There was no solution, no answer, and Regulus's frustration was growing in tandem with Severus's despair.

"You don't trust me," Regulus accused him.

"I do-"

"Then prove it,'' he demanded.

"You don't trust me that I can't?" Severus asked him, pained.

"Frankly, no, I do not. The whole thing sounds ridiculous," Regulus said, and cruelly suggested: "Maybe my brother did not do anything to you."

"I will do anything for you, Reg. But I cannot tell you. Don't be cross with me, please."

Regulus wore Severus's father's expression on Sirius's features – it was the stuff of nightmares. Suddenly, he seemed to have had an idea, and he relaxed. "I'm not cross with you. Come here."

Severus came over to him, and Reg put one hand on his cheek and another through his hair, and as he held up his face and kissed him, he felt Severus's body getting excited in the heat of passion and longing. He licked the length of his neck and Severus's hand clutched at his robe. He stopped abruptly and looked at Severus looking at him with confusion, biting his lips, dying for more, not daring to ask. The dark eyes, like pools reflecting the night sky, seemed to ask him "Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?" Regulus had to admit he enjoyed it. "My turn," he said playfully, and as Severus busied himself with his body, Regulus told himself that soon he would get it all out of him, whether he wanted him to or not.

"And… that's it. Veritaserum."

Severus wiped his hand on his forehead.

"Excellent," Regulus proclaimed. "Ironically, I was not entirely truthful, I do not need to write an essay about it or demonstrate it before the class."

"Then why did you ask me to show you how…"

"I love watching you work, for one. I knew you would make it perfectly, and I intend to use it."

"You do? On who?"

"Drink up".

Regulus expected Severus to resist, but to his surprise, he looked him straight in the eye and poured everything down his throat at once.

"Do you love me?" Regulus asked.

"Yes," Severus answered him, as if he was confirming what day of the week it was.

"Do you trust me?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"You don't know me, or you're being stupid, you will hate me like they all do in the end."

"I am not stupid, and I won't. Do you want to tell me?"

"More than anything, Reg."

Regulus had to ask something he knew would make Severus uncomfortable – he had to make sure the potion was working.

"How did you get your scars?"

"My father hates magic. He drinks and he whips us."

Good. Severus had never actually said it plainly before. The potion was working.
"You are hurting me, Reg."

"I need to know it's working. What did my brother do to you?"

The next words out of Severus's mouth were an incoherent mess, and his eyes started to twitch. "The Shrieking Shack, it's… AAHHH! They're keeping, no, make it stop, he-" (as his entire face was a series of tics, his hand covered his mouth and he forcibly removed it with the other one) "Dumbledore, and the monster, and Sirius-"

Then it was over.

The boy Regulus loved collapsed and shook, and nearly swallowed his own tongue, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he was covered in cold sweat.

Regulus picked him up and carried him to the hospital wing, and when Pomfrey asked him what the hell had happened, he yelled out "Veritaserum" and collapsed to catch his breath. After minutes – eternities – of her working her damndest to put him to sleep, she said: "it is not supposed to have this effect, but he did respond to the antidote."

"What does it mean?"

"I am not at liberty to say, Mr. Black".

At night, he crawled back into the bed where his love was, unconscious, limp. What he had done to him had nearly killed him, and he whispered, "I'm sorry, and I love you, I love you, please don't die."

When he woke up, Severus was still unconscious. He realized he should have used the serum on his brother instead, but the sleeping idiot next to him had drank the whole thing.

This definitely felt like the worst thing Regulus had ever done, and he had no one to take his guilt and anger out on. He knew he was never getting his nasty brother alone, not even in the summer, because he had finally got himself kicked out of the house forever. He would have to get him in public, and he did not care how many points this would cost him or how many detentions. He almost made me kill him .

But with his gang with him all the time… What a coward, his brother was. Where dwell the brave of heart indeed, and the family disowning hypocrites who pretend to love Muggles but commit unspeakable horror on half-bloods, who claim that being a Black doesn't matter to them but don't hesitate to reap the benefits of the family name, who then move on to become honorary Potters – he would not consider living like a Muggle, would he?

He heard his brother launch into a tirade about Muggleborn rights again, and shouted across the Great Hall: "The muggles are savages. What do you know about them?"

"What do you know?" Sirius shouted back.

"Oh, I have seen their work, dear brother."

Lily chimed in, asked what he was talking about – "be quiet, mudblood!" He hissed at her – she was just another one of the worthless people who hurt Severus, she was why he could not even call him "Sev", and as far as Regulus was concerned, she was to remain a mudblood until she apologized.

"Go to hell, Regulus," Black yelled, and the teachers broke them apart before they came to blows. Regulus resented this to no end - barring a conscious Severus, the thing he wanted most to see was his brother sporting a couple of bruises.

Of course he got detention. Of course he did not care.

He was tasked with arranging books in the library – dull, pointless work, easily achievable by magic, but he was forced to do it all by hand like a mindless Muggle… Including a book entitled "Magic of the mind". The task suddenly did not seem so dull. He opened the book and quickly found out that there was a way Severus could tell him without speaking. If , he reminded himself with a heavy heart, he ever wakes up.