"…but you said—"
"I know what I said," Barty replied bitterly. "And I meant it, believe it or not. But you can't be a fool about it, Reg."
Regulus pouted, the way that used to make Barty smile and kiss him softly. "I'm not a fool," he insisted. "If you didn't want us to get this close, why'd you start anything with me in the first place?" He tried not to show Barty how hurt he was.
"Don't put this all on me, you know full well what would happen if they found out. Your parents would disinherit you and I'm sure my father would find some excuse to throw you in Azkaban if he thought it'd keep his reputation safe." Barty practically spat the words. He held a strong hatred for his father, and Regulus' parents were working their ways onto that list as well. He wanted to be with Regulus, but he knew there was no way that they could stay together.
"You're rejecting me, are you?"
Barty hesitated. "He will. I'm not about to give him the chance."
"You said…" Regulus repeated, his voice barely a whisper. He couldn't speak louder than the storm that was thundering in his head – was this the last time he'd see Barty? "You said you loved me."
"Love, present tense, yes."
Regulus shut his eyes, trying to piece together Barty's words, trying to bring meaning to them, trying to push down the pain from what he said. He shook his head slightly. "I don't care what they think. I don't care what they'll do. They'll leave you alone—"
"Reg…"
"They don't have to find out, we've hidden it this long, haven't we?"
Barty took Regulus' arm in his hand, turning his face to Barty's with the other hand. "And if they do? They'll burn us to ashes, you realize that?"
"I don't care," Regulus repeated, emphasizing each word. "And if we need to, there's nothing stopping us from getting out. We can escape.
x
Barty left his room, heading down the stairs to the kitchen. His parents ate breakfast nearly an hour ago, but Barty hadn't been bothered to come downstairs to eat before. "D'you have the paper?" he asked to no one in particular.
His father grunted, holding it up, and Barty took it from him. He scanned the pages quickly. It'd become a habit of his, it kept him connected. He turned from the first page, ignoring all the 'big news' that was more lie than news. He glanced past the obituary – it was too early for this. He was eighteen years old, he shouldn't have to worry about whether anyone he was close to was killed. He also shouldn't have to worry about a war, but what could he do about that now that it'd begun?
But a name caught his eye, a familiar name listed in black among the names of the dead. He couldn't stop the tears that burned his eyes and fell down his cheeks. He turned his back on his parents, so they wouldn't see and ask what was wrong.
'He's escaped,' Barty thought, looking down at the small print that read Regulus Black, hanging onto some shred of false hope that this was another lie the paper concocted.
x
For Camp Potter (First Aid with the prompts 'storm', 'ashes', and 'reject') and for the Represent that Character Challenge.