Chapter Forty-Nine: Entanglings

Hermione

August 1979, Saltburn-by-Sea

"It's going to be soon," said Hermione. "I know it is."

"Regulus?" asked Ginny. "He's not supposed to go for the Horcrux for about another month." She stood on the sofa on her tiptoes to check the timeline, with all its many crossings-out and redoings. "Yeah. September '79."

"That was the date on the memorial stone my dear mother had installed for him," said Sirius. "I, obviously, wasn't there."

"But we've made all sorts of changes," said Hermione. She'd assumed they would have all learnt by now not to take anything for granted. She'd also learnt through years of experience, mainly with Harry and Ron, not to assume that anyone had grasped anything.

"Assumption is dangerous," said Luna, who did at least appear to understand.

Ginny bounced upwards, landing neatly on her bottom on the sofa with her legs crossed. Sometimes, only sometimes, Hermione was jealous of her ability with that sort of thing.

"Well, balls," said Ginny. "Are we going to be ready?"

"By we, I assume that you mean me," said Hermione.

"Assumption remains dangerous," said Luna.

"I assumed my brother was a heartless, Death Eater bastard," said Sirius. "Turns out that isn't true."

"Aside from the fact that your parents were married," said Ginny.

Hermione stopped listening to the discussion.

She had a busy calendar of social engagements over the next few days, something which made her hope Regulus would not act too soon. It was easy enough for her to mess around with their little project when she was here, but when she was out with the Blacks she could barely go for a wee without Walburga knowing all the details. All her sneaking around had led Sirius' mother to assume that she had some kind of bladder problems.

"We should have a name," said Ginny. "For the project. Like the Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters." She grimaced. "Well, not like the Death Eaters. You know what I mean."

"Order of the Black Dog," said Sirius.

'Self-obsessed bastard," said Ginny.

"My parents were married."

"Oh, fuck off."

"Anyway, Dumbledore named the Order of the Phoenix after his pet, and Padfoot is basically a pet."

"Except he's you."

"Excuse me, but I would like to point out that this conversation is doing Hermione no good, however stress relieving that it may be for the two of you."

Hermione was becoming incredibly grateful for Luna.

She just had so much to do, and so much to maintain if she wanted to keep their cover. It didn't do just to be decent; Walburga was vigilant for any signs of anybody slipping up. She had to make sure that they believed that she was their relative, and that they were safe to talk freely in front of her. Regulus had come close to confiding in her but had not. Sirius had assured her that he had always been adverse to confiding in anyone, but she couldn't help but feel that if she could just have been a little bit better, a little bit more convincing, he might have done it.

But then she wasn't supposed to interfere too much, and would that have been interfering?

"Hermione," said Sirius, pulling her from her thoughts. Ginny and Luna had left the room. She could hear them arguing in the kitchen.

"Hermione," he said again. "Stop panicking."

"Easy for you to say," she said, but she felt her heart rate slow as he put his arms around her.

"I love you," he said.

"Love you too." She turned her face upwards and kissed him. "I still hate your family."

It had become a thing that they did, that she would remind him from time to time that she did still hate his family. Perhaps it made too much light of the situation, she didn't know, but he seemed to like it. She'd learnt in her last war that it was the little things that mattered, the little things that made each of them a tiny bit less on edge. That, and decent food. Which thankfully they had here.

"Good," he said, kissing her back.

The kissing made her forget almost everything. The feel of his lips on hers, parting slightly, the sound of his breathing growing quicker.

"I do have to go and see them," she said. "However much I hate them."

"Balls," he said. "Can't you stay for five more minutes?"

"Five minutes? You're losing your touch in your old age, Sirius Black. I'd not risk being late for your mother for something so mediocre."

He stuck out his tongue.

"Yeah, alright. Whatever."

"Oh Merlin, you're talking like Ginny again. Can you try to stop talking like a teenage girl from the 1990s?"

"No."

"Fine."

"Whatever." He did a little hand flick.

She poked him with her foot, extracting herself from him and standing up.

"I'd better go. I promised to drop in and see Francis Macmillan after lunch with some of Walburga's more distant cousins. All the men wear the Dark Mark." She shuddered at that. "The only good thing about it is that they might gossip, if I seem vapid enough. Adeline and I will have to talk about fashion or babies."

"Francis dies," said Sirius. "I checked."

Ginny wandered back in, clutching a bowl full of cereal.

"When?" she asked. "Can you remember?"

"Today," said Sirius. "Well, two days after he was attacked. In St Mungo's. That's all I can remember."

"Hmm," said Ginny. "The Death Eaters caught up to him, most likely." She grimaced. "Not the first time. They got some Auror that way a few weeks ago. We don't know how they got in, there's nobody suspect on any of the visitor books as far as Moody could tell."

"I'm going to leave you to work with that one," said Hermione. "I've got a lunch to attend."

"Sound shit," said Ginny.

"Indeed," said Luna, from the doorway.

Grimmauld Place felt more oppressive than usual. Perhaps it was Regulus' behaviour. He alternated between his perfectly behaved, usual self and a erratic, confused-looking man when he thought that nobody was looking at him. Hermione witnessed him staring blankly into the middle distance more than once, or else rearranging things in his vicinity that didn't need any rearrangement.

"Is something the matter?" she asked him.

"I am as well as can be expected," he replied, continuing to rearrange books on a shelf.

Her attempt to delve into his state of mind was immediately ruined by Adeline, dashing into the room with her hair partially pinned up on her head.

"Lyra! Oh, Lyra! You are here! Regulus and I have something we wish to tell you, don't we?" She wrapped her hands around his shoulders and waist as she spoke. Her face was beaming, wide and happy and glowing with pride. His was tight, nervous, tense.

"We do," he said.

"Regulus and I are going to be having a baby!"

Hermione's heart almost stopped for a moment. A baby? Fucking hell. How, what, what on earth would that do to everything?

She couldn't think like that. It wasn't fair. The whole point of this had been to allow people to live their lives as they should have been able to if not for Voldemort, and this fell into that, didn't it? So it was a good thing. Not something to panic about. Or at least half of each, anyway.

"Congratulations!" she said, with the happiest smile she could get. "I am so happy for the both of you!"

She leant in to hug Adeline, a formal kiss on each cheek and a tight embrace, because she did actually really like this girl. She wanted her to have happiness with Regulus.

"Thank you! We are trying to decide whether we should ask the Healer to tell us if it is a girl or a boy. Narcissa says that she would have it no other way than to know, and Walburga wishes for us to find out, too, but I quite like the idea of the surprise. What do you think?"

"Wait, maybe?" said Hermione.

"I think so too, like I said, although obviously to know would help us to prepare a name."

Hermione lost track of Adeline's train of thought as she went off on a list of all of the names they had considered, discussions of the various family members' reactions to the baby news, and other things Hermione paid no attention to. She was watching Regulus. He had talked more than once about his desire for children, and seemed more than sincere, but this was not the expression of a man who looked happy.

"Don't you think?" asked Adeline.

"Maybe," Hermione replied, hedging her bets.

"He's got worse," confided Adeline, later, over tea. The wizards of the Black family had disappeared into the library for whisky, and the ladies were taking tea in the drawing room. Archaic, it really was. "Regulus. He's been acting even more strangely than usual."

"Since he found Francis," said Hermione.

"He didn't find him," said Adeline, one eyebrow raised and her teacup paused halfway to the mouth. "You did. He told me so himself."

"Regulus sent me there," said Hermione. "Do you remember that night?"

"Of course," said Adeline. She put her hand to her stomach. "I know they say that a baby can cloud your mind, but I don't think that happens quite yet. I remember you arriving in the house, and Regulus giving you advice, and then he visited Francis in St Mungo's the next day."

Hermione paused. None of that had happened. Or not how she remembered it. So why did they have such different memories?

A Memory Charm was the most obvious solution. Hermione had enough experience with those. But what motivation would anybody have to modify either of their memories? Regulus had found the body of somebody that Death Eaters, the people he was allied with, had decided to attempt to murder, and so he certainly had enough motive. But why Adeline, and why not her?

Unless he had simply not had the chance, yet. She'd have to be on her guard. Yet another thing to watch out for. Maybe she could find a Pensive and put her memory of that night in, for safekeeping. Or describe it to Sirius or Luna in detail.

Or something.

"I wonder why," said Adeline. "I feel rather as though there's something going on here that I am not aware of."

"There is," said Hermione. "I'm sure of it." She didn't have to explain why.

"Maybe we should go to visit Francis," said Adeline, nibbling at a biscuit. "If I do not need to be sick, first. Morning sickness is not well named. It doesn't stop at lunchtime."

Hermione was incredibly reluctant to take Adeline with her, but she wasn't one to be told no to, it turned out. She found herself trailing through the waiting room at St Mungo's, with Adeline storming ahead and a creeping feeling that this was all about to go horribly wrong. In truth, she'd had that feeling for some months now, but that was beside the point. It was now about not making the feeling get any worse.

"Hello, cousin," she said, greeting him. He looked better than he had done the last time that she visited him.

"Hello," he replied. "Not brought your cousin?"

"I believe Regulus is busy," said Hermione.

"Good. And you are?"

"Adeline Black. The wife of Regulus Black. We have met many times at parties."

"To tell the truth, I'm not usually paying attention to the witches."

"I had assumed as much at school." Adeline pulled her cloak around her and fixed him with her best imperious look. "Now. We have a debate that we wish for you to settle."

"I'm not really in any fit state," grumbled Francis. "Can't you find somebody else to be your arbiter? Healer Wright will be have your, well, she's opposed to violence, but she'll come and shout at you."

"There isn't anybody else," said Hermione. "Who was it that found you, the night that you were attacked?"

Francis gave them a quizzical look. "Regulus. Which you would know, because he sent you to take me here, and you told the Healers some lie."

"That is not what I have been led to believe," said Adeline.

"Well," said Francis. "Someone's lying, then. And I don't think it's me, even though my memory of the events of that night is patchy."

"I don't think it's you, either," said Hermione.

"And therefore," said Adeline, "it leaves us with one option for the source of the lie."

"Regulus," said Francis and Hermione, at the same time.

Hermione wasn't surprised, not really. For him to have told them would compromise him, in the case either of them weren't trustworthy. It was sensible to assume nobody could be trusted, when he was basically being a traitor, but it still stung a little bit.

Unless, she realised. Unless he thought that they would be interrogated after his death.

Balls, as Sirius would say. Balls.

"We will resolve this," said Adeline. She quickly looked around, and with a wave of her wand checked that the room was clear. When she was satisfied, she continued. "We must help Regulus to leave the Death Eaters."

"No offence," said Francis. "But how are you going to do that? Nobody leaves. You-Know-Who sort of takes personal care of that."

"I may be just seventeen, and my ambitions more focused on family and the home," said Adeline, drawing herself up to her full, not very large, height, "but I am not to be treated as insignificant. I do have some use."

"Your husband took the Mark at seventeen, I suppose."

"An act of which I did not approve."

"You said that to him, yet?"

"Persuasion is not so simple as saying what you wish for the other person to do. Is it?"

"No. Fucking hell, I told the bastard enough times."

Hermione did not think getting these two in the same room was a good idea.

"Perhaps we should allow Francis the recovery time, before we begin plotting how to rescue Regulus."

Because it was her job. All of this hinged on him going to that cave.

"You're talking like I agreed to be involved," said Francis.

"I believe that you already are," said Adeline. "My husband appears to have modified my memory to protect you. I do not think you could be much more involved, even if I do not understand exactly how."

"That's details," said Francis, attempting to wave his hand dismissively.

"I do understand what went on between the two of you. Perhaps Regulus believes that he Obliviated that from me, or perhaps he does not know what I knew."

"It's unfair to hex a man while he's down," said Francis. "And I couldn't be more down if I tried, unless I was dead."

"The Death Eaters know that you've survived," said Hermione. "I overheard the cousins talking of it."

"Almost like a spy, you are," said Francis. If only he knew what she did.

"What I am saying," she said, "is that we ought to be aware of the potential for reprisals. Or a second attack direct on you."

"No way they could get into St Mungo's, all wands firing," said Francis. "We should worry about Regulus."

"He won't do anything immediately," said Hermione. "And we had best get back, else Auntie Walburga will have questions. As will Regulus. I think we all believe it best if we do not tell him about this discussion."

"Obviously," said Francis. Adeline nodded.

They left St Mungo's, Adeline's face much paler than it had been when they walked in. Her hand shook slightly on her wand as she charmed the doors to open ahead of them.

"I do not know how we will explain our absence," she said.

"There's a new wizarding baby shop on Diagon Alley, isn't there?" asked Hermione. "If we go there and buy something, we can convince Auntie Walburga that we just simply had to go shopping."

"I like to think you would have been in Slytherin with me," said Adeline, taking Hermione's arm and linking it with hers. "Let's pretend to be two witches out to shop for baby things, as if we do not have any other concern."

If only, Hermione thought. If only it could be that easy.

They ended up with a crib, made of willow and imbued with charms for protection and safekeeping. Walburga was suitably impressed, if somewhat annoyed that Hermione hadn't apparently made enough time for some distant cousin that she hoped to marry her off to.

"I am so glad that you are showing such an interest in Regulus and Adeline's child," said Walburga. "I was beginning to think that you were the kind of witch that did not wish for children."

"I do want them," she said. Sirius had once said that he didn't, but she'd decided to deal with that at a later date.

"Well, I intend for you to have chosen your husband by the end of the year. You are twenty-four, that is far too old to be continuing to, well, wait for whoever it is you are waiting for. The wizards available will only decrease, or you will find yourself with a widower."

"I will choose when I am ready."

"You will choose by the end of the year, or your choice will be made for you."

Remus

August 1979, Grimsby

The people they'd rescued had been put in a safe house in Grimsby. Remus had been there once on holiday, and it was a place where nobody took much notice of yet another group of bedraggled, untidy people being herded from a train and onto a street. It was large enough to be anonymous, and small enough that nobody from outside cared much about what was going on there.

Perfect, in short.

Remus was careful in getting to the house. To turn up in the middle of a house full of confused Muggles would cause an outcry. Most of them were, entirely reasonably, wary of magic usage. Instead, he Apparated to Cleethorpes, just down the road, and boarded a Muggle bus. A couple of changes, just to confuse anyone who had managed to follow him this far, and then a short walk from the bus stop to a block of flats. You could see the docks from the top of them, but Remus wasn't really here for the view.

"Aconite," he said, at the door. He didn't like the password, but it was what it was.

"Hello," said the response, and the door swung open.

Helena was the perfect safe-house host. The kids caused enough chaos to mask any unusual noises from the flat, and she was kind to the people they had to put through the houses. Nobody in the Death Eaters had a clue who she was. And while Grimsby wasn't her choice of home, she put up with it well. She'd be on in a few weeks, anyway, to some other anonymous town.

"Remus. They're waiting for you. I'm going to take the kids down to the park, if that's alright, while you're gone. Neighbours think you've come to fix the boiler."

"That's the cover." He indicated his overalls and the canvas duffle bag he was holding. "Though I did try and persuade Moody that a van would be a better cover than the bus."

"You could be a skint plumber," she said, looking at the black bag with a raised eyebrow. "Most of them don't have a clue about Muggle things. Thankfully, I don't think the other side do, either."

"Less of an clue than Moody, even."

He left her to it, going into the living room. The women they'd rescued from the Death Eater's clutched were assembled in there, varying levels of fear on their faces. He didn't much like doing debriefs. James was better, or Peter, but they were both busy, and Marlene was dead, and Remus knew what he was supposed to be looking for.

"I'm sorry I'm going to have to drag up some things you don't want to think about today," he began, finding no seats free and choosing instead to sit on the floor. "I'm Remus Lupin. You might remember me from the night, well, you know."

"We know," said one of them. "Doubt we'll ever forget."

"You won't," he said. "Best you can hope for us to come to terms with what happened to you."

"Have you seen things like this before? Helena, the woman here, she won't tell us anything."

"More than you could imagine. She's right to. The more you know, the more dangerous it is for you. So that's my job. Tell you enough that you can make sense of what's happened, but not enough to traumatise you."

Another woman spoke. "Go on, then."

"Alright. So you'll know that we can do magic. There's a sizeable population of people in Britain who can do magic. Some of them don't much like people who can't. They're trying to do some fairly nasty things, and some of us are trying to stop them."

"You don't need to talk to us like children," said a third woman, with short, blonde hair and a thin nose. "We're all adults."

"Fine. So there's a war. Between the Death Eaters, who think magic should be restricted to those who come from families who already have magic, and the Order of the Phoenix, which I'm part of, who don't really care who has magic. As long as they don't try and kill people with it. Our government, the Ministry of Magic, says they're fighting the Death Eaters, but they're useless. The Death Eaters periodically attack families where there's a Muggle or a Muggleborn witch or wizard."

"And we are Muggles?"

"Yes. You are."

"Great. So some fucking idiots are trying to kill us, and nobody's telling us?"

"Basically. The Minister, our Prime Minister, effectively, to use Muggle terms, has spoken to yours, but not unsurprisingly, she doesn't want to do anything about it. Says it will scare people, which it will."

"She's unfit for office," said the blonde woman.

"Not a Tory, then," said Remus. "To be fair to Callaghan, for all his faults, he was slightly more receptive to doing something to protect you all."

"Definitely not a Tory," said the blonde woman.

"I voted for her," said another woman, near the back.

"This isn't a debate about politics," said Remus.

"How do you know about our politics, if you're not a, what was it?" asked the first woman who had spoken.

"My mother is a Muggle, and has a lot of opinions on politics."

"So Muggles can have magic kids?"

"Yes. My father is a wizard. Some people have two wizarding parents, some one, some none. And I've always believed they're all as good as each other, but like I said, some people don't. Anyway. I'm explaining all of this because we're trying to prevent what happened to you happening to anyone else. I'm going to have to ask you if you can tell us anything that would help that. Then we can try and get you all out of here. It can be quite dangerous returning you to your families, so we're going to be collecting each of your families, and then hiding you collectively. Hopefully, the war will be over soon, and you'll be able to return to your lives."

"And if it isn't? I don't want to stay in hiding for years. I'll hide for a few months if I really need to, but then I'm going home." The Tory folded her arms.

"I'm not sure you understand. The other side will find you. They will kill you."

"I can hide myself."

"You probably could, if you were hiding from other Muggles. I don't doubt you."

"Why us?" asked the blonde woman.

"The only link we can find between all of you is that all of you possess a relative who was born to magical parents, but didn't possess their own magic. Squibs, they're called, but it isn't a very nice term."

"My father was a Squib," said of them. A ginger girl in her mid-twenties, he'd estimate. "I didn't know, until my sister got a letter to go to a school called Hogwarts. For witches and wizards. He ripped it up and set fire to it, said no kid of his was going to have magic."

"That would not be an extreme reaction. Squibs are somewhat outcast from our world, even in the kindest of families." It was a story he felt like he had heard before.

"So what were they going to do with us?"

"That's what we don't really know." He tried to smile in a way that suggested kindliness and concern, not incompetence. "I'd like to know what happened to you all, while you were in there. Everything, even if it's seems inconsequential, it might help us here."

He gathered much inconsequential information over the course of an hour and a half, but a few nuggets that might be useful. That added to the picture, at any rate. Remus was starting to think that he might have worked out what was going on, but he didn't want to believe his own judgement on that.

"They took a couple of us off," said the ginger girl. "There was more of us at the start. I think we lost three, didn't we?"

"Four," corrected the blonde. "There was another before you got there. They disappeared off into a separate room and they didn't come back."

"We don't know what they were doing. There wasn't any noise."

"Thanks," he said to them all, when he'd got what he could. It seemed like they knew nothing, or nothing that they hadn't already worked out for themselves. But it had to be done. "I know it's a bit cramped here, but we'll have you out in the next day or so. We'll be moving you gradually. I think there will be somebody here to start moving you on in about an hour."

He went into the kitchen, where Helena had the kids eating cheese sandwiches.

"Alright?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"I'll be glad to see the back of this place," she said, waving her hand at the window. "Where am I next time?"

"You'll have to wait for Moody to tell you that," Remus replied. "I'm not allowed to know unless I'm visiting. I don't know where these people are off to, even."

"Makes sense. Dangerous world out there."

"Yeah."

"I worry, you know. My mum was killed last December, and she'd never done anything to draw attention to herself. But she was a Muggleborn, so, boom."

"I never knew that. I'm sorry."

"She died trying to save my kids. It was all luck. Thankfully her neighbours turned out to be magical, and they helped. Your girlfriend was there, I think."

"Philomena?"

"Yes, her. Peter told me that you were seeing her. Her and her housemates came out and started fighting the Death Eaters. She looked after my little ones until I was able to get there."

Philomena had never mentioned anything like that. Had she? Remus paid attention. He always did.

"Philomena Prewett? Are you sure?"

"I've seen her since. With Peter, who of course persuaded me to join your lot. She's a nice girl." Helena stooped to pick up a piece of sandwich that had been hurled across the floor by the smallest child. "Nice, please, you lot. I have to say she's nice, I owe these lot to her and her friends."

"What were their names?" She'd been with that Lovegood girl when they first met, and some big bloke who'd been killed.

"I don't know the blonde one. The other girl was Hermione, I wrote to her a few times. And the bloke was Sirius. Mum claimed he was Sirius Black, you know, the one from the Order, but that must be a lie, because I asked him."

"Asked him what?"

"If he was living in a house in Saltburn-by-Sea with three young witches, of course. He said he wasn't, but sometimes he wished he was. Are you alright, Remus? You're looking peaky. Do you need me to fetch you anything? I've got stores of all the basic first-aid potions here, or Muggle remedies if you prefer?"

"I'm fine," he said. "Just a tension headache. It's been a long day, and, well, what I'm investigating isn't pleasant."

"No," she said. "I don't know as much as you do, of course, but it sounds horrible. Do you think Moody's right? That it's some kind of experimentation?"

"I do."

He wasn't going to go into detail, not with the oldest of Helena's kids looking at him with so much curiosity. He'd tell her later, perhaps, or not. Moody was becoming increasingly keen on security and on people only having information on a need to know basis. He wasn't even sure if he was allowed to tell Philomena.

But apparently there were things she wasn't telling him.

And the story the ginger girl had told, about the father who had been a Squib and torn up a witch daughter's Hogwarts letter, that was her story. Wasn't it?

He wanted to go back and talk to that woman again, but he didn't have time.

"I'd better be going," he said. "Emmeline will be along in about half an hour to start evacuating you all out. You'll be last, of course."

"Keep safe," she said.

"And you."

He met James and Peter at the corner of Knockturn Alley and Diagon. They were supposed to be collecting some basic intel on one of the people suspected to be a Death Eater, but Remus couldn't focus. He just couldn't.

"Go home," James finally snapped. "You're less use than Mundungus Fletcher. Pete and I can handle this."

Remus went.

"Pub later," said Sirius, supremely unconcerned by Remus' lack of focus. It was hardly surprising. Sirius veered between a nervous wreck and entirely oblivious to the dangers of war, with no warning when he flicked between the two. "Prewett's coming. So's Phil, or other Prewett as she's now called. And a few others."

"I've got to finish up the reports for Albus," Remus said, though it was faint objections. He didn't have the concentration.

"We've got to live a bit," Sirius said. "Even in all of this."

Remus was living. He'd had a girlfriend since March. He loved her. He was becoming less and less sure that he knew who she was, but she accepted him and she loved him, and who was he to question her past, really? He had his friends. Marlene had died, yes, but the rest of them had made it this far.

And it wasn't his fault that he struggled to live the way that Sirius wanted him when he had so many unanswered questions.

"You don't remember an attack in a place called Saltburn, do you?"

Sirius pulled his thinking face. "No," he said, after a while. "I don't. There's been so many, hasn't there, that one could slip through the cracks. But no, I don't remember one. Why?"

"Been talking to Helena Bridlington."

"Oh, yeah, that. She's convinced someone was there using my name, but only because of rumour from her mum. I reckon someone didn't want everyone to know who they were, so used a fake name." He fluffed up his hair, a tic stolen from James. "Obviously they'd use mine. I'm attractive, clever, and good in an emergency."

"You're not," said Remus. "You're a showboating idiot who didn't get very good OWLs."

"Genius is not constricted by examinations," said Sirius.

Remus wasn't in the mood for this kind of talk.

"Besides," said Sirius. "You're afraid of cows. In a cow based emergency, I am the superior choice."

"Put your fucking shoes on."

"You coming to the pub?" Philomena asked, when Remus had got past Sirius and into the room he now had for his own, having abandoned Peter in their old shared room. James' stuff still dominated the space, or the things Lily had refused to allow in their home. It was mostly Quidditch memorabilia and paraphernalia, and the odd item of clothing. "It seems Sirius has decided we're having a night out, and I'm too lazy to argue. Got something I need to do at St Mungo's first, though. Bit time-sensitive."

"What?"

"You'll see when you get there. I can't tell you before."

"No. There's a lot of stuff people don't tell me."

"Oh, Remus," she said, getting up from the bed and going to wrap her arms around him. "You know what it's like. Moody'll come up behind us and declare instant death on us all if we're not careful."

"Did you used to live with another bloke?"

"Are you asking me to move in with you? It's not that I don't like the idea, in the future, but we've only been going out a few months. It feels a bit soon."

"No." Not that he wasn't flattered by the fact that she'd consider moving in with him in the future. She'd basically said that, hadn't she? Not here, though. Not with Sirius and Peter around. Just the two of them would be better.

It wasn't what he'd been asking, though.

"Helena Bridlington says you helped save her children, when her mum was killed. With a man who claimed to be Sirius Black."

"No idea. I think she's confusing me with somebody else. She's said things like that before to me. There's thousands of Prewett cousins, we breed almost as much as Weasleys, so it was probably another one of those."

It was slightly later, on the way to the hospital, that he realised none of the stories made any sense when you put them together.

Regulus

August 1979, Grimmauld Place

His brother was a difficult man to locate.

Regulus supposed that he had learnt from a master. Grimmauld Place was next to impossible to find, thanks to their father and his desire for secrecy and security. Regulus had often assumed him to be pushing the boundaries of paranoia. At this moment, he was grateful for it.

"Adeline, you should invite your family to visit us here," he said. "It is dangerous out in the world, these days, and I would prefer it if I knew you were safe."

She gave him a withering stare.

"I will do as I see fit, and you will do as you see fit."

She returned to her book. Something on the care of babies. Not going back to Hogwarts, her attentions had turned to this new role. And she suited it, he thought, but he did not know if she was happy.

His Dark Mark burned. He left.

It was not what he saw fit, but he could hardly do otherwise yet.

The Dark Lord was in a fretful mood. He was as still as he ever was in body, but his eyes roamed the room that he had chosen as his lair. A darkened room, with the velvet drapes pulled shut. Lamps burned, giving an eerie light glowing from behind the Dark Lord, sat as he was in a chair more akin to a throne. A two-handled golden cup sat at his side, more trophy than drinking vessel.

"Regulus, my faithful servant."

Regulus bowed his head, low and respectful, and controlled his thoughts as best as he could.

"My Lord."

"I am in need of an elf. I believe your family owns house elves, do they not?"

"We have one, my Lord. But does Bellatrix not own some? You have them at your disposal here, do you not?"

"Are you questioning the Dark Lord? No, perhaps that is genuine. Bella's elves are somewhat indisposed, I am afraid, Regulus. I am in need of one to help on my quest. And you have proven yourself loyal."

Regulus took a deep breath, his hand quavering. He did not much like Kreacher. And nor did he much like the sound of this.

"Kreacher will be delighted to be of service to the Dark Lord." Kreacher would, as ever, do what Regulus asked of him.

"Thank you, Regulus. You are always of so much help to me. I cannot promise I will return your elf in the condition you will give him to me, but then, some sacrifices are worth it for the greater cause, are they not?"

"They are."

"Thank you, Regulus. I will require Severus, now."

Regulus went home. He walked the floor again, that pacing that he so abhorred of himself. Adeline was in the drawing room, discussing names for the baby with his mother. Pollux, in his study. Arcturus would have been somewhere, no doubt, and his father, but they were not of use now.

He could stay. He could continue to do this, for the sake of the baby. It was the only way.

"Kreacher," he said. The elf appeared with a crack, his usual simpering expression on his face. "I have need of you."

"Whatever young master needs, whatever he needs, Kreacher will do it."

"The Dark Lord has need of an elf. Go to him. Be useful. Do as he asks, as if he was your master." And Regulus had a thought, a terrible one. "And come home, Kreacher. When he has done what he has need of you for, come home."

"Kreacher does as young master wishes, yes he does, Kreacher is proud to serve." The elf disappeared, the noise making Regulus wince.

He resumed his pacing.

He did not want to serve the Dark Lord, because serving the Dark Lord would mean continued requests to kill his brother.

He did not want to leave the Dark Lord, because he could not stay hidden forever. He could not keep his family hidden forever. Someone would die.

It was four in the morning, and Regulus had scarcely slept, when a cracking noise awoke him. Downstairs. Kreacher, unmistakably.

The elf was on the floor in the kitchen, shaking and convulsing as if he would not live much longer. Regulus got down beside him, because the elf's mouth was moving, but there was no noise to be heard from the height that Regulus stood at.

"Kreacher came home, young master. Kreacher came home."

"Thank you, Kreacher." Regulus could not remember an occasion upon which he had thanked the elf. "Where did he take you?"

Kreacher swallowed, as if unable to answer, his eyes widening at the question and the shaking increasing.

"A cave, young master. Horrible, dark cave, with many dark creatures. Kreacher could sense them, yes he could. They stayed below the surface. He had Kreacher drink a potion. Nasty, dark potion. Made Kreacher remember horrible things, young master, it did. Kreacher did not want to drink, but young master said to obey, so Kreacher drank. He, the Dark Lord, dropped a locket in the base of the thing. He left. And Kreacher, Kreacher came home, young master. Kreacher came home."

A locket.

That was what it was, then. Regulus had known, had he not? A Horcrux, that thing, a portion of a soul ripped screaming from a body by the destruction of another soul.

Hidden somewhere away to keep the Dark Lord alive. To make him immune to death. Immortal.

It was not as if it was unheard of to use a Horcrux. They were dark magic, indeed. Very dark. And as such, they were not commonplace. But it had, at one point, been something that was done. The Dark Lord was treading a path that others before him had trodden. He was no more power-hungry than any other who had sought to make themselves immortal and gather followers.

And yet it still did not appear to be something that Regulus could condone.

"Kreacher," he said. "Stay hidden. Do not leave the house. Go to your cupboard, the loft, somewhere. Do not allow yourself to be found, even by the family. Mistress Bella, Mother, anyone. Do you understand, Kreacher? This is an order."

The elf still shook, his eyes widening in fear.

"Kreacher understands, Master Regulus. Kreacher will do as you command."

"Good. There may be much riding on this, Kreacher. Go."

The elf disappeared. Regulus was left to his thoughts and to his decisions.

The Dark Lord had assumed that Kreacher would die there. He had left him for dead. So the chances of him finding out that he was here, of what Regulus knew, were minimal. Bellatrix could not force Kreacher to disobey a direct order from Regulus. He would be safe, and if he remained safe then so was Regulus' knowledge of the situation.

The Dark Lord was immortal, and he would kill as many purebloods as he wished, and Regulus did not want to follow him any more.

But one did not leave the employ of the Dark Lord.

He knew enough of Occlumency and the mind magics to remain safe in his presence for a while longer. But with every passing day it became less likely that he would be able to continue his deception.

Perhaps this was another reason he should talk with Sirius.

"I do not know what has come over you," said his mother, the following day, on leaving Malfoy Manor. "I did not bring you up to behave like that!"

He had not been attentive at the lunch with Narcissa and Abraxas Malfoy, no. Several times he had been forced to ask somebody to repeat the question they were asking of him. It was not the worst behaviour. It was not as Sirius would have behaved.

It was not as if he was seeking to make himself immortal.

"I am sorry, mother," he said.

"Is everything alright?" Lyra asked him. She had appeared agitated, too, Regulus recalled, but that was perhaps due to the constant talk of her potential suitors.

"I am merely busy at work," he said. She did not press the point, thankfully. He had come close enough to telling her far more than she needed to know already.

His mind did not care for work problems or the impending marriage of his cousin to some pure blooded wizard or other. It was solely focused on planning what in Merlin's name he ought to do next.

Talk to Sirius. That was what kept creeping to the forefront of his mind. He could rationalise that his brother could not solve the problem. He had, after all, recently tried to murder Sirius. But it was all that he had, and a glass of Firewhisky later it was still all that he had, and so he was forced to follow the instinct. However faulty it may prove to be.

He tracked his brother down to a pub the that evening, a seedy one in a wizarding backstreet of Manchester. The entire thing was grim; dark and dirty and nasty, as if it had never seen daylight or the touch of a house elf. Regulus steeled himself before entering. It was not somewhere he wished to go.

The one positive attribute this bar held was that he would not be found by one of his associates. They would not set foot here.

Sirius was at the bar, laughing with that Prewett girl next to him, the one who had killed Lucius. The werewolf was alongside them, holding hands with the girl. Others joined them, and they made their way to a table in the depths of the pub.

"Regulus?" asked Sirius, catching sight of him standing there. "If you come any closer, I'll curse you."

"Lads, lads, calm it," said one of Sirius' companions, a tall man whose hair matched that of the werewolf's girl. Another Prewett. A good family, in the main, if sorely misguided in recent years. Blood traitors, they had become.

A blood traitor as he supposed he was.

"Sirius, please," he said. "I would speak with you. In private."

"Whatever you want to say, you can say to this lot, too."

"Sirius, you might want to reconsider," said the werewolf. Remus Lupin, his name was. He stepped forwards, putting himself clearly in charge.

"I'm not going off alone with him," said Sirius, his eyes narrowed and his hand on his wand. "I know Voldemort wants him to kill me, I'm not fucking stupid enough to give him an easy chance."

"Sirius," said the Prewett girl. "Think about it. Does he look like a man who wants to kill you?"

And Regulus knew that he did not. His robes had a stain of blood on the hem, which Sirius had surely noticed by the way his eyes flicked down Regulus' body. He had not slept more than five hours the previous night, and he had not had the time to arrange his hair. And the face he had seen when he had washed it in the mirror; that was not his face. It was the face of a madman.

Sirius just grunted. "He tried before. Twice."

"Pads, sort it. If you won't speak to him, I will." The werewolf sounded as if he was bored, but he had the look of a wolf preparing to pounce. Regulus supposed that it was in his nature.

"I want to speak to my brother," said Regulus, as firmly as he could. "You are a," and he checked himself, "you are a friend of Sirius', it is true, but it is my brother I wish to talk with."

"Nice catch," nodded Lupin, and turned to Sirius. "Your move, Sirius. He's not cursed anyone yet, he's got that to his credit."

They muttered amongst themselves, Sirius and Lupin and the girl Prewett and the other Prewett, and a few others butting in behind. They all cared for his brother, that much was apparent. They liked him, as a person. This brash, defiant, irrational blood traitor of a brother had friends, despite everything that he had done, and Regulus had Francis, who still yet may die, and people he had considered inferior, and Adeline. Lyra, perhaps. His mother.

"Alright," said Sirius, finally. "I'll talk to you. Outside. But I'm bringing Remus."

"And me," said the girl.

"Phil," said Lupin, in a warning tone.

"Remus," she said, in the exact same voice.

They make their way to the outside of the pub, and down into a quiet alley between some shops and the back of a row of houses. Regulus shivered. He'd killed someone in one of those houses, once, in the name of the Dark Lord.

"Sirius," he said, turning to his brother in the back doorway of a shop. The door was purple, and the paint was peeling. "I want your help. I want to help you."

"Now there's a first," said Sirius. "To kill more innocents? You know I'm never going to come back into the family, so it can't be that. And mother and father wouldn't allow it. You have more money than me. So what could it be?"

"I wish to know how to get out," said Regulus. He thought about running, Apparating, getting away from this alley that stank of human waste. His instinct had been wrong before. Sirius could not be the answer, but he could warn him. "They are trying to kill you. They want you dead, whether I do it or not. They will kill me if I do not kill you."

"Out of what?" said his brother, and then his tone changed. "You want out? Out?"

"Quietly!" Regulus' palms were sweating, he looked over his shoulder.

"I think he's telling the truth," said Lupin. "Look at him, Sirius."

"Philomena?" asked Sirius.

The girl shifted on her feet, and put her hands to her mouth. "Sirius, I, I don't know."

"I… Sirius, please," Regulus knew this was his best hope. "Sirius. Adeline is expecting. We are to have a child. Please, Sirius, if you will not do this for me, then do it for the baby. I beg of you." And, ignoring the puddle of something he did not want to know what, he knelt on the floor at his brother's feet. "I cannot do this any longer."

Lupin pulled him to his feet, just as the wet began to seep into Regulus' robes. "Get up, you idiot, for Merlin's sake, that's piss. Or at least I think it is, and I don't want to know for certain. Sirius, we're going to help him, I don't care what you say."

"He tried to kill me," said Sirius. "This is a war."

"And we must not forget," Lupin countered, "that was are all still people. No matter who we thought it best to follow, we are human."

Funny, that, Regulus thought, that the beast would be the one to say something of that sort.

The man continued. "Would you prefer it if we sent him on his way, and in the fucking fear of being killed by Voldemort for insubordination he actually did kill you, or me, or Phil, or James, perhaps? Help the man, Pads. He's your brother."

"Your brother," echoed Philomena, her hands now crumpling her robes into balls. "He's your brother. But what if this was a trick?"

"Exactly!" said Sirius, pacing up and down the narrow alleyway. "He could be trying to get to a safe house so he can kill us all!"

"You're a shit judge of human nature if you can't see that he's being honest," said Lupin.

"Do not take me then," said Regulus, as he formulated a plan. "Take Adeline, and look after her, and the child when it comes. I do not need to be saved, but they do." He thought of Francis, and he thought of what Adeline would look like if she was in the same position, her belly swollen with child and her voice croaking his name in the way that Francis' had done. "Save them."

"We'll do that," said Philomena. "We should do that, at least." Her voice cracked, and she would not make eye contact with anyone in the alley.

"It's a trap," said Sirius. "I can't shake that it might be a trap." His eyes went wide, and, suddenly, he kicked out at the wall. "What has it come to that I can't even trust my own fucking brother!"

And Regulus knew, that whatever blame he had apportioned to his brother for this, some of it also resided with him.

"Please," was all he could say. He had an awful lot of regrets, in recent days.

"Meet us tomorrow at this pub," said Lupin. "Same time. We'll talk to the others, and see what we can do."

Regulus nodded, and then was left standing there alone as the others filed past him. Sirius with his distrust, the Prewett girl with her uncertainty, and the werewolf with his unreadable expression.

He could not rely upon them. The werewolf was the only one who wished to help him, and the word of a werewolf was not to be taken highly. They would listen to Sirius and the Prewett girl over him, they were both of good birth. And they did not seem to want to assist. But he would push them to take Adeline and the baby to safety, at least, he would do that for them. Whether or not someone was willing to save him.

He did not believe that he could trust his brother.

He did not want to go home, but it was the safest place for him to be, and so he did. Adeline sat in the sitting room, and, because he did not want to appear as if there was something wrong, he sat with her.

"I have been to see the Healer. The baby is doing well, she says. He or she will be born in April."

"A Spring baby," he said. "It will be perfect."

Regulus did not believe that he would be around to see the baby born.

She went to bed, and once again he was the only one awake in the house. It was a house that so often felt claustrophobic, with almost every relative he possessed living or regularly staying within its confines. There was always somebody who would wish to speak to you, even when you were engaged in something, always somebody to talk to if you wanted conversation. And tonight it felt as if he was the only person to have lived here. Isolated and alone.

He did not want to follow the Dark Lord.

He did not want Sirius to die.

He did not want to endanger Adeline and the baby, his parents, Narcissa, Lyra.

He did not want to further endanger Francis.

He had no clear idea of how he could manage all of that. Sirius would not come through, of that he was certain, but perhaps his warning would be enough. Perhaps they would listen to the Lupin. Perhaps something good would come of whatever was to happen next.

It was then that Lyra burst through the door.

"Regulus!" she shouted, her face puffy. "Regulus!"

"What is it, Lyra?" From nowhere a sinking feeling began to settle into his stomach.

"It's Francis," she said. "My cousin. Your friend. He's dead."

"How?" It did not matter, did it?

"I don't know. I went to see him, and they said he was dead!"

"I must go." He did not care if it was rude, if it was against the ways he had been taught to behave. He left her standing there, in the centre of the room, and he went to Sirius' bedroom.

It stood as a shrine to his brother, exactly as he had left it all those years before when he had left the family. Regulus sat on the bed. What would Sirius do, he wondered. What action would his brother take?

There was a locket on the table. It was catching sight of that which gave him an idea, a mad idea, an idea that was doomed to fail no doubt.

The Horcrux.

He would have to die, after all. He must. But he would die to do what he could.

What he must, perhaps. That was what he had said in the past, that long ago Regulus that seemed almost a different person. He would do what he must.

This was his end.