Chapter 9: Chapter 8: November 1980
Summary:
Breakdowns.
Notes:
This chapter reads like just lovers (like we were supposed to be) by zeppazariel for two reasons:
1. The entire jegulus interaction.
2. It's unbearably sad.
I will elaborate in the end notes.
I'm assuming that I'll have another chapter, maybe 2 up by maybe Sunday, maybe Monday, but will update this note if it's going to be later (I don't think it will be though!!)
I would say hope you enjoy, but I don't really know if this chapter is enjoyable except for like 3 sentences.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
November 1980
Evan Rosier has been in Azkaban for fifteen days.
He knows this because he has eaten 45 unidentifiable and unflavoured meals, and their blandness only adds to the whole prison atmosphere.
No flavour.
No warmth.
No happiness.
No Barty.
They've always been inseparable, him and Barty. They used to be a trio back in school when Regulus was alive, and although they didn't even last a month into seventh year, unable to come back to the dorm every night where the empty bed looked at them in a crude mockery of the ghost of their friend, he and Barty had dropped out together and gone on grief-induced killing sprees together.
You name it, they've done it, and they've done it together, and Evan never expected it to stop.
But it has.
There hasn't been a day gone by in over three years that Barty hasn't been in, and he thinks it makes the dark and depressing atmosphere of Azkaban seem even darker; his absence next to Evan being replaced by a dementor that sucks the life out of him, piece by piece.
Evan is unrepentant; he didn't sign up to be a Death Eater because he had morals, and it's not like he found any through his servitude to the Dark Lord, but still. Life in Azkaban with the threat of a kiss constantly lingering in the back of his mind isn't where he ever imagined he would be.
Now though? He can't imagine ever getting out.
There's the same rotation of guards every week. One brings breakfast at 7am, the other brings lunch at midday and dinner at 6pm. Who it is changes, but it's always the same guard for the last two meals, and all the meals are always at the same time.
He knows because he asked; it's the only way he can keep track of the time passing.
This is why he's confused when only a short time after breakfast, he hears footsteps. The guards patrol like clockwork, but it's only around 8am; he doesn't think he zoned out or fell asleep, but he can't think of any other explanation.
His confusion only grows when he sees a cat patronus bound towards his cell, another patronus he's never seen, although he recognises the guard who is holding a key to the door of his cell and unlocking it –
The guard is holding a key to the door of his cell and unlocking it?
I don't want to die, Evan thinks, unexpectedly terrified. I don't want to die, and I don't want to be kissed by the dementors. I don't want to die, but why else would they be here?
The guard unlocks the door, and the cat bounds in, which warms Evan up slightly, pushing away the dementor's chill, but the guard doesn't enter.
Regulus Black does.
"Oh," Evan says heartbrokenly, "I'm already dead. I wasn't ready to go, but it is good to see you again, Reg."
Regulus looks bewildered in a way he rarely does, but the frown and the slight creasing of his eyebrows are exactly the same as the Regulus in Evan's memories.
"You're not dead, Evan", Regulus says blankly, but Evan can hear the undertone of worry.
Also strange… Regulus doesn't tend to worry about much, so Evan must have made him up if he's not dead.
Even if this is merely a hallucination, at least it's a nice one.
"Maybe hell is just Azkaban. Although I always thought hell was going to be hot. I'm only ever cold here."
Regulus doesn't reply to Evan, which hurts a bit; if it's his hallucination then surely he should be the centre of attention? But the way the anger radiates off him and seems to make the freezing room even colder? That is Regulus Black through and through.
"What the fuck did you do to him?" he hisses at the guard. "Why is he like this? Has he lost his fucking mind?"
The guard is smart enough to know that Regulus is the ex-Death Eater who killed Voldemort and would definitely have no qualms about killing him as an unimportant Azkaban guard, so he quickly and dutifully answers.
"Sometimes the dementors can have an effect on the prisoners", he begins hurriedly. "They take away a person's happiest memories, as you know, and this can make it hard to, uh, well, discern reality, I suppose."
It takes every fibre in his body not to curse the guard. Regulus hasn't gotten Evan out just for him to be sent back.
"And how do they usually recover from this?" Regulus asks, his whole body stiff and taut with tension that the guard can definitely see.
"Prisoners aren't usually released during a period where it's recoverable," the guard says slowly, hesitantly, "the shortest Azkaban sentence is generally still over 3 months, and this toll can have long-term effects –"
Regulus has heard enough.
"I am getting Evan Rosier out of here, and you are not going to stop me or follow me or even look at me. Instead, you can think about how you deserve to be locked behind the cell doors for the rest of your life", before he drops his voice even lower and hisses menacingly, "if it wouldn't get me and Evan sent straight back in here, I would have tortured you slowly until you begged for death."
And with that ominous message, he whirls back towards Evan and ignores the guard's deathly pale face and trembling body.
He thinks that he should be gentle, but all he wants is to get Evan out of here. Plus, if Evan thinks he's not real, him acting soft and sweet really won't help him sort through what's real and what's not.
"Follow me Evan, and ask questions later; I fucking hate this place."
Regulus winces inwardly, berating himself. Was that really the best way to phrase it, Regulus?
Evan is still staring at him like he's expecting him to disappear, and as Regulus reaches down to grab Evan's wrist and pull him to his feet, both of Evan's hands reach out to grab his one hand instead.
"Oh", he whispers, his eyes brightening with something mixed with tentative hope and dangerous desperation. "You're warm, Reg. You're real."
"Yeah Ev, I promise you I'm real", and he yanks Evan up off the floor and wraps him in a hug, ignoring all of the dirt and grime that's getting on his neatly pressed robes.
He's not a hugger, never has been, and Evan knows this well as he murmurs, "you never hug me, Reg."
"Yes, well", he begins before sighing and saying ", I feel like the situation calls for it. Now come on."
Evan still looks slightly hesitant, not quite sure if it's all inside his head, but Regulus kind of, just, grabs him by the wrist and drags him along, giving him no choice but to follow.
As a Death Eater, Evan had gotten one of the cells in the coldest, darkest, most dementor-ridden part of Azkaban, and this also means that he and Regulus have to pass a lot of the other Death Eaters who have already been captured on their way out.
This is a smaller number than one would expect, purely because Regulus interrogated at least half of them in his quest to conquer Voldemort. He also killed many of them, either accidentally because they were too weak to withstand the torture, or on purpose because they either didn't give him any promising leads or they just annoyed him too much to want to live in the same plane of existence as them.
Some of those who did get captured are Amycus Carrow and Corban Yaxley, both of whom are bitter and resentful about not having had their esteemed Dark Lord break them out yet.
Henry Nott is also in Azkaban, and he seems to have been charming or persuasive enough to have a glimpse of the newspaper from one of the guards. As he catches sight of Regulus, anger appears to manifest across his entire body; it's not something the dementors can take away from him, so it consumes him entirely.
"There's the traitor, back from the dead to let us down again. Tell me why you're not on the same side of the bars as us, Black", he hisses out.
"Blacks don't do prison", Regulus replies blandly, barely slowing down for him to hear, although all of the other Death Eaters have noticed him now. They've also gathered that he's not here because he's a Death Eater, but rather he's at least got some kind of affiliation with the light and the ministry to not only come to Azkaban and not get locked away but also to bring a prisoner away with him.
Safe to say, they're livid, but they're also inching towards Evan, where the light of Regulus' patronus lessens the chill that encompasses them constantly.
"So, who were you hiding with, Black? Just wait until our Lord catches up to you; it won't be pretty –"
"What wasn't pretty was what he looked like after I murdered him," Regulus bites out, unconsciously walking faster.
He's already got so few happy memories he doesn't want to dementors to take them, and the chill of Azkaban is far too similar to the coolness of the cave.
"What did Rosier do to be let go?" one of them asks, "he's a Death Eater too", to which Regulus simply gestures at Evan and says smugly, "do you see a mark?"
Like Regulus and Barty, Evan is now unmarked, and the Death Eaters glance almost hopefully at their forearms, wondering if the mark that condemned them to imprisonment has disappeared and its absence is now their ticket out of here.
It's not.
The Dark Mark is still bold and vivid on their forearms and has shown no sign of disappearing since Voldemort's death.
"Why have yours disappeared then?" half resenting that Regulus and Evan are apparently no longer loyal to the Dark Lord and half jealous that they're no longer tied to everything he stood for.
Regulus opens his mouth to speak, but Evan gets there first.
"You heard him, didn't you, Nott? We're just born better," and then he gives them all a winning smile and starts walking away towards the exit.
Regulus leaves his cat patronus running laps around Evan; he needs it more than Regulus does, and eventually, they get to the front gate where the guards glare but let them go. Then he's sitting in the boat with Evan and watching Azkaban get smaller and smaller behind them.
They disembark the boat, Evan stumbling slightly, unused to moving so much, and Regulus catches and steadies him.
"It's really you", Evan says again. He seems to be coming back to himself more, which Regulus thinks is a good sign until anger flits across his face.
"You died." He says seriously, "you were dead."
"I never died, Evan," Regulus says slowly, unsure if the coast that overlooks Azkaban is really the place to be having this conversation, but nonetheless willing to indulge Evan in basically whatever he asks for at this point.
"I never died. I just went into hiding because Voldemort was going to kill me, and I had things to do before I could let that happen."
"Such as?" Evan asks sceptically.
"Killing him first."
Evan reaches out, grabs Regulus' shoulders and basically just throttles him a bit before he shoves him away and says, "I should have fucking known. Oh, Barty's going to murder you when he finds out; I hope you're prepared."
"Yes, yes, already dealt with that, now let's go. I'm not staying here any longer, it's cold."
Evan's dark mutter of "try fifteen fucking days, you princess" is lost over the sound of apparation.
They land in the sitting room of Grimmauld Place, where Barty is sitting on the couch, fretting.
His head snaps towards them as he hears them appear, and his face softens in relief as he sees Regulus and Evan, both alive and unharmed.
"Evan", he breathes out before hugging him tightly. He loves Regulus, truly he does; he was his first love after all, but there's something about Evan that just seems to settle every wrought emotion inside of him, and as Evan hugs him back, Barty relaxes for the first time in sixteen days.
"You're warm", is all Evan says back to him, "you're real too," before he hugs him back twice as tight.
"Evan?" Barty asks slowly, but it's Regulus who answers with a half angry, half worried "the dementors, affected him a bit. He's having a bit of trouble realising he's here, that I'm here, that he's out."
"Right", Barty says stoically, even as his eyes flash in anger, bracing his hands on Evan's shoulders and looking him in the eyes.
"Evan, have I ever lied to you?" he asks.
"No...?"
"Exactly, now remember that. You're out of Azkaban, you're never going back, you're here with us, yes Reg is alive, takes some getting used to that, but you're here, I'm here, Reg's here, and we're staying together again, okay? No more seventh year, no more war, just us three again, okay?"
Evan is simply staring at him.
"Okay?" Barty repeats.
"Okay," Evan replies softly.
"Good," Barty says. "Now, let's get you a shower.
"Oh, I haven't showered in sixteen days", Evan says wistfully, and when Barty glances at Regulus, who is already looking at him, they have the exact same shade of anger-fuelled revenge that's desperate to be released in their eyes.
Someone is going to pay for this.
"I'll show you where the shower –" Regulus begins.
"I'll take him," Barty interrupts. "I'll take him." He has an irrational feeling in his chest that if he loses sight of Evan, he'll disappear again.
He lived without Regulus for three years but barely survived without Evan for sixteen days.
For this reason, he grabs Evan by the wrist and drags him up to Regulus' bathroom, where all his pretentious and overpriced towels, shampoos and soaps are.
Usually, Barty would scoff and roll his eyes at the extravagance, but now he's just grateful. Evan deserves every last bit of it after suffering in that hellhole.
He's still in the bathroom, unsure of what he's waiting for but knowing that he doesn't want to go, when Evan awkwardly says, "uh, I'll just shower then."
"Right", Barty says flushing, "Right, I'll wait in the kitchen", and then he walks out without a backwards glance.
Barty can't figure out why he so badly wanted to stay.
Regulus is in the kitchen with Sirius.
James and Remus tried to follow as they do best, but Regulus told them in no unclear terms to "fuck off, or I'll curse you until you wished you were dead."
James' pupils had dilated significantly, good, you should be afraid of me, Regulus had thought, and Remus had just raised an eyebrow, smirking and said, "careful Regulus, those manners weren't very pureblood of you," dashing out of the room laughing before he could be hexed.
Sirius had paused on his way out the door, head tilted in a silent question, and Regulus had muttered a sullen "you can stay if you have to," which made Sirius grin.
"How was it?" Sirius asks, his hand gesturing uselessly as he tries to describe the entire Azkaban experience with a single word.
He almost regrets his question, he's expecting a snippy remark, probably a hex, maybe a dark curse if the question really annoys Regulus, but all he gets is a hoarse "awful."
Regulus wonders if the dementors are still affecting him an hour later or if his occlumency shields have reached their capacity, and he's beginning to feel.
He doesn't know which one scares him more.
Sirius is scared too.
This is probably the most vulnerable he's seen Regulus, not just since his return but since he was thirteen or so, and he's terrified of screwing it up.
"How so?" he asks hesitantly, hoping he's not going to get a vitriol fuelled how do you think or something similar, but Regulus clearly isn't angry about this; he seems to be almost traumatised.
"It was cold", Regulus tells the floor. "It was cold and dark and lonely even though there were people everywhere."
Sirius doesn't say anything; he just holds his breath, afraid to shatter the moment.
"It felt like it drained the happiness out of me, out of everyone there, and there was nothing I could do to fix it except leave or die."
Sirius sucks in a sharp breath at this, but Regulus ignores him.
"It was almost nostalgic though," he continues pensively, "it felt like our childhood", and Sirius finally speaks up at this point, needing to voice the fear that's circling around his head.
"I wasn't a dementor to you in this house, was I, Reggie? You can tell me if I was though. You can tell me."
There's a long pause which makes Sirius' heart drop to the floor until Regulus talks next.
"No Sirius", he says, squeezing his eyes shut and choking out in a moment of embarrassing honesty, "you were the patronus."
The words hit Sirius like a punch to the chest, making him exhale sharply and immediately start crying, and Regulus walks out of the room before he does the same.
Unfortunately, he runs into Barty coming down the stairs towards the kitchen, who takes one look at him, sees there's actual emotion on his face and looks ready to revolt.
"Reg, what the fuck happened to you?"
"Not now, Barty."
"Was it your brother?"
"Not now, Barty."
"It was, oh I'm gonna –"
"Barty."
"Reg."
"Barty, please"
The please pulls Barty up short. He doesn't know if he's even heard Regulus say the word, but now that he has, he knows he has to indulge him in whatever he asks; whatever is going on with him, it's clearly something significant he's struggling to repress.
He sighs, frustration draining away and gestures at Regulus to keep going up the stairs.
"Go off and sulk then, or whatever you're going to do."
Regulus doesn't really smile, but the corners of his lips twitch, and he calls over his shoulder, "same rules apply, Barty."
"I know, I know", he mutters even as he heads straight towards the room Regulus came from to hunt down Sirius.
Sirius is sitting at the head of the table, trying not to cry and doing nothing but crying.
"You were the patronus" is fluttering around in his head, and it both breaks his heart and patches it back together again.
It reminds him that although he lost his brother twice, he can have him back, and it's the first conversation, apart from Regulus' comment on the night he returned, that wasn't hostile or resentful or angry.
His melancholic pondering is interrupted by footsteps coming towards him, and his head snaps up expecting to see Regulus, but instead, it's Barty Crouch.
Great.
"Fuck off, Crouch."
"No, you fuck off, Black. Why does Reg look like he's about to cry."
"Maybe he is", Sirius offers back, still crying himself.
"Reg doesn't cry", Barty enunciates clearly, "so try again."
"I don't fucking know", Sirius mutters, "go find him yourself if you're so worried."
"If he's about to cry, his wards aren't going to let me in; he wouldn't let anyone see him like that."
"Well then", is all Sirius says in response as he thinks about his brother three floors above him, who may or may not be in his bedroom and crying in sync with him.
Regulus is neither crying nor in his bedroom.
He was going to his room when he heard the water running through the wall and remembered Evan was in there and didn't think seeing him having a breakdown would help Evan much when he had just recently had a mild one of his own.
He went to find the library, a spare room, any room but this one, but he ended up here anyways.
And now, he's lying on the covers of Sirius' childhood bed, staring at the ceiling, as he tries to repress every emotion he has that relates to Sirius.
It's an unsurprisingly difficult task for three reasons. Firstly, there are an awful lot of them. Secondly, the sheer number of repressed emotions and memories he has already means that there isn't much room for more; he swears he can feel the strain on his shields that are surely cracking under the pressure. Thirdly and perhaps most selfishly, there are some moments with Sirius that he just wants to keep for himself and feel.
He's afraid if he hides too much away, he may forget how.
It's working though, slowly but surely, and the heat behind his eyes lessens, and the ache in his chest disappears.
He's still staring at the ceiling when the door opens, and he sighs, expecting to see Sirius when James Potter walks in.
James is also surprised to see him if the way he jolts back is any indication.
"Sorry", James says instinctively, glancing around, "I thought this was Sirius' old room."
Regulus feels his cheeks flush slightly with embarrassment as he says resignedly, "it is."
"And you're, lying on his bed?"
"Do your glasses work or not, Potter?"
"Right, right, stupid question", he mutters.
"Yours generally are."
"You're quite mean, do you know that?" James asks, frowning.
"Yes"
"Will you ever stop?"
"No"
"I could teach you to be nice."
Regulus looks up at this, his gaze leaving the ceiling and landing on James' earnest face.
This can be another bonding point, James thinks pleased, until –
"Why the fuck would I want to do that? What Blacks do you know who are nice?"
"Sirius."
"Right, nothing screams nice like abandoning your brother twice, maybe that's where I'm going wrong," and then he gets up off the bed and goes to walk out of the room.
"Regulus, wait, please", James calls out desperately. All Regulus has been doing is walking away from him this week, and he doesn't know why today of all days is the day he doesn't want to watch him leave. Again.
Regulus doesn't stop, but he slows down his exit and raises his eyebrow in a sign of impatience.
"I have a question for you", James blurts out, "a mutually beneficial research project. You're into academics, right?"
"Whatever it is, I don't want to know," Regulus says dismissively, but James is unperturbed. He's asking his question, he just has to follow the script and –
"Would you kiss me?" he blurts out inelegantly, not at all how he rehearsed it in his head. He's expecting Regulus to bolt, but instead, he does the opposite. He literally freezes and slowly, oh so slowly, turns around, a mixture of anger and shock on his face.
He still hasn't said a word; he's simply staring at James, who takes it upon himself to elaborate.
"You know, you like guys, and I've never kissed a guy before, but I'm curious, you know? And since Barty is the only guy that you've kissed, then aren't you, you know, curious? As to what other guys are like to kiss?"
Regulus shakes his head slightly to make sure he's heard him right, and then, "even if I was curious, why would I want it to be you?"
"Because I'm lovely?" James suggests weakly.
"You're not."
"Charming?"
"Also no."
"It'll annoy Sirius?"
"Tempting, but still no."
"I'm a Gryffindor?"
"You were doing so well."
"Was I really?"
"No."
Half of James is frustrated by Regulus' extreme stubbornness and unhelpfulness, and the other half is desperately enjoying himself with the banter, so, he can't help but laugh.
"That wasn't a joke", Regulus says, unimpressed.
"I know", James says, still grinning, "it was funny, though."
"You're mentally unstable, Potter."
"Takes one to know one," James shoots back before clapping his hand over his mouth and looking at Regulus in panic. He did not mean to say that out loud.
He's expecting curses, hexes, and anger, but instead, Regulus smiles slightly, reluctantly amused, and a thrill of excitement floods through James, knowing he was the one who put it there.
"So, what do you say?" James asks, going through the checklist he made in his head. He's brushed his teeth, he put on his cologne, he shaved his face so there won't be stubble, there's no reason why he won't enjoy –
"No."
"I beg your pardon?" James asks incredulously, "I thought you were into academics."
"Oh, I am", Regulus says smugly, "but are you an academic? No. Ergo, I'm not into you."
And having won that argument, he walks out of the room, pleased to know that James isn't going to bother him again with his ridiculous plans.
James watches him go, simultaneously disappointed that Regulus is leaving and ecstatic that they even talked at all.
He's wondering why he's becoming jealous of Sirius, who Regulus talks to even if it's just to yell, and lets into his room that James still can't enter.
James had been hoping that he and Sirius could repair their ruined relationship if only Regulus put in the effort and tried to see Sirius' point of view, but that's a futile wish now.
Regulus hasn't just changed his mind; he's become the vision.
And boy, is he a vision.
He's Sirius' little brother who sneered down his nose at them all when they called him Reggie on the Hogwarts Express. "It's Regulus", he had said, "use my full name or don't address me at all".
He's Sirius' little brother who bet Voldemort on his own, the Death Eater turned traitor who not only sent the ball rolling for the revolution but scored a perfect strike.
He's Sirius' little brother, who's a snarky, prickly git with the emotional stability of a walnut. The one James couldn't look away from in fear of being hexed until the fear turned into something else entirely.
He's Sirius' little brother, who James has a crush on.
Fuck.
Evan takes a long, hot shower, partly because he can, partly because he wants to, and partly because it's been 30 minutes under the almost boiling water, and he hasn't quite washed away the chill of Azkaban.
Regulus' ridiculous array of shampoos and oils and creams look at him, and of course, the pretentious little shit has them all imported from France, so he can't even read the labels.
Shampoing is easy enough to figure out, and the texture of the après-shampoing makes it obviously the conditioner, but anything else is a mystery. Evan just chooses a random bottle to use as body wash and another that he hopes is moisturiser but is actually some kind of oil that he washes down the drain before trying another bottle.
Evan never realised how much admin could go into washing one person's hair, although it is still a definite upgrade from the one time he had a shower at Barty's and saw the 3-in-1 shampoo, conditioner and body wash bottle looking at him on the shelf next to the unopened bar of soap.
Yeah, he'll take Regulus' fancy French shit any day.
There's a set of clothes laid out by the sink, and it's immediately apparent that they're Regulus' because they're all made of silk.
Evan is a stereotypical pureblood, sure, but he's not a Black.
Then again, after reading the article about Regulus and the fact that he killed the Dark Lord, maybe Regulus isn't either.
He gets dressed, hangs up the towel and walks downstairs, where Barty and Sirius are glaring at each other while Regulus gives out the air of it being a great cost for him to sit there at all.
Regulus sees him first, and his bored expression reduces slightly, becoming every bit as snooty and judgemental pureblood as Evan remembers.
"Did you put the Moroccan oil on after you conditioned Evan?" he asks indignantly.
"I didn't use it at all."
Regulus looks genuinely offended and says, "then you shouldn't have bothered to wash your hair in the first place."
Change the subject, change the subject before he starts lecturing me on how to wash my own fucking hair, Evan thinks desperately.
"Do you know what's in Barty's shower?" Evan begins grinning menacingly and relishing in the hissed "you fucking promised you wouldn't tell him" from Barty.
"Tell me what", Regulus sighs, looking half interested and half resigned.
"You have 11 different bottles in the shower for your hair routine, yes Reg?" Evan begins.
"There's another six under the sink for when my hair's dry, but yes", he replies slowly, becoming even more interested as Evan's whole face lights up and Barty tenses instinctively for what's going to come.
"Barty has one bottle of 3-in-1. And that's it"
" You fucking traitor," says Barty.
"You are a disgrace to pureblood society," says Regulus, whose words are accompanied by a sharp stinging hex and the vanishment of Barty's chair, which makes him fall on the hardwood floor, bruising his tailbone.
"Fuck Reg –" Barty begins, but Regulus just talks over him, saying, "Evan, what do you want to eat? Eggs? You're having eggs."
"I suppose I'll have eggs", Evan mutters amusedly, a pang of fondness for Regulus flowing through him, which switches into extreme confusion as he watches Regulus grab a bowl from a cupboard and start cracking the eggs himself.
"Do you not have a house elf to do this?" Evan asks, confused by the dichotomy of pureblood Black heir Regulus Black cracking eggs into a bowl like a muggle, this confusion only growing as Regulus' entire body visibly tenses and he bites out a one-word answer, "dead," before whisking the eggs with far more force than necessary.
"How did it –"
"How about you make your own fucking eggs, Evan," he snarls, slamming the bowl down on the counter and storming out of the room.
Sirius glances back in horror; whatever went on between Regulus and Kreacher is evidently still affecting him, but Evan and Barty watch him go with entertained expressions on their faces.
"Now that's the Regulus we know and love", Barty says amusedly, as Evan continues saying, "if I ever wonder if I didn't actually make it out of Azkaban and died instead, well, this is most certainly Regulus Black; angry and dramatic at all times."
"Yeah", Barty adds, always happy to slander Regulus' image, "he's usually only this touchy about you, Black."
"Me?" Sirius asks bewilderedly, "Regulus hates me."
"Like you hate him?" Evan asks with an eyebrow raised. "He made us promise on the first day of first year not to curse you, which is a promise we've been hard-pressed to keep –"
"Is that what Regulus means when he says to remember the rules?" Sirius asks, seemingly softening in both fondness and relief. "Oh, thank Merlin, I thought that was some BDSM shit you guys were into."
There's a very loaded pause, and then Barty flushes while Evan howls with laughter.
"Holy shit, Black, there may be hope for you after all."
Regulus is fracturing into pieces.
It's like now that he finally has time to think about topics that aren't just the war, everything he hasn't felt in three years is trying to come back to him in full force.
And his occlumency shields are weakening, cracking, nearly bursting at the seams.
He feels like one wrong word will make him fall apart, never to be put back together again.
He's got Evan out of prison, Barty is here and doesn't have the mark, so it will be harder to convict him of anything; he can just deny, deny, deny.
And Voldemort is dead.
His ruin Dumbledore's reputation plan is already underway, but that's really not difficult because there's an endless amount of evidence for that, and his hallow research project is simply that; a research project with no deadlines, no pressure and no ulterior motives.
Basically, Regulus has run out of things to do to distract him from his thoughts, and every hint of vulnerability that he's repressed since he was sixteen is now threatening to consume him.
Not today, Regulus thinks and does the mental equivalent of shoving his thoughts towards the back of his mind. Not today.
Barty and Evan go to bed early.
Barty isn't tired at all, but Evan clearly is, and he's still unwilling to let him out of his sight.
He doesn't know why he doesn't want to do the same with Regulus, but when he mentioned to him that he might stay with Evan instead of Regulus, his facial expression had clearly said why the fuck would that bother me?
It's good to know they're both on the same page and have both moved on from their relationship when they were sixteen.
He doesn't know if Evan wants him to stay, but he also doesn't really give him a choice. When Evan says he's going to bed, Barty follows him, and when Evan chooses a room to sleep in, Barty follows him there too.
When Evan gets in the bed, so does Barty, and then they're lying on their sides, staring at each other.
Evan's eyelids are already fluttering; Azkaban wasn't a holiday, and he's been dead on his feet all day, but he's trying to keep Barty in his view for as long as possible, just in case this really has been a dream, and he wakes up tomorrow in the freezing cold, staring at a stone wall.
"I can go if you want", Barty says hesitantly, "if you don't want me to –"
"Stay", Evan murmurs before his eyes slip shut, "I want you to stay."
It takes Barty a long time to fall asleep; he's just staring at Evan for the same reason he was staring at Barty. He can't quite believe it's real, and he's slightly scared that if he falls asleep, he'll disappear by the time he wakes up.
Eventually, he does fall asleep, and every time he jolts awake in the night, blinking frantically and reaching forwards impulsively, Evan is always there.
Remus and Sirius are lying on top of each other on the cover of their bed, snogging, until Remus realises Sirius is distracted for some unknown reason and pushes him away slightly, raising an eyebrow in a silent question.
Sirius looks slightly annoyed at having the snogging interrupted but mostly nervous about something, and he flops down next to Remus and stares at the ceiling.
"Do you think Reggie seemed, off today?" he asks, which makes Remus turn to look at him.
"I think you'd know better than me", he says honestly, "you're his brother, after all."
"Didn't mean much these past three years", Sirius mutters sullenly, another pang of guilt flooding through him at the thought of Regulus doing everything, not that he really knows what any of that everything is, over the past three years. He's been on his own, without anyone and without Sirius, who had simply accepted that he was dead without a body.
"He's here now, and that counts for something", Remus says diplomatically. "He went to Azkaban today, and even though he can apparently cast a patronus to ward away dementors, it still would've been fucking awful. Go talk to him."
"What if he hexes me?" Sirius asks even as he sits up in bed and goes to leave.
"Then you get hexed", Remus says before smirking suggestively, "if you're still sulking, you can come back here, and I'll make you feel better."
"I like that sound of that", Sirius says grinning, pecking Remus on the cheek and going to find Regulus.
His wards let him in, a simple fact that always makes Sirius smile slightly. The only time he got kicked out was the first time he brought up Kreacher, but Sirius can respect the unspokenly forbidden topic, and he reaches towards the door handle and turns it.
Regulus is sitting on his bed, and his face is scrunched up like he's got a migraine, although as he hears Sirius enter, his eyes snap open, and his face clears out.
"What do you want?" he says flatly. He really doesn't have the mental stability for Sirius right now, and he's hoping he'll leave.
These hopes are immediately crushed by Sirius hesitantly saying, "I was hoping we could talk?"
"No"
"Why not"
"Because I said no."
"Well, why can't you say yes?"
"Because I don't want to."
"But why not?"
"Because I don't want to."
"But why –"
"Will you just fuck off!"
Regulus can't do this today. His occlumency shields are hanging together by a thread, he doesn't want to feel any of what's trying to break free, and he does not want Sirius to be the one who watches him fall apart.
"I'm not fucking off until you tell me what's wrong."
"It's not like you've ever cared –"
"I've always cared –"
"Bullshit Sirius," Regulus yells out. Looks like they're doing this today, after all.
"You didn't care when I got sorted into Slytherin, and I still wanted my brother. You didn't care when I sent you a birthday card every year and made eye contact with me while you burnt them. You never cared when you left me behind the first time and condemned me to be a Death Eater, and you never cared when you left me behind the second time when you knew I was trapped and had become one. You haven't cared about me since before we went to Hogwarts, and maybe that was all fake as well; us Blacks are good at pretending, after all –"
"Oh, I'm the one who didn't care, Reggie? Are we playing this game? Who's the one who told me I was a disgrace to the family when I came home for Christmas in first year? Who's the one who watched as I took all of the hits and curses in this house and never stepped in to defend me like I always did to you? Who's the one who was desperate to become the heir and become everything that I never wanted to be? Who's the one who couldn't give a shit whether I lived or died? You! It was you!"
"You don't know anything!" Regulus practically screams back. "I killed for you! I used to go to Death Eater raids even though to be discovered would be to die just because I knew you'd be there, and that way, I could get rid of whoever was trying to kill you. And yes, that included your friends! I saved them too because I knew they were important to you in a way that I apparently never was and never will be."
Sirius' anger is fading now slightly, surprise becoming the primary emotion on his face as Regulus yells all these confessions of love hidden under layers and layers of anger like they're his greatest sins.
He's still not done.
"I became a Death Eater for you because I knew it was either you or me, and you had a life to live while I already wanted to die. I fucking looked out for you, I wanted to know about you, but I knew the only way I could protect you was to leave you alone, so that's what I did. Now, what's your excuse?"
Regulus is taking deep, heaving breaths; the last thread holding him together is weakening, fibres snapping one by one –
"Maybe there's no excuse Reggie, maybe there's a thousand, but I'm here now, we're both here, and I'm trying! I'm trying! Maybe I was wrong, maybe you were wrong, maybe we're both wrong, but I'm trying, so why won't you –"
"Because I don't think I'd survive if I lost you for the third time!" Regulus half chokes, half screams, and the last string holding him together snaps.
His occlumency shields carried him through murder and torture, but of course it was going to be Sirius and his intrinsic need to set things right and make amends and just be so Sirius that he not only cracks the walls Regulus built around himself but leaves them shattered and irreparable.
Regulus drops to his knees as three years worth of memories, emotions and trauma hit him all at once.
His breath coming in great heaving gasps that turn into hyperventilating, tears streaming down his face, and he can't see, can't hear, can't breathe until he feels Sirius' arms wrap cautiously around him and it's like the last decade never happened at all.
He's ten, it's the night before Sirius leaves to go to Hogwarts, and he's sobbing his heart out into Sirius' arms. Every fear, worry, and negative thought is spilling out of him, and he's cracking apart, falling to pieces.
He's ten, and Sirius is whispering sweet platitudes to him that soothe him and make him believe it's all going to be okay.
He's thirteen, alone at Christmas, and he's wondering why he ever believed his brother.
He's fifteen, he's just become the heir, and he's wondering why he never believed his brother.
He's nineteen, and he can't hear the platitudes he knows Sirius is saying over the sound of his hysterical sobs.
He's ten, he's nineteen, he's every age in between where he's prayed for this moment but never had the option.
He's falling apart, pieces spreading across the floor, too broken to rebuild himself as a mosaic, except Sirius is holding him together and ensuring he has a body to return to when his mind comes back to himself.
Just like at ten, Sirius holds him tighter, and at nineteen, all he can do is hold on.
Notes:
THE LAST LINE :((((((((((((( Can you tell I relate to family line by Conan Gray???
Bit of a pause on the angst, ALL GO ON THE TRAUMA!!!
This is chapter was necessary, but is not going to make everybody soft and morally righteous, it's purely because I don't think Regulus could have fallen for James if he's repressing every emotion he's felt in the past few years- both good and bad emotions, and also I do love a good breakdown in a fic.
The next chapter (of the post-prologue story), not that I've actually written it yet, starts with Regulus waking up the next morning and being like "how fucking embarassing, why did I do that" and he will probably be avoiding Sirius at all costs.
Also the only time James makes Regulus smile is when he's borderline insulting him (despite it being true).
But the Rosekiller has started slightly, and there will be more wolfstar in the next few chapters. And James has finally become self aware yay!!!
Also spoiler for the next chapter aswell (post-prologue), Reg, Barty and Evan *get revenge*
Anyways, can't wait to hear your thoughts on it all as well as anything you might want to see in future chapters xx