Chapter Eleven

It was almost eleven.

Malachi wondered if there was even any point in getting out of bed.

He was 'grounded, grounded, grounded', following his and Harry's discovery at the Fling – not that his out-of-house recreation options were all that vast to begin with – and he really had no wish to go down to the living room and spend his incarceration under the watchful eye of his dad, who had been hovering over him constantly whenever he could since he had come home at the start of the holidays.

Just a few more days and he would be back at Hogwarts and he still wasn't sure what he wanted to do.

When he had been at school, he had been desperate to get back home. To get back and confront his dad over his new discovery and demand the truth from him.

Since actually coming face to face with him, Malachi had been desperate to get back to school.

He wanted his dad to say it was all rubbish, no way was this true, and to put Malachi's doubts to rest once and for all.

But Malachi knew that wasn't what was going to happen.

He knew.

And if he knew, now, did he really need his dad to come out and say it?

Maybe he could just leave it be.

The door to his bedroom burst open and his dad walked purposefully into the room, flicking his wand in the direction of the windows and the curtains flew open, the sunlight suddenly blinding him and causing him to flinch.

"Get up."

His dad strode on by the bed, to the dresser, pulling it open and gathering up clothes; "You're not spending another minute in this bedroom."

He walked up to the bed and Malachi peered up at him through bleary eyes.

"Get washed up, put on these –" he tossed the clothes onto the bed; "and be downstairs in twenty minutes."

"Where are we going?"

"Quidditch game, or had you forgotten?"

"Oh. I thought I was grounded."

"Yes. Grounded, in reverse, for you seem to be enjoying your solitude just a little too much these days. A full day with your father, for your sins."

"Is Harry still coming?"

"Ha. My son, the comedian."

His dad strode from the room without a backwards glance; "Twenty minutes."

It wasn't until after the situation with Potter and Grace had been dealt with, after he and Lily had finally followed through on their long-planned separation, that Severus finally went to the Headmaster's office to regale him of his and Regulus' intentions.

He knew, going there, it would not take much convincing to get the older wizard on board.

"It is an ambitious strategy. Nothing less than I would expect from you two. Of course, if you'd like to proceed then I would be happy to make some adjustments to the class scheduling going forward to accommodate your new commitments."

"I do. What reasons would I have to refuse?"

"Well, there is only so much one or, indeed, two men can do. Time constraints are the blight of even the most committed of souls."

"Time? I have plenty of it. Other than brewing and the odd detention, there is little that occupies my free time as is."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled then and Severus almost scowled. Almost. But he held it back. Of course, the Headmaster was entirely aware of where it was that Severus had been sneaking off to in the evenings for the past several years and, of course, he had no doubt as to the paternity of Grace Potter. He never said as much, for which Severus was grateful.

He just got that look.

And it was a look Severus would rather not see, at present moment, for it pained him to remember what it was he had just lost.

Dumbledore elaborated further when Severus did not; "For now, yes. Though need I remind you that you have private lessons with Harry Potter beginning only next week?"

"You needn't," Severus said, glancing away.

How could he possibly forget, after all?

"Certainly, if yourself and Regulus are confident that this is a strategy you can successfully carry out then I shall go ahead and make the arrangements."

The delight Severus had been feeling at the prospect of returning to the Foundation had not yet been reignited, following the disastrous events that had taken place immediately in the aftermath of his and Regulus' discussion. And with the situation that had unfolded with Lily and Grace in the aftermath still weighing heavily upon him he knew he was hardly 'on the ball', so to speak, when it came to his ponderings on matters outside of their home life.

Even then, he could quite easily pick up on the blatant scepticism in the Headmaster's statement.

"Is there a particular reason you feel we would not be successful, Albus?"

"Only that I fear the reality of it may prove too much."

"I have spied for you for years and now you doubt my abilities?"

"Not yours, Severus."

Severus drew in a breath, eyeing him; "You doubt Regulus?"

"Come now, Severus, there's no need to sound so offended on his behalf. I just cannot help but be concerned that, should the situation arise where a difficult decision has to be made, will your friend have the resolve necessary to do what is needed to be done to carry it through?"

"You're referring to the incident at the Department of Mysteries, I presume."

"Indeed."

"You'll have to forgive me for not holding it against him, that he was not willing to let Lily Potter die to maintain our deception."

"Ah, there we have it. We all have our weaknesses and we are both well aware of what Regulus Black's are."

"You act as if he has something to be ashamed of."

"Not at all, Severus. There are few who would be able to do what is necessary in such a situation."

"You're thinking that Regulus would not be willing to let anyone die to protect my cover."

"Quite so."

"In this matter, we agree. I shall just have to see it doesn't come to that."

"Such things cannot be avoided, I'm afraid, not under these circumstances, and should you find yourself in such a position it is more than just a trusted post within the Foundation that would be lost."

Severus considered the Headmaster's words for a moment before he nodded; "I understand. As said, I will ensure it does not come to that."

"Well then, if you are so determined, I'll set about making the arrangements. It has happened at quite the opportune time, really, now that Professor Lupin has agreed to remain with us following the summer. That should relieve you of some of your responsibilities within the Castle. I am sure he will be quite happy to carry on providing the suitable distractions he has been carrying out with Harry these past few months."

"Ah, indeed? I was under the impression that it was not the choice of the Defence teachers whether or not they are able to stay, rather that of someone else."

"It seems, with the careful study of the protections placed upon Regulus' gathered horcruxes, the enchantments which have plagued that particular post for all these years have finally been identified. I suppose it is not entirely guaranteed, we shall have to wait until the end of the school year to be certain, but I am quite confident that Remus will be returning to us for another year at Hogwarts."

Severus lifted his eyes skywards; "I couldn't be more thrilled, Headmaster."

"Just as I thought, my boy," Dumbledore chuckled.

Severus stood, exchanging farewells, and heading from the office; making his way down to his own in the dungeons and busying himself with whatever tasks and preparations he could find, given it was still the holidays and there was little in the way of distractions.

Anything he could find that would stop his mind from wondering; back to that little house, where he'd left them both behind.

Malachi laughed.

His son was laughing.

Regulus only just held back the sigh of relief at the sight. His son, finally, making himself known once more, past the miserable exterior that he had been displaying ever since his return from school.

Regulus laughed as well, delighted by the change, wrapping an arm around Malachi's shoulders, and cheering as their team wracked up further points out on the field.

Regulus had had enough.

He could not stand by, allow precious time with his son to waste away any longer, not when he was certain – despite his own reasonings and Severus' assurances – that something was very wrong.

Even as a boy, a much younger boy, when Regulus' appearances in his life had been sporadic, at best, his son had never shut him out in this way. There had never been this distance.

Regulus was no expert at parenting – his own were hardly shining examples – but he had always done his best to ensure his son knew he could come to him about anything, without fear of judgement. It was honesty he relied on, to get him through the challenges, the demands of it all, and so when Malachi began to shut himself up in his bedroom for days-on-end, along with the ensuing 'grounding' which proved more frustrating to himself than it was to his son, Regulus couldn't not act.

And so Regulus had brought him here, only half-joking when he had claimed to his son that a day in his presence would be punishment enough, hoping that he might manage to ignite a spark that would either return his son back to his usual self or at least encourage and reassure him enough that he would turn and reveal what it was that was troubling him.

It did both, as it so happened, the reason for his son's behaviour unexpectedly making itself known upon arrival back at home that evening.

"Dinner. You're up!"

"What? I don't know how to make dinner!"

"All part of your new life-skills course."

"What about Kreacher? He'll be angry if I do his job."

"Oh, don't you worry about Kreacher, my kind-hearted son, I'm sure he'll be able to bear the disappointment."

"Am I ever gonna stop being punished?"

"For spying on your dear old dad? I'll let you know when the suitable price has been paid."

Malachi rolled his eyes but he was still smiling, still his boy, as he walked on by and pulled open the cooling box to look at the meal options available.

"Do you want a sandwich?" he offered.

"I was thinking a roast."

"Food poisoning it is!"

Regulus chuckled, beyond delighted at his son's change in demeanour, and made his way to the pile of letters he had tossed onto the counter earlier that day for later perusal.

He was only just opening the first envelope when Malachi approached, a loaf of bread and wrapped foils of meat in hand.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Were you a Death Eater?"

Regulus ceased in his moments, eyes snapping back to his son's face.

Malachi simply looked back at him, the picture of childhood innocence, completely trusting, and Regulus found he couldn't look away even if he wanted to.

"Yes."

Malachi frowned.

It wasn't surprise, no, Regulus could see that, realising that his son had already been sure of the answer before asking. Rather, he seemed thrown at the blunt admittance.

"You're not even going to deny it?"

"It's not a secret, Malachi."

Regulus folded the envelope, dropping it back onto the counter; "I went to trial."

"I know."

Regulus squinted; he was the one to be surprised in this conversation, it seemed.

Malachi swallowed, averting his eyes as he elaborated, speaking quietly; "The case collapsed when they couldn't get enough evidence. No witnesses came forward."

Regulus would be impressed if the subject matter was not so grave.

"You've been reading up."

Malachi met his eyes, only giving the slightest of nods.

"Why didn't you just come to me?"

Malachi's lip trembled then and Regulus could see the glimmer in his eyes and, Merlin, it broke his heart to see it; "I didn't know what to say."

Regulus released a breath, before he nodded, all that had been going on since his son's return from Hogwarts finally making sense.

He indicated at the stools tucked beneath the counter, pulling one out for himself and sitting down. Malachi did as he asked, stepping around and taking the one next to him.

Regulus dipped his chin to look at him, waited until his son's reluctant eyes met his before he spoke.

"Son, you can ask me anything."

Malachi's eyes flitted back and forth between his, so open and vulnerable and frightened, his voice quiet, as if he were still afraid to ask; "Why?"

It was both the simplest and most difficult question he could possibly ask.

Regulus hesitated, glancing away for a second as he tried to get his head around it all, everything he had tried to forget, to push aside, to bury in the darkest corners of his mind; his family and all that had led to that day when he knelt before the Dark Lord and pledged himself, his life and his soul to his cause.

He looked back at his son, who waited patiently, with that same uncertain and frightened look in his eyes as he prepared himself for what his father was going to say.

"Okay," Regulus nodded, drawing in a breath; "Okay, we're doing this now." He turned to face him fully and Malachi did the same.

"I grew up in a family that believed that we – wizards and witches – were better than muggles and anyone associated with them. Muggleborns, half-bloods, they were all beneath us. They believed that they were the reason for all the problems we wizards faced, currently and in the future."

"What kind of problems?"

"Well. There was the Statute, first of all. That's the law that requires we keep ourselves hidden."

"To protect ourselves from them? The muggles?"

"Yes. My family, and many others, didn't agree with it. They thought that we, with our abilities, ought to be the ones who ruled and that it was the muggles who should adapt to our way of life, rather than us to theirs."

Malachi looked contemplative at the statement; "But, what did that have to do with the muggleborns and half-bloods? They have magical powers. Maybe they weren't happy with the Statute, either?"

"Purebloods, those who believed it, said that, by associating with them and having their children, they weakened the case for wizarding supremacy by bending to the wills of the muggles. But it wasn't just the Statute. There were other reasons we were taught to look down on those with muggle blood.

They believed that, with the ever-increasing mixing of purebloods with muggles and muggleborns, half-bloods would become the dominant of the bloodlines with purebloods eventually dying out completely and that this would lead to a weakening of the wizarding community as a whole; our magical abilities, more squibs being born, even saying that muggle diseases would eventually be able to adapt and mutate to affect us. All nonsense, Malachi."

"But…our family, they all believed it?"

"Your Uncle Sirius didn't. Or Auntie Andie. She met Uncle Ted, a muggleborn, that changed things for her."

"But you believed it?"

"Yes, I did."

"So, you went to Voldemort then? To ki…to stop them, the muggles?"

Regulus shook his head slightly, looking down at his hands briefly before going on; "The Dark Lord – don't call him by his name, Malachi, not ever – the Dark Lord, he had an agenda. Or so he claimed. It was said that his plans were to bring the wizards out of hiding, to create a world in which magic could be practised freely; wizarding schools for our children, permissions to practice magic from infancy, more magical events, towns, cities. You name it, he promised it. With the uprising against the muggles and the abolishment of the Statute, he claimed we would take the world back for our own, make our own rules."

"That, uh, sounds…alright?"

Regulus gave a humourless laugh.

"Oh, doesn't it just, Son? It was dragonsh- it was unattainable, and he knew it."

"You don't think he would have abolished it? The Statute?"

"Oh, I'm sure he would have. Not that there would have been much need for one, once he was done."

"So, that's why you joined then? Because, you wanted to live like that? Without having to hide from the muggles?"

"If such a world were possible, we would have it. It has already been tried."

"But if it isn't possible why did you believe him? Why did so many people believe him? You weren't the only person who went to war for him. Harry and me, we've read things. He had so many people fighting for him."

"People believe what they want to believe. And it was not only those who wanted to rule that were drawn to the cause. For some just the magic, the dark, that had a pull, the power it offered. And the Dark Lord, he targeted the weak. The susceptible. It was rarely grown men and women whom he recruited as his Death Eaters. From what I recall, the majority of Death Eaters were initiated while they were still at school."

"How old were you?"

"Sixteen."

"Why did Vold – the Dark – why did he want schoolkids as his Death Eaters? Older wizards, they'd be stronger, wouldn't they?"

"Because with a little life experience any witch or wizard could see the impossibilities of the world that he had proposed. It is easier to convince the young that it will all be worth the cost, in the end. And once you're in; you're in."

"And it wasn't worth it? The cost? To be free from hiding?"

"No."

He could remember it all as if it were yesterday. The searing burn of the summons when he called them through their Marks. The masked faces of his comrades as they surrounded their Lord, praying they would not be called upon next. The faces of Order members as they squared off and fell on the battlefield.

The burning buildings.

The curses.

The screams.

The victims.

Muggles. Muggleborns. Half-bloods. Purebloods. Any who dared to stand in the way.

"Some relished it. The power. Malachi, you wouldn't believe the things…" Regulus broke off, looking away.

He still couldn't believe the things he had seen.

Regulus drew in a breath, meeting his son's eyes once more, this was not the time for self-pity. No, this was the time that he ensured his son never fell for it; the lies, the promises that he knew his son would hear of, if not by the Dark Lord on his return, then someone else. A threat that, perhaps, had not even revealed themselves yet.

"Son, the Dark Lord was ruthless. He despised muggles with a vehemence I've never seen, even amongst the most fanatical of pureblood supremacists. He was obsessed, almost to the point of lunacy, not for the chance to rule over them, but to eradicate them.

All knew how polarising the issue of blood is among the wizarding circles and with the politics of the Statute and Grindelwald sympathisers biding their time, the Dark Lord knew he would have no shortage of followers by capitalising on them.

It is not only witches and wizards who are bound by it; there are the giants, the werewolves, those cast out by the wizarding community as is, as well as any other thinking, magical being you could think of and most are not so much like muggles as we are, that they would question the chance to live in a world where they could roam freely if only they were eliminated.

The Dark Lord is not the first nor will he be the last to use this knowledge to further his own agenda. And his agenda is simple; world domination. For himself. By any means possible. There was nothing he would not have us do."

Malachi only stared back at him, taking it all in, as Regulus answered the questions he asked with brutal honesty, knowing he could not, would not lie to his son and excuse what had happened back then.

This instant, with his son, was the only time that he had ever spoken openly about any of it.

Malachi lowered his eyes.

Regulus swallowed, watching him carefully, and he wondered if this would forever be the moment he remembered as the one in which he lost his son. He certainly deserved it, expected it even. His son was so good and the glimmer of tears in his eyes as he had finally confronted his father over the truth only asserted that; how different and pure his son was, compared to him.

Malachi reached into his back pocket and pulled out folded up parchment. He unfolded and placed it on the counter beside them.

It was a Daily Prophet front page, himself on the cover, with the article that announced his release so many years before but it wasn't that which drew his concern.

It was the words 'Blood Traitor', that were enchanted across the page, corner to corner, that struck him.

"Who gave you this?"

"Them."

"Who's them?"

"The people who knew what you were before I did. I wish you'd told me."

"Do you?"

Malachi looked at him, sadly; "Yeah. Why didn't you? You must've known I'd find out."

Regulus shrugged, shaking his head; "I wanted to keep you a little longer, I suppose."

Malachi looked surprised at his words. The implication that he expected that he had, now, lost him to the truth.

His son slid down from the stool where he sat opposite him. But, instead of walking away, as Regulus expected, Malachi stepped in closer and hugged him. So, so good, just as Regulus had always known that he was, and he gripped him tight and fought the prickle of his own tears, even as he felt his sons against him.

"I'm so sorry, Malachi," he whispered.

Malachi nodded, slowly, not letting up the hold he had of him. If anything it tightened further, and he spoke, quiet and muffled against his clothing.

"I know, Dad."

It was so much more than he deserved and needed to hear.