Author's note: Gah! I'm sorry it's been so long! I've been super busy at school! Hope this chapter makes up for it! Thanks leahstypewriter for being my editor!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Chapter 13: Shacking Up

February 7th, 1979

"It's just a bit further," Des assured Regulus as she guided him along a beaten, forested path. Regulus had never been this deep into the woods surrounding Hogsmeade before. It was quite tranquil, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something—or someone—was lurking. Des abruptly stopped, causing Regulus to crash into her. He grabbed her arm to steady her before she fell. "Sorry!" he yelped.

"Shhhhh," Des hushed him as she glanced around the area, cocking her head from side to side. How she could see anything through the dense layer of trees, Regulus didn't know. After a few moments, when Des was satisfied that they were alone, she pulled out her wand and pointed it at the ground. The earth before them trembled and shifted, and Regulus realized that a flat, dirt-covered stone was sliding away, revealing a hole in the ground beneath. Des looked around once more, then lowered herself onto the ground and shimmied through the opening, feet first. Regulus figured he'd better follow.

The hole in the ground dropped them down into a small, cramped tunnel. Regulus had to double over to avoid hitting his head on the stone ceiling. Des raised her wand at the hole once more, and the stone slid back into place, sealing them in darkness.

"Lumos," Des whispered, and the tip of her wand ignited in bright, white light. Eerie shadows danced across her face as she spoke. "Follow me," she ordered.

Lighting his own wand, Regulus obeyed. After about a five-minute walk/crawl, Regulus noticed that the tunnel was beginning to widen and slope upwards. Des put her wand out and stuck it in the back pocket of her jeans. She pushed upwards on the ceiling in front of her, and it creaked open. It was a trap door. Following her through the doorway, Regulus emerged into a small, ransacked room. Destroyed furniture was strewn every which way. Claw marks marred the floor and walls. Chair and couch stuffing littered every surface. Slate-grey wallpaper peeled off of the walls, revealing rotted wooden panels beneath. The scent of musk and mold hung heavy in the air, making is difficult to breathe. Des did not seem fazed by their surroundings, and began to turn two overturned armchairs upright.

"Where are we, Des?"

"The Shrieking Shack," said Des, nonchalantly.

"How did you…?" Regulus had so many questions. Des had done many things that had surprised him, but this probably took the cake.

She shrugged. "Fifth year. Wilhelmina and I were exploring. She tripped over the entrance and found it." Des noticed the fear in Regulus's eyes. "Don't worry, we only came here the one time. Plus, the Hogsmeade villagers say it's been silent for about a year now. I reckon we're safe enough. And alone." She sat down in one of the old chairs and waited for Regulus to do the same.

"Now," she said, looking at him analytically—wearing the same expression she so often did when trying to solve a complicated problem, or figure out how something worked, "Spill."

Regulus had barely told Des half of what had happened, yet, she still looked like she'd seen a ghost. Which, given that they were in the most haunted building in Britain, could have been entirely possible.

"You-Know-Who, Reg?! You-Know-Bloody-Who?! In your house?" Des cried. Regulus nodded, rolling his eyes. She'd repeated these words about a hundred times since he'd first told her. She shook her head in disbelief, yet again. "Are you sure?"

"Oh no, Des. Maybe it was some other all-powerful, ultra-famous Dark Wizard with red eyes and no nose, and I just got them mixed up," Regulus deadpanned. He was becoming frustrated. He had only told Des that Voldemort had visited him and was asking for a favor. He'd omitted his prior conversation with Narcissa, as well as poor Kreacher's report. If this was her reaction to the water-downed version of the tale, what would she think of the real truth: that Regulus feared Voldemort was trying to—and had perhaps succeeded at—becoming immortal?

"You're right, you're right. I'm sorry. I'm just…shocked," Des relented.

"Well, it is a bit shocking when the Dark Lord comes knocking at your door," Regulus drawled sarcastically. "I mean, how are you supposed to know whether to offer him Earl Grey or English Breakfast?"

"Reg, this is serious," Des said, uncharacteristically scolding his attempts at humor. "And, you think he was trying to perform some dark spell? Which one?"

"Merlin, I know it's serious, Des! And, I've told you, I don't know…" he half-lied. "That's why I've been researching nonstop. Trying to figure out his plan. But there's no spell I've come across that fits with what I know."

Des leaned forward, elbows on her knees. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if trying to force her brain to reveal the answer. "Hm…what about Inferi? Raising Inferi is one of the darkest forms of magic I can think of," she suggested.

Regulus considered her suggestion. Though creating Inferi was one method dark wizards used to bring people back from the dead, he doubted Voldemort would try to use the spell to keep himself alive. From what Regulus remembered from Death Eater training, Inferi were pretty much useless beyond their capabilities as weapons. They were empty vessels, living only by the loosest definition of the word. He shook his head. "That's a good idea, but I don't think that's it. I think…I mean…I don't know…" Regulus paused, phrasing his next question carefully. "Do you think it's possible to live forever?"

Des looked at him like he was mad. "No way, Reg. The only person who's figured that out is Nicholas Flamel, and even his way is flawed: dependent on a stone and a potion…" she paused, racking her brain. "No. As far as I'm aware, there's no form of magic that could preserve the soul in the living body for that long. Remember what Professor McGonagall told us in Transfiguration? 'Though you can shift the body and change its form, the body-soul unit remains untarnished and always binds the limits of Human Transfiguration. No matter how one changes itself, the body and soul set limits. Eventually the witch or wizard is forced to return to their original state.' That's why you can't transfigure yourself to become younger to evade death. There are limits."

"I guess that's true," Regulus said, impressed she had remembered that complicated lesson. He'd been staring out the window at that time. Still, he was certain that evading death was precisely what Voldemort was trying to do. But how?

"I still don't understand, though," Des pressed. "I mean, you're only seventeen. Why would You-Know-Who come to you? You're barely of age! I mean, you're not even a proper Death Eater!" Her brow furrowed. She tapped her thighs with her hands, thinking.

A pit formed in Regulus's stomach. He knew there would be a time when he would the exact extent of his involvement with the Death Eaters. It was now or never. Regulus was going to have to tell her about the mark. Sighing, he fixed his eyes upon hers. He gripped the cuff of his left sleeve and yanked it up, exposing the tattooed skin on his forearm. Des quietly gasped.

"I told you I am ashamed of who I was. How I followed my family without question. That I have a lot of mistakes to answer for, and that I was lost and confused for a long time. The Dark Lo—He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—thought I was…talented…and well connected. And my cousin was already working for Him. He chose me. And, before I truly realized what He wanted me to do, what lengths He would go to for his cause…I…" Regulus couldn't finish. A lump had formed in his throat, threatening to choke him. He continued to stare into Des's wide eyes, determined. He wouldn't run away from his past. He would confess everything to her. She deserved that much.

Des leaned forward, slowly. Carefully, as if she were handling an armed bomb, she took his outstretched, exposed forearm in her hands. She stared at the mark for a long time, not saying a word. She ran her thumb up and down the length of it, careful not to brush the ink that would summon the Dark Lord to their very position. Regulus sat as still as a statue, watching her watch him.

"War is really coming, isn't it?" Des asked quietly. Regulus was surprised at the innocence of her question. He didn't respond. He knew she knew the answer.

Des dropped his arm. He saw no tears in her eyes, nor any fear. "I don't know what I thought. That none of this was real? That everything would be solved by the time we left Hogwarts? That we would get to live normal lives?" She laughed cynically. "But that," she referred to his Dark Mark, "is definitely real."

Regulus's heart raced. But he would not back down. He was sick of being a coward. That's what got him into this mess to begin with. "It's real. I let it happen. And I regret it every day. It won't come off, I've tried everything I can think of. But, it reminds me each day that I need to do better. That I need to be better. Lest I make the same mistakes that led me to where I am today."

"Regulus Black," Des said suddenly, "you're an idiot."

Regulus was taken aback. "E-excuse me?"

"You heard me. Idiot," Des said, though she was smiling softly. "There, I had to rage against you a bit for getting that idiotic tattoo. Now that that's out of the way, I can help you figure out a way out of the mess you've gotten yourself into."

"Des, it's not that simple, and I—"

"Merlin's balls, I know it's not that simple! But that's it, isn't it? That's how I know you are the better person you've been striving to be. Because, even though it's not easy—in fact, it's probably one of the most difficult things to do—you're trying to fix it. You're trying to stop You-Know-Who's plans, you're trying to remove the mark that's bound you to him… Merlin, you even risked your life to fight against your former Death Eater colleagues to save my muggle family who you'd only known for a few hours! If you think I'm not going to do all that I can to help you out of the mess you've gotten yourself into, then you don't know me at all." Des's words were fierce, her blue eyes flooded with determination and loyalty.

"Des, I…" Regulus tried to speak. There was so much he wanted to say. "You never cease to surprise me."

Regulus and Des were extremely close, leaning forward in their chairs. Regulus shifted infinitesimally closer, wondering if he should allow himself to do what he'd been thinking of doing ever since she'd comforted him in the hospital. Before he could commit to making another move, however, she placed a hand on his cheek, stopping his advance.

"I said that I thought we could have normal lives. But… with all that's going on," she sighed, "I don't see that happening."

Regulus knew she was right. "I know. Too much baggage. But that doesn't mean I don't want to…have a normal life," he insinuated before slumping back into his chair. He saw her hand begin to move, and her odd nervous finger-tapping had commenced.

"Well, you never know. Maybe this will all end. Someday. But for now…" she trailed off. She clenched her hands into fists, and the tapping ceased.

"For now," Regulus agreed somberly.

The young witch and wizard rose from their seats wordlessly and ventured back towards the shack's secret door. Des paused at the tunnel entrance, and Regulus expectantly waited for her to take out her wand to open it. Instead, she quickly spun around and planted a soft, timid kiss on his lips. It barely lasted a moment, but Regulus's insides flooded with warmth. She smiled at him as she pulled away.

"I just had to see what it was like. Once."