Regulus stared at those words, that simple name at the bottom of the page, until the room grew cold and dark and his eyes were burning with tears he hadn't realised were there.
He was shaking when he folded the letter and wrapped his arms tightly around himself in a desperate attempt to warm up. Had he missed supper? A glance at the clock told him it was indeed already past seven and he should've been back in the Common Room by now.
He tiptoed out of the classroom. Thankfully the hall was empty, and he wasn't sure what he'd do of he came across a teacher—or worse, Peeves. Or Filch. He shuddered at the mere thought of being stuck in detention as he had at the start of the year. Would they believe him if he said he'd lost track of time? Would it even matter, or was him being out after curfew reason enough to hand out detention? He didn't exactly want to find out.
He made his way through the hall and his mind kept going back to the letter burning inside his pocket, begging to be read in full. What had she written to Sirius? What could possibly be important for him to know about her of all people?
He picked up his pace and balled his fists beneath his sleeves, which he'd pulled over his hands for extra warmth. The castle was cold at night, even with the days getting longer and warmer again, and he couldn't wait to be back in the Common Room, sitting in front of the cackling fire...
A sudden bang from behind startled him and he quickly hid behind one of the suits of armour standing along the hall.
"Baby Blacksie! Poor wee baby Blacksie out of bed!"
He knew who it was before he saw the colourful little man come into view. Peeves was doing some kind of frenzied dance, tipping his hat every now and then as he kept repeating those words, louder and louder each time at "out of bed", presumably in the hope those words reached the ears of one of the professors or the caretaker.
And yet, though he knew it would be most wise to move and make a run for it, Regulus stayed where he was hidden. Maybe Peeves would simply disappear, leave him alone if he ignored him for long enough?
It was a nice idea, in theory. It may even have worked if it was a human he was up against. The poltergeist, however, remained focused despite Regulus' lack of interaction. Instead of leaving, he tried out other methods of getting his attention which resulted in Regulus having to duck away from flying objects such as chairs and desks, and leave his hideout behind the armour before it collapsed.
He dove to the ground just in time to avoid being hit by a candle holder. "Just stop it! Stop it!"
"Baby brother Black's feisty, is he? Baby brother Black wants to play?"
"I do not want to play! I want to—Peeves just stop!" A few books came hurling towards him and he had to dodge them by jumping and ducking from side to side.
They continued their little dance for a while, and Regulus was exhausted and ready to give up and sleep in the hallway for the night when he caught a glimpse of blonde hair, and the blonde hair belonged to a girl he knew all too well.
"Peeves! Should I fetch the Bloody Baron or will you leave my cousin alone?"
He scrambled to his feet and quickly got over to Narcissa's side, grasping hold of her hand.
She stared intensely at the poltergeist in front of them. "I mean what I say," she said. "I'll get him right now, if I have to. But you don't want that, do you?"
Peeves appeared thoughtful for a few more moments, but drifted off—sulking, but harmless.
He breathed a sigh of relief and thanked her. "I never thought that would work."
"Bella got along well with the Baron."
He smiled to himself. He could already picture it, Bella and the Bloody Baron at tea, gossiping about what others (living or dead) had come up with... yes, it made sense, in a way, for them to have been close.
"The main question, of course, is what you were doing up there past your curfew," Narcissa asked as they walked down the marble steps of the grand staircase.
He hesitated and scratched his head, coming to a halt halfway down. "I, err, lost track of time."
"Did you, now? Doing what?"
"Err. Nothing?"
"Interesting, to lose track of time doing 'nothing'."
"Let's just go. I'm tired."
They walked in silence for the rest of the way down. He couldn't tell her – but why not? She deserved to know! – he just couldn't. It was as if his throat swelled shut at the mere thought of telling anyone who had sent that letter and to whom and why.
When he was back in his own dormitory, lying in his own bed, he decided he had enough of it. Perhaps if he read its full contents it wouldn't be as bad, then there wouldn't be any guesswork and he could speak freely about all there was to talk about.
Dear cousin, he started again, his stomach clenching tightly as he forced himself to read on.
How do you do? It's been a while. I'm well, the birth wasn't too bad and our girl is a Metamorphmagus! I never knew halfbloods could be Metamorphmagi, but I suppose that's just another thing they told us that has no actual evidence to it.
He read it once, twice, thrice... the fifth time he went through the words it had become so clear that he was not making this up that it made him nauseous.
She hadn't just married the Mudblood, she'd given birth to his child. A halfblood Metamorphmagus, if Andromeda was to be believed—and she wasn't. She was a lying, deceiving, horrible traitor who wouldn't know the truth if it bit her in the arse. She probably only thought the halfblood was a Metamorphmagus because she was too blind to see the truth: that she'd given birth to a mongrel that didn't deserve this life. That she'd made a horrible mistake and ought to come back. She ought to let the Mudblood take the halfblood, and come back home.
His eyes flickered back to the text.
We decided to name her Nymphadora. Ted wanted to name her Dora, but that's such a simple name, I just couldn't, especially not for such a special little girl. We agreed Dora could be a nickname for her, though.
Are you still coming over for Easter? Or are you scared we'll have you babysit her? Ted's parents will be here, too, he confirmed yesterday that the plans they had at Ted's sister's are cancelled. She just went through a bad breakup with her boyfriend, the poor thing...
I really should check on the little one now, so I'll keep it short. See you soon!
Andy Tonks
That name. He knew it was coming, and yet... he still couldn't believe his eyes.
"Andromeda..." he muttered under his breath, as if explaining to himself what he was looking at. Saying it out loud, her name, in a situation such as this one... it was painful. That name. How such powerful emotions could be hidden with colourful ink and curly letters, how her adding that Muggle name made things all the worse.
The name glared at him from the bottom of the letter. It yelled at him. It berated him for not telling anyone back when he had the chance.
And yet, he'd written. He'd given her a chance to come back, a chance she hadn't taken. He'd begged her and she was too self-absorbed to care for just a second what it meant for him to lose a cousin, what it meant for Bella and Cissy to lose a sister, what it meant for her parents...!—no. He shouldn't think about such things, he should be glad to be rid of her.
And he was. He was glad to be rid of her, no matter how painful the twists in his insides became when he thought about what had happened, no matter how wet his eyes were, no matter how painful the headaches. He was glad.
Good riddance.
With that thought, he put the letter aside and drifted into an uneasy sleep. When he awoke he had but one thing in mind: he had to talk to Sirius, for the question remained—why was she writing to Sirius, and why was Sirius writing to her?
So he spent his last week at Hogwarts looking for his brother—he saw him at breakfast a couple of times and at lunch and supper, that much was a given, but whenever he came anywhere near him, Sirius ran off or hid behind his three so-called friends.
When the week came to an end, he still carried his brother's letter in his pocket and he still hadn't spoken him, nor seen him in private, nor been able to pass any kind of message to him in any way.
Saturday morning he left the castle, and when he didn't see Sirius anywhere near the carriages either, he lost all the hope he had left. So he rode with Narcissa and watched the thestrals pull their carriage along.
He had to agree with Bellatrix on that they were majestic creatures, although he wouldn't have them at his wedding even if they were the last horses on the face of the planet. Not that he had time to fantasise about his wedding—he may not have found Sirius, but the fact remained that she had clearly written to Sirius as part of an ongoing conversation, and that was quite the problem. Not to mention the slim possibility remained that Sirius was on his way to her!
Was he to tell Mother and Father about this? What would they say if they found out Sirius had been doing this?
They'd yell, probably. Or at least Mother would, and it wouldn't be pretty. He could already picture her face red-hot with anger as it had been last summer—but this time it would be even more justified! Sirius was conversing with a blood traitor and Merlin knows what else. Was it not his duty to report such matters? Last time he kept a secret it led to the loss of his cousin to the bad side, and he would not allow for that to happen a second time.
He had to do what he failed to do for his cousin; he had to make sure Sirius was safe.
"Regulus?" Narcissa stood with her arms crossed, and almost everyone else seemed to already have left the carriages. Was it his fault he had bigger things on his mind than getting off on time?!
He jumped off the carriage and followed Narcissa to the train, getting on board just as the whistle signalled it was time to leave. He followed her into an empty compartment and sat down by the window, watching as Hogsmeade became a dot in the distance.
Two weeks. He'd be away for two weeks and then they'd be back again. Two weeks filled with having to explain Sirius' absence to everyone who cared to know—which meant the entire family. He shuddered at the thought.
"Is it odd, being in your last year?" he asked, shifting his attention to Narcissa in the hope to distract his own mind a little.
She smiled sadly. "A bit, but it's all right."
"What will you do after?"
"Whatever I want. There's nothing stopping me."
"What's that, then?"
"I haven't really thought about it yet."
"Oh." It was barely audible, but somehow Narcissa made out what he meant with it.
"I'll keep in touch. You'll see me every holiday you're home from school."
"But not here," he mumbled. Without Narcissa... who would chase off Peeves? Who would stop Avery? Who would help him with his homework without being utterly annoying about it? The Peasegoods?! Would he truly have to sink that low?!
"It's only a few years. You'll be all right on your own. Believe me, you'll not even notice I'm gone."
Easy for her to say, he thought bitterly. She wasn't the one being left alone. She never had to deal with Hogwarts on her own, with Bella – and her – around all the time. But Regulus was all alone. Sirius didn't count in this equation, Sirius barely seemed to be willing to acknowledge him as a brother, running around with that Potter. It was unfair, being the youngest of the family. Very unfair indeed.
They sat in silence for whole minutes on end until the door slid open.
"Anything off the Trolley, dears?"
Relieved, he jumped to his feet and bought some Cauldron Cakes; Narcissa got a Chocolate Frog. They also bought some pumpkin juice and the trolley lady was on her way again.
He ate his cakes in silence and watched the landscapes flow by through the window. How many hours until they reached London? Surely this trip could be made far more efficiently. Floo Powder, Portkeys, even flying on broomsticks would be faster!
He was about to ask Narcissa for her opinion but she was staring out of the window, her chocolate frog untouched as she dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. She was lost in her own emotional world of girly things, so he sprang to his feet, muttered something about going to find Sirius, and left. He had no patience for this right now.
Home sweet home, Regulus smiled as they stepped through the front door. The months he'd been away suddenly seemed mere minutes and whole years at the same time. The portraits that hung on the wall here in the hallway, the grand oak doors that led him to the dining room, the ornate table he sat at and the cutlery and china – complete with Black Crest and motto – and the food Kreacher had prepared... there truly was no place like home.
It pained him that Sirius didn't see that. That Sirius would rather be at Hogwarts, in the cold and noisy Great Hall. That he'd rather stay away from the greatness that was their family.
At least Sirius wasn't at the traitor's. He hadn't seen him on the train. That was the only upside.
After dinner he said goodnight to his parents and made his way upstairs, his hand trailing over the elf heads he passed on the way there. Every little detail about this place was a joy.
He reached his bedroom and fell face-down into the covers. This was the one thing in the world nobody could take from him, no matter how many Aurors they sent his way, no matter how many times he was set on fire. This was it. The sounds of his parents all the way downstairs doing their own thing, the familiar crack of Kreacher's Apparition, the lovely scents that invaded his nose wherever he went—smelling his pillow, his blanket, his room... everything was the way it always was.
And with that, he fell asleep, to dream of fires and a laughing Avery, to dream of fires in the fireplace at home, to dream of warm and cozy dinners, of family meetings and festivities.
He woke up early the following morning – it was still dark outside – and he stared at the stars through his window until the sky outside grew yellow, red and blue as the sun began its ascent.
It was odd to be back home and actually have the time to do things—last Christmas they had all been too busy stressing about Bellatrix's wedding, and no doubt it would be the same this summer. Weddings so close to one another really ought to be illegal.
But now... hours upon hours of free time he could waste watching the stars grow invisible, hours upon hours of free time to spend sitting around the house or talking to Mother and Father.
He put his bag, which he'd simply tossed to the floor last night, down on his bed and took out his textbooks, scrolls of empty parchment, his quills, sharpeners, inksets, and all other little trinkets he had decided to take home with him (including Bella's cheatset, since the twins were staying at Hogwarts he just couldn't risk it). He put them on his desk. There, he smiled to himself. It was already looking as if he'd never left.
One glance at the clock told him it was late enough to go downstairs and see if breakfast was ready to be served. He changed into a set of clean, non-uniform robes and opened the door.
"-T NASTY, UNGRATEFUL SWINE I-"
He winced and quickly closed the door again, silencing his mother's screeches. She hadn't taken the news of Sirius staying at Hogwarts very well, and he hadn't even told her about the letter yet. He'd only said Sirius wasn't coming home, and that he hadn't seen him on the train—not lies, exactly. He really hadn't seen him, after all.
But the letter, now on his desk, was all the proof needed to see there was more going on. Mother may be mad about Sirius staying at Hogwarts, but she'd be absolutely raging if she knew the full truth. And he really didn't want to be there when that happened.
He lay back down on his bed, staring at the ceiling as he went over the letter again in his mind. Andromeda's halfblood child, the Easter invitation... the tone of the letter was so casual, as if it was a regular occurrence—that's what bothered him most, if they regularly spoke, but why?! Why would they speak? Was Sirius lonely? But that couldn't be it; he had three friends and a brother he could talk to were that the case!
What could Andromeda possibly have that he did not? She was older, yes, but not wiser, with her traitorous tendencies and her love of all things Muggle and Mudblood. Besides, Narcissa was older than Sirius, as was Bellatrix. Plenty of older cousins to choose from! There was absolutely no need for Sirius to seek out the traitor in that scenario.
Maybe he should tell Mother and Father, then, since there was no real reason for Sirius to write to her aside from him wanting to. And that was the worst possible option of all. No Black wants to write to blood traitors, that just wasn't how things were done, and they certainly didn't make home visits for Easter!
He was almost at the door again when he sank back to the floor. Sirius hadn't been on the train... well, he hadn't been able to find him there, anyway. He had looked, yes, everywhere. But nothing. Surely this meant he wasn't going to see Andromeda? Surely that meant even Sirius laughed about the implication a Black were to visit a blood traitor and a Mudblood for Easter? It wouldn't be fair to tell Mother and Father about something he was fairly sure wouldn't happen.
But Sirius had already visited them once before. What was stopping him from doing it again? Especially if everyone else thought he was at Hogwarts, so the risks weren't as great as before. Oh, this was just impossible!
He sprang to his feet again and yanked open his bedroom door—better safe than sorry. He'd made that mistake before.
Mother was still yelling but he ignored her screams as he raced down the steps. He skidded to a halt in front of the drawing room, where Mother's screams came from, a good indication his parents were both in there.
He knocked. Once, twice, thrice. Mother's screeches drowned out the noise and he slowly pushed it open.
"I'VE WORKED HARD TO MAKE SURE HE WANTS FOR NOTHING!" Mother yelled as he stepped inside the drawing room. "HE WANTS FOR NOTHING AND THAT'S STILL NOT ENOUGH!"
He made eye contact with his father, who sat on the sofa rather helplessly looking between his wife and son.
"Dearest-" he started.
"DO NOT PICK HIS SIDE!"
"Walburga, dear-" he tried again.
"I AM CALM!"
Father stood up and walked over to her. "Come now, dearest, Regulus is here."
Mother stood as if frozen for half a second, a perplexed expression on her face as she turned around to look at him. He smiled sheepishly and gave a little wave, unable to find the words he wanted to say.
"Regulus," she exclaimed, crouching down as if he was a child. Almost on instinct, he took a small step back. She put her hands on his shoulders, holding him still with minimal pressure. "What's the matter, Regulus?"
He took a deep breath, and opened his mouth to speak, but what was he to say? He looked at her. There was a hardness in her eyes that made him feel as if he'd done something terribly wrong. He closed his mouth again—he couldn't say it. He couldn't tell her about Sirius. Especially not now. Coming downstairs had been a terrible mistake.
"Walburga," Father spoke his warning, "leave him be."
"Come now, Orion, am I not even allowed to speak to my own son?"
"Of course you are, dear, all I mean to say is that it is high time we have breakfast."
Mother looked back to him and Regulus nodded. "Breakfast sounds good."
Mother patted his shoulder and smiled. "All right, breakfast it is."
She let go of him and stood up, leaving the room without saying another word. Regulus looked to Father, who gave him a small smile. "Don't mind her. She's been having a rough few days, hearing Sirius wasn't even coming home... It's nothing for you to worry about."
He followed Father to the dining room downstairs where Kreacher was already setting the table Mother was seated at.
He sat down next to Father, opposite Mother, and helped himself to some bread and butter. He took a few bites but the taste was hidden beneath the heavy shame and guilt he felt over Sirius' absence, and it was increasingly hard to swallow with each bite he took. Why couldn't he just tell them? He hadn't even promised anyone he wouldn't tell, and yet it was harder to speak his mind than he'd ever thought possible.
"What's on your mind, son? Speak up," Father probed.
"I just don't feel well."
"Is it your brother?"
"What, Sirius?" he asked, as if he had more than one brother, in the hope to divert Father's attention, or that mentioning his name might set off Mother—anything to avoid the conversation he was about to have.
"Yes, Sirius," Father said.
"What about him?" he asked as innocently as possible.
Father let out an exasperated sigh and Mother cut her sausages with more ferocity than he had seen in a long time. They weren't stupid; he knew they were smart enough to understand exactly what was going on, even if they (hopefully) didn't know anything about the letter, but that didn't make it any easier to talk to them about this. What was he to say, really? He couldn't just say 'your son is at Andromeda's' as if it was nothing!
And yet... Sirius could be there right now, even though he hadn't seen him on the train and he truly had looked quite thoroughly. But maybe it was best not to mention Andromeda at all, and to just say 'your son is staying with blood traitors and Mudbloods', which would be true even if Sirius had stayed behind at Hogwarts. But it also carried less weight, exactly because it wasn't clear if he meant a Hogwarts-setting or a home-setting, and the selection of Mudbloods and blood traitors was too large for them to figure out he meant Andromeda the blood traitor, not a random other one.
Father's hand on his shoulder disrupted his racing thoughts that hadn't been quiet ever since he had seen that letter.
"He'll come to his senses," Father said. "And you'll see plenty of him at Hogwarts when you go back."
He decided it was best not to argue with that. Mother and Father wouldn't understand how little he saw of Sirius, they were under the impression they were the best of friends—they were. Once. But that ended the second Sirius set foot on that train, and perhaps even before then; they weren't ever as close as Narcissa and Bellatrix and she were.
He asked to be excused and spent the rest of the day in his room, pacing around and thinking about the letter that lay on his desk. He read it over a few more time in search of anything new, clues or hints, anything that could point him towards where Sirius was now.
He skipped lunch and when dinner came around he called for Kreacher, who appeared with a crack.
"Master Regulus?"
"Hello, Kreacher," he greeted. Kreacher just looked at him, his head tilted slightly. "How are you today?" Regulus prompted, hoping to get some sort of reply.
The house elf blinked, as if he didn't understand the question. Something about seeing the elf this way brought him back to not so long ago—there was a time Kreacher made him cake, there was a time he had hugged the elf. Of course, he grew up. He was eleven now, nearly twelve. He knew better.
"Kreacher is working hard, Master Regulus," the elf concluded.
Regulus smiled. "But how are you?"
"Kreacher is polishing the silver."
"But how do you feel," he stressed. "Emotions. Feelings."
He couldn't help but feel childish, the way he spoke to his house elf about feelings and emotions, as if he were his equal... but he truly did care for the elf, and he didn't want to hurt him. Not again.
When Kreacher failed to answer, he gave up and plopped down on his bed. "Can you get me something to eat?"
"Of course, Master Regulus."
"And tell Mother and Father I'm not feeling well enough to come downstairs for dinner. That was all."
"Right away, Master Regulus."
And the elf disappeared again with a loud crack, leaving Regulus alone with his thoughts. He really had to make his mind up about this. He couldn't do nothing forever. Not when he knew staying silent could be deadly, and losing Sirius the way he had lost Andromeda – to their own silly, stupid actions – was the last thing he wanted.