Everything At Once
By: bonafake
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Author's Note: Ohmygosh so I went through my drafts, right? And, apparently, I have had chapter four written for like, six months now and just. Haven't posted it, apparently. Upon re-reading it, I discovered that it was kind of one of the better things I've written in a while, so I hope you all enjoy! Thank you to ChamberlinofMusic, Gueneviere, and Lunaluvr95 for reviewing! I look forward to hearing what everyone thinks of this chapter!
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Hermione looked over the table as they ate, somber and fairly quiet. "We won't know until we try," Regulus said suddenly, looking up from his granola.
"Know what?"
"Whether or not he's easier or harder to kill when he's like that," he said, clearing up the remaining confusion.
"Oh," Hermione replied, wondering what he meant by that, exactly.
"We'll probably figure it out at some point then, right?" Harry said, smiling grimly. Draco smacked him in the arm.
Hermione pondered as the fight between Draco and Harry escalated. Why did he care if Hermione was right or wasn't? Then she was pretty sure she understood. He didn't want her precious little ego to be all messed up, right? That had to be it. It didn't annoy her much.
"I bet it would be harder," she volunteered. "You guys made sense."
Regulus shook his head. "Oh, no. We don't know yet."
Why they were adamantly denying whatever they'd said before, she had no idea. It was nice, though.
They spent the rest of the night in mostly amicable silence.
The next day, however, was nowhere near as peaceful.
Hermione woke to the sound of shrieks, loud shrill noises that pierced the air and hurt her head. Then she realized that they were her own. Harry came running first, then Regulus. Draco did not appear at all. She didn't mind.
He rushed over, clutching her hand. She could feel her heart still beating rapidly. What had the nightmare been? Oh, yes. The usual. Bellatrix.
"I―Are you okay, 'Mione?"
"No," she said, looking up at Harry, who had the sweetest concerned expression on his face. "But I will be."
That was a fact. She was always okay in the end. It was just the way things worked. Regulus leaned up against the doorframe. "Harry? I think you should leave," he said quietly. "I have to ask Hermione a quick question."
He nodded quickly, and hurried out of the room. Hermione narrowed her eyes at Regulus. Had he figured out that she was his anchor? Her heart was beating like a sparrow in her throat. It felt like she might burst any minute now. She resorted to her last delaying tactic. She couldn't talk about that just yet. "Do you still hate muggleborns?" Hermione asked, wanting to talk about bigotry more than their potential soulmate mess.
He let out a breath. Regulus knew for sure about the anchoring. "I don't know," he said quietly. "I―Muggles are dangerous to our society, but―I guess they're just not things you hate."
"Are they things to you?" Hermione asked, letting out a breath. She'd successfully gotten the topic away from potential soulmate discussion.
"No. I guess not. They're people. They're just―dangerous people," he finished, not making eye contact with her. "Muggles, not muggleborns," clarified Regulus.
Hermione nodded. "Why not muggleborns?"
"Some of the best people I've ever met were muggleborns," he said, barely meeting her eyes. She could barely breathe. It was an odd feeling.
"Like who?" Hermione nearly whispered, crossing her toes. That was supposed to be lucky, right?
"Like you," he answered, a pale pink flush creeping up the back of his neck.
"I'm glad you think so," she responded, leaning forward on the bed, and he was doing the exact same thing―when had he sat down, anyways?― but their almost moment was ruined by Draco's sudden reappearance.
"Oh," he said as he entered the room. "Sorry."
She shrugged, leaning away from Regulus as quickly as possible. He did the same, and she could feel the burn of awkwardness in her cheeks. It was a good thing they hadn't kissed, right? If they did, well, that would be something kind of binding, or at least she thought it would be.
"That's alright," Regulus intoned quickly, sending a furtive glance towards Hermione. She felt red from head to toe. Shame burnt worse than a flaming matchstick held up to her forearm.
"Exactly," she added. "We're alright."
Draco nodded slowly, doubtfully, and a grin spread across his face. He looked so different when he smiled, she thought. "Of course you're alright," he smirked. "Obviously."
"Yeah," Regulus said, and she could have sworn she heard his heart beating quickly, in time with her own, from across the bed.
They were awkward for at least a day, after that.
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Hermione wasn't quite sure what the thing was about Regulus. He was handsome, sure. He was smart, obviously. He was kind to house elves. He was aloof and aristocratic as hell. He was obnoxiously well read, well enough that he could have an annoyingly competent discourse about Ulysses and take the stance exactly opposite hers. But there was something else, something that she didn't quite know and didn't quite understand. It wasn't good or bad, whatever the thing was; no, it was something that defined his spirit, not his loyalty.
She was pretty sure it was love.
She hoped it wasn't.
Hermione lay on her bed, contemplating the love thing. Why didn't she want to be in love? There was an obvious answer, and then there was a complicated answer. With footnotes. The obvious answer was the fact that the only other person she had thought she was in love with was dead, killed by You-Know-Who in a remotely epic slaughter. There might have been some sort of subliminal anti-love agenda on her mind, but that wasn't the real reason. The real reason was something a hell of a lot more complicated.
She was his soulmate, or his anchor or whatever one wanted to call it. She was his.
That, by itself, might be enough to steer a girl away from commitment.
###
She was lying awake in bed when she first heard the sounds.
They sounded like crying. They were also very worrisome.
Hermione walked downstairs to see Regulus on the worn down couch, lost boy expression on. "Hey," she greeted him, so aware of their awkwardness that it hurt.
He nodded at her, then pinched his lips together in a show of something she didn't know. It struck her suddenly that she knew next to nothing about him, about this boy that cried in the middle of the night and sat up as soon as someone appeared so that it looked like he didn't care, didn't want them to know. He looked like the kind of boy that kept secrets. The most disturbing part of that was that Hermione knew, in that second, that she trusted him implicitly.
She loved him.
It was a trainwreck.
"Is everything alright?" she asked, frowning. "I―I heard someone crying. Was it you?"
"No," he denied. Hermione was pretty sure she knew better.
"I'm not sure if that's for the first question or the second."
"The first," he said, and looked up at her defiantly.
She loved him.
It was a trainwreck.
"What can I do for you?"
He turned away, face obscured from her prying eyes. Hermione wasn't sure what to do. Her love didn't extend to knowing what the hell to do with this closed off, quiet, Slytherin boy. "What did you think of me when you first met me?"
Hermione sat down next to Regulus. "I thought you sounded like an arrogant pompous brat. Until―"
"Until what?" he asked, turning towards her, a frown on his face.
"Nothing," she said, shaking her head. "It was nothing."
"Tell me," Regulus persisted.
She let out a somewhat dramatic sigh. "Fine. I thought you were an arrogant pompous brat until I learned that you were Regulus Black."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Nothing."
"I see my reputation precedes me," he said, frowning and turning away from her. "Did you hear about the horcrux thing?'
"Yes," responded Hermione. But she didn't say anything else.
"So then do you like me because of that or with that as part of the package deal?" he asked, turning towards her and smiling, just a bit. His smile twisted and twined over his face, changing it completely from the somber expression he'd been wearing earlier. It was a smile she decided she couldn't live without.
She loved him.
It was a trainwreck.
"How do you know I like you?" she asked, but a smile was creeping towards her lips, too.
He shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant and failing. "I just do."
Hermione reached for his hand. "You'd be right."
"If―if you'd asked me the same thing―you'd be right too," he said, looking at their hands.
She loved him.
It was a trainwreck.
###
Hermione wasn't sure how she fell in love with Regulus Black so quickly. Perhaps it was because when she shuffled around her papers for S.P.E.W. research, he grinned and put one back in the pile after commenting on the true need for house elf welfare. Perhaps it was when he claimed some of the best people he knew were muggleborns. Perhaps it was when he and Harry and Draco played pick up Quidditch inside the house and all three of them argued over who got to be seeker.
She wasn't sure.
All she knew was that she had fallen in love with Regulus faster than anyone would ever consider reasonable and it felt like she was being devoured by some sort of large, mythical monster. In a good way. Loving Regulus wasn't like anything else she'd ever done. No, no―it was an all consuming feeling, a sensation that occupied her every other thought and was an utter trainwreck.
She was a trainwreck.
She was in love.
And she was almost certain they were the same thing.
###
Hermione lay on Regulus's bed, feeling especially in love in that very moment. Regulus was rummaging around in his drawer, searching for―well, searching for something. She didn't know what. Probably it was something to do with their work project. He had decided to take S.P.E.W. under his wing, and with as much grace as she could muster, Hermione had accepted. So far, they hadn't gotten much done besides argue about funding.
There was a crash of books and then―
"Do you hate this?" she heard him say, sounding annoyed and just―like a miniature volcano, spraying out and splattering everywhere.
Hermione looked up.
He was holding his arm up, bared to the air and showing off his Dark Mark.
She flinched.
"I'm going to take that as a yes," he said, sucking in a breath of air, sounding like a dying giraffe. "You hate it. Hermione. You hate me."
"No."
That was the only thing she got out before she started crying in deep, shaking breaths. Regulus stood over her and looked like he was trying to not cry. He cried anyways. They both did until it didn't hurt to breathe anymore. Hermione wasn't sure why it hurt so much. It hurt in a way that was being cut into pieces with a surgeon's scalpel and being boiled in red wine while still being fully conscious. The tears were acid on her face. His sobs were gunshots in her ears.
She didn't hate Regulus for having the Dark Mark. She didn't love him for trying to get rid of Voldemort's horcrux.
Hermione was in love with Regulus for the in-between, the part of him that wasn't heroic coward but also wasn't second youngest traitor to Voldemort. He wasn't either of those things―he was an in-between, a schism, a conundrum all his own, a nothing, an everything.
"You are not defined by your actions," she whispered when she was able to speak without a shaking voice.
"That sounds like a misquote," Regulus whispered back. His voice still shook. Hermione wondered if she should have said her piece sooner.
"It's not."
She loved him.
It was not a trainwreck.