"Barty?"
You freeze, foot lifted and ready to fall onto the step. "Yes, Father?"
He appears, a deep frown carved into his face. "I thought you were studying," he says, his voice low and dangerous, the way it always is when there's been trouble at the Ministry.
This is dangerous territory. One wrong word, one little slip, and you're as good as dead. "I was," you insist.
Technically, after you snuck out, you and Regulus had studied for a few minutes. This half truth is the only thing keeping your voice level.
"I fancied a snack," you continue, feeling a little more confident in yourself. "So I took a break."
His brows raise, and his eyes move over your face. You try not to look away, not to give him any reason not to trust you.
"Is that so?" he asks, his voice sharp.
"Yes, sir."
"Then why was your room empty when I sent Winky to check on you earlier?"
Your heart hammers in your chest. Is he bluffing? His face is too straight; you can't be sure. "I must have-"
But your father has had enough. He marches over, grabbing your wrist and marching you up the stairs.
"Go away, Reg," you groan when his face appears in your window.
Regulus frowns. "Come on, Barty. I'm freezing my arse off out here," he calls, and you leap to your feet to let him in so that he doesn't keep talking loudly and wake the whole house.
"You're limping," he says when his feet are planted safely on your carpet.
"I'm not," you mutter, color flooding your cheeks.
"There! You're doing it again. What is it?"
"Regulus, it's nothing," you insist, wishing he'd get the hint and just drop it.
Of course, you're not that lucky. Regulus reaches out, tugging your shirt up enough that he can see the purple-black bruise marbling your hips. Another tug, and he uncovers the trail that snakes its way up to your ribs, back, and stomach.
"Barty..."
You tug your shirt down, furious tears burning your eyes.
"He did this?"
Reluctantly, you nod.
"Dammit. Where is he? I'll kill him right bloody now!"
You shake your head, pulling him close, desperately holding onto him. For once, he lets you win, and he softens against your touch, kissing you gently. "Just wait, Barty," he murmurs. "I'll be the one to kill him. Got it?"
You almost laugh. For all the talks of Death Eaters and all the greater things that wait for you after Hogwarts, you don't really imagine Regulus as a killer. But you don't tell him that. Instead, you let him guide you onto the bed, his lips moving softly over your every bruise like he can kiss the pain away.