Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. All characters, places, descriptions, etc. (unless original and created by me) belong to her.
Summary: It was a small pack, of course, just the five of them, but together they were something wild. Hermione finds herself in the Marauder's Era with four new best friends.
Chapter 73:Alterius Non Sit Qui Suus Esse Potest*
June 1979
How do you spend your time when you know you're going to die?
In the last days at Hogwarts, Regulus' life didn't change. He escaped when he could to see Hermione, though with N.E.W.T.s he was less and less available. He'd told her he wanted to finish school, and she was more than encouraging when it came to studying. And when there wasn't Hermione or classes, he practiced with the quidditch team. He studied. He spent time with his friends.
Yax and Narcissa seemed oblivious, but he suspected Toshka knew more than he was letting on. It was hardest keeping the secret from him. The four of them had always been close, but had naturally paired amongst themselves. Corban and Narcissa, the blonds. And Antonin and Regulus, the broken.
Yax would be fine. He always was. He'd find a way to carry on and hopefully pick up the others. He was resourceful and ambitious. He would always be okay.
Narcissa would survive. Well, thrive more likely, as the new mistress of the House of Malfoy. She could handle anything. And though Regulus knew Lucius could be cruel and cold, he'd seen the couple together enough to know that Lucius would always try to protect Narcissa. She would be okay.
But Toshka? Antonin was different. One half of a broken pair. They'd clung together as victims of the same trauma and neglect as children and it had made their friendship strong. But where Regulus had fallen in line. Antonin had fought back. With every return to Hogwarts, Regulus came back a little more nihilistic, a little more accepting of his fate. Antonin came back with fractures in his mind.
His closest friend. He wanted to tell him, to save him from the grief, but no one could know. He couldn't risk it. Not even with Antonin. Not even if it would tear him apart. So he kept quiet and he sat next to him in class, ate meals with him, drank with him. He spent time with his friends, but he didn't tell a soul.
How do you spend your time when you know you're going to die?
In the days that came, Regulus didn't think of his mother and father. He thought of Sirius. He thought of what could have been if he'd been a little braver. He thought of reaching out after all this time, but he was still scared. So he never did. But he hoped for a time when he'd be able to call Sirius brother again.
He dreamt a lot about the future.
It should have bothered him more. He knew that. He should have broken down a long time ago, cracked from the impossibility of it all. But that hadn't happened. The conviction he wore with the choice to go after the horcrux was a shield, and Hermione was his sword. This friendship they had forged was one of tougher metal than time and fate. If she said she was going to save him, he pitied whatever tried to stand in her way.
But 18 years to wait? It was poetic in a way. Here he was, just turned 18, and he would spend the next 18 more-or-less dead. Hermione hated how he worded that. She'd told him time and time again that it was a stasis, equilibrium, that he wouldn't be dead. So he stopped saying it. But in his mind, he knew. This version of Regulus Black would die. And he was okay with that. This version of Regulus Black was the one who had his choices made for him. He stuck with Slytherin when he was 11 years old, despite the hat asking if he wanted to be with his brother. He followed his family orders, too afraid to challenge what he knew. He let his relationship with Sirius deteriorate until nothing was left. He was the one that let them mark his arm.
Yes, that Regulus Black would die in the cave. And a new one would be reborn when Hermione called him back.
Hermione. Fuck, in some ways he was taking the easy way out. Hiding away until it was safe to come out. She was going to be left behind, without him. He hated this part. On the night of the full moon, he didn't sleep. He tried to listen for howls in the night even though he knew she's miles away.
When he couldn't sleep at night, he thought about what it would be like to be called back. He wondered whether Hermione would wait through all 18 years or whether she'd find a way to get back faster. He'd bet anything she would find a way back. He didn't want her to have to wait that long.
Through it all, he wasn't scared. The faith he had in Hermione carried him through the last few days. He loved her. He knew she loved him, too. And it was enough. This love that transcended base familial and friendly, not heady and romantic, not complicated by lust, but so deep and all-encompassing. In his most vulnerable moments, Regulus thought Hermione was the embodiment of all the love he had been denied.
So that's why it was easy, trusting this plan, trusting her. She made it bearable, as the days slipped away until barely nothing remained.
How do you spend your time when you know you're going to die?
He spent time with his friends. He acted like everything was normal. He smiled and laughed and made promises he knew he couldn't keep. And on his last night at Hogwarts, he stole away from the party in the Slytherin common room to write one last letter.
Chapter Title Translation: *Let No Man Be Another's Who Can Be His Own