing away of sins, and even progress. Bridges must also have some sort of symbolic value, but Regulus was more concerned with this one's height. Water could be harder than concrete. Regulus had heard that somewhere. Less mess, too. No one would miss him, really. Mum and Dad thought he was dead. Sirius thought he was dead. He was a burden to everyone else. Vesta might be sad for a while, but she would move on. They had only known each other for about a year, not much time in the grand scheme of things. Basically, everyone who did care about him thought he was dead. Now he wished he was, so why not fix it?

Why not?

Shaking, Regulus let go of the railing and backed up. He had to stop thinking like this. He wished he could stop thinking like this, but he couldn't control his thoughts. They kept circling back over and over. Yes, in spring, he had been particularly bad, but when summer came, he had been able to think straight again. He was supposed to be getting better, damn it! The French had a term for this: l'appel du vide, the call of the void. Sure, it was usually applied to high places, but death was a sort of void in and of itself, wasn't it?

Regulus stepped back over to the side of the bridge almost unconsciously, but someone dragged him away by the collar of his shirt.

"You, my stupid friend, are a moron," declared a voice out of the past.

Coming up: Things go farther south.

22 October 2015