The nausea lingered, paired with more and more nightmares every night, even as the temperatures fell. Some nights were so bad he decided to get up and roam around for a bit in a desperate attempt to catch sleep again. Normally this wasn't an issue, everyone was asleep and he bothered no-one with his nighttime wanderings, but tonight his feet barely reached the floor when he heard his brother call out his name.

He turned around to face him. "What?"

Sirius sat up in his bed. "How come you're still awake?" he asked.

"I don't feel too well."

"You're not ill, are you?"

Of course he wasn't ill! He just didn't feel well, that was all—but when he shook his head to answer(for speaking to his brother about this felt odd, as if he was talking to a stranger; after all, they hadn't spoken in so long, and when they had, it had been about trivial tings, or arguments), he felt a wave of nausea and was overcome with dizziness so that he had to sit back down on his bed to avoid toppling over.

When he next looked up, Sirius was at his bedside. "Maybe Aunt Druella can make you a potion of one thing or another, fix you up?"

That did sound rather good, he had to admit. He got back to his feet and leaned on Sirius' shoulder for support. Together they walked across the hall to where Aunt Druella and Uncle Cygnus slept.

He leaned against the wall and Sirius knocked a few times before the door opened and Uncle Cygnus emerged. "What?"

"Regulus isn't feeling well," Sirius explained.

"What's wrong, then? Feel bad for betraying your parents?"

"I don't feel so good," he said, "that's all."

Uncle Cygnus disappeared into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

He looked to his brother. What now? Was he getting that potion, or had Uncle Cygnus just gone back to sleep?

"What did he mean?" Sirius asked, leaning against the wall. "With the 'betraying your parents' bit."

He stared at the ground and shuffled his feet. "I don't know?"

"I'm not mad or anything," his brother said, chuckling. "I'm impressed. Didn't think you had it in you."

His head snapped up. "Why's that?"

"You're soft. You're all talk, no action. Remember how we were going to leave this life? Go our own way? But you liked your comfortable-"

The bedroom door opened again, silencing Sirius. Aunt Druella handed Regulus a vial holding a thick, reddish brown potion. He stared at it in his hands before drinking it all in one go. He felt himself go all warm, from the tips of his toes to the tips of his ears. He smiled and looked up to thank her, but she had already gone back into the bedroom.

"So, betraying Mother and Father," Sirius started again.

"Will you shut up about it, please?"

"No. I want to know what happened."

"Well I'm not telling," he said, crossing the hall back to their room. He heard Sirius following him but couldn't be bothered to look back. He had enough on his mind already and he didn't want Sirius' comments and questions added to his list of things to deal with, especially not after months of being ignored.

He sat down on his bed and watched his brother pass him by, expecting him to go to his own bed, but he didn't; Sirius walked up to the window on the sde to his bed and stared outside. A few seconds passed before he said: "Don't you just love the stars?"

Of course he loved the stars. Sirius knew this, it was nothing but a trick to get him to talk. But he wasn't tired, so he'd play. For now. "Don't you just love the stars?" he countered.

"They're nothing special. They're annoying enough in Astronomy."

"I love Astronomy."

He snorted. "Yeah, but studying bright, twinking dots in the sky and the way they move isn't something that interests me."

"Your loss," he said, but he was curious. Why was Sirius staring outside if he wasn't trying to get him to talk? If it wasn't the stars he loved? He knew he was likely falling for a trap of some sort, but curiosity got the better of him; he got up again and walked over, following his brother's gaze... and then he saw it: bigger and brighter than the stars put together, and reason enough to not go outside at all: the full moon.

"It's the moon, isn't it?" he asked. "It's pretty," he added when Sirius didn't answer.

"It's not pretty," said Sirius. "It's a horrible, horrible thing."

"Why?"

Sirius was silent for a few seconds, then he said: "It doesn't matter."

"But-"

"It's late. We should go back to bed."

Sirius left him at the window, alone, and went back to bed, just as he had said. Regulus didn't understand—since when did Sirius care about a good night's sleep? He knew a full moon was hardly ever good news, but they were safe from the werewolves here, inside, so there was no reason to react to the moon so badly; it truly was pretty to look at, after all.

But he went back to bed as well, and didn't bring it back up again after that; just as Sirius didn't bring up his betrayal any more. And exactly a week later, it was his birthday, and a week after that was Narcissa's wedding and temperatures were finally below 20C again, signalling the end of summer was rapidly approaching.

The sun was shinng and the sky a pale blue, which was promising (especially when compared to the disaster that was the weather at Bellatrix and Rodolphus' wedding) and had Regulus in high spirits. Not even Uncle Cygnus' snide comments or Sirius' grimace could stop him. Unlike Bella, Narcissa had chosen for an indoor weddig at a church near Lucius' place, so even if the weather was only playing tricks, they'd be warm and dry.

He had to admit that it was quite exciting, a wedding, but two of them so close together really was a bit much. It had only been a few months since Bella got married, after all.

He sat next to his brother on the second row of chairs, the first being reserved for Bellatrix and her husband, his brother, their father... Aunt Druella sat there, too, as did Mother and Father—it really wasn't fair, sitting behind grownups so all he could see was their backs, but he soon found that if he leaned forward and looked between Mother and Father, he could get a glimpse of Lucius in his fancy robes.

He pointed this out to Sirius, but Sirius didn't care. It didn't matter, anyway, as Lucius wasn't watching him. Of course not; he wouldn't be surprised if he was the most hated guest in attendance now, after the whole thing at the Ministry. Not that Mother and Father seemed to care much about what had happened, they were more absorbed into the wedding than anyone else.

"Big Nose is here," said Sirius suddenly, nudging him and pointing at the greasy haired boy across the isle he knew to be a Slytherin. "Let's say hi."

"Let's stay put. We don't want to ruin Cissy's wedding."

"Don't we?" asked Sirius, but right then the doors in the back of the church opened and Narcissa appeared, her arm linked with Uncle Cygnus' as they walked up to Lucius. The both of them were dressed in white and silver, and Narcissa could hardly keep herself from grinning as she met an equally happy Lucius.

He couldn't see much more of them from behind all the grownups, but from what he heard, it was beautiful—they promised to stay faithful and loyal to one another until the end of times and he caught a glimpse of their faces when Severus Snape handed them their wedding rings—he was the boy from before and he had to elbow Sirius after he proclaimed, a little too loudly: "ew, gross, imagine that touching your wedding ring!"

But although beautiful, it was hardly something to cry over. All of the grownups in front of them burst into tears when Narcissa became Mrs Malfoy—he'd swear he even saw Father going for his eyes! What was it about weddings that made adults go mad?

They all filed out of the church to the field on its left, which had been set with tables for the occasion. The sky above still showed no signs of rain or even clouds so they had nothing to fear as they sat at the round tables with white tablecloths. One table, in the middle of the field, carried red and white roses and a wedding cake with miniature figurines of both Narcissa and Lucius, who smiled at anyone who looked at them. They even waved!

He sat at a table with his parents and brother. Whilst he had arrived at the wedding with his aunt and uncle, the idea was that they'd go back home with Mother and Father after; they only had two full days left before they had to go back to school and they still needed their school supplies, and whilst their letters certainly were delivered to them there, Aunt Druella and Uncle Cygnus refused to take them to Diagon Alley, and Sirius' suggestion of going alone got nothing but laughs, as if it had been the most ridiculous proposal.

"How have you been this summer?" Father asked, although his gaze didn't meet Regulus' eye and Mother looked only to Sirius.

"Good," said Sirius.

"Have you finished your homework?"

"All of it, of course," said Sirius. "I'm all set, we just need my new textbooks—and a broom."

"A broom?"

"I'm trying out for the Quidditch team."

"No, you're not. No Quidditch until you change your subject choice."

"Change what subject choice?!"

"Cygnus wrote saying you signed up for Muggle Studies. We've already written the school that-"

"That what, Mother? Muggle Studies is a valid option, they'll never-"

"They will take you off that list, and unless you tell me what you want to do in its stead-"

"I don't want to do ANYTHING-" Sirius' voice was cut off and he continued on with his rant without producing a sound.

Regulus looked around the field at the other guests. Nobody was staring at them, so Sirius' little outburst must've been silenced quickly enough by Father so they didn't cause a scene; Father was quite good at that, after all, he lived with Mother all year round.

Sirius would be a Third Year soon. New subjects, new experiences... he'd get to go to Hogsmeade without getting detention for it—if his slip was signed, at least. But why wouldn't they sign it?

"Psst, Reg!"

He looked back to his brother, who had regained his voice. He pointed at the cake. "Watch this!"

Sirius got up and slowly crept closer to the cake. The miniature Narcissa and Lucius looked up at him and gave him a wave before they went back to their dance.

He held his breath as Sirius took his wand from a pocket in his formal robes and tapped the miniatures with it. Then he ran back to his seat with a stupid grin plastered on his face, sitting back down as if nothing had happened. Mother and Father appeared not to have noticed his absence.

"What did you do?!" he hissed.

"You'll see. Keep watching."

He looked back at the cake and made eye contact with the miniature Lucius. Someone walked past, blocking the cake from sight, but when he next saw it the miniatures were scooping up handfuls of their own cake.

And then—miniature Lucius tossed the cake across the field with such a force it could've been a good substitute for a Bludger, and it hit the real life Lucius full on in his face. He stood bedazzled for a few seconds and Narcissa hastily cleaned away the cake from his face, only to get some tangled up in her own hair.

Next to him, Sirius was laughing hysterically. He didn't really understand the fun of it. It was a wedding. This was cheap. Childish, even.

He glanced at his parents. They must've seen it. They were right there. Why weren't they doing anything? Even now, they just sat there. They were looking over their shoulders in Narcissa and Lucius' direction but not actually doing anything. Not even reprimanding Sirius or fixing up the cake. And he just couldn't understand why. Surely they didn't think this was funny?

"He did this!" the greasy Snape boy yelled. He stood by the cake, pointing at Sirius with his wand. The miniatures had disappeared.

"What, me?" Sirius said, straightening himself and putting on an innocent face. "Never. Wouldn't dare."

"I saw you," the boy retaliated, marching towards them. "You bewitched it. You-"

Lucius appeared out of nowhere and put a hand on the Slytherin's shoulder. "Severus, what are you doing at this table? Are you a Black?" he questioned.

"No, but-"

"Then wouldn't it be best if you left these people alone? They needn't be troubled-"

"But he bewitched the cake!" Again, he pointed to Sirius. "I saw it happen."

"Now, it's rude to point..." Lucius pushed down Snape's finger and looked at Sirius. "Well? Did you?"

"Of course not."

"That's settled, then."

Lucius steered him away from the table and Sirius burst out laughing again—there was yellowish goo everywhere not even a second later. He wasn't even sure what had caused it at first, until he saw his brother grasping hold of his nose, desperate to stop the nasty stuff from squirting out into the open.

He looked to Mother and Father, who were watching the scene but didn't interfere. He looked to Lucius, who didn't seem to have noticed what happened (he stood with his back facing them, talking to someone else) but next to him stood Snape, who was in the process of putting away his wand.

It was him. The look on that greasy face just proved his guilt, as the boy couldn't hide his smirk and kept glancing in their direction. And since no-one else was doing anything about it... he got up from his seat and took a few steps towards Snape, reaching for his wand in his pocket in the process—he toppled over, tripping over nothing, falling face-down onto the grass. A sharp pain radiated from his knees and he tried to turn himself around, or to get back on his feet, but all movement was impossible due yo the hellish pain. He let out an involuntary scream and turned his head so he could see Snape, who made his way over to him.

In a flash it was done. Snape was thrown against the wall of the church and his pain subdued but the exhaustion it had caused lingered. He lay for a few more seconds in the grass, catching his breath and regaining his strength.

"Silly boy. You have no duelling experience," Bellatrix, from behind him, chuckled before helping him back to his feet and wiping some grass off his robes. She ruffled his hair, as if he were a child. "That's better, isn't it?"

He huffed. He searched the field for Snape but the boy appeared to be gone.

"Then teach me," he said. "Teach me to duel."

Bellatrix smiled. "Maybe."

'Maybe' was honestly more than he had expected, considering how a similar conversation with Narcissa had gone back at Hogwarts.

She steered him back towards his table, but Mother, Father and Sirius were no longer there. The whole field had erupted into a chaotic mess after the little failed duel he'd had, something even the cake hadn't been able to do. Had he really ruined Cissy's wedding when he'd just been mad at Sirius for attempting to do the same?

He sat back in his chair wallowing in shame and self-pity for the rest of the day, even after everyone had calmed down again; when cake was served (or what was left of it), he declined to eat and when music played he didn't get up to dance.

He didn't go up to the bride and groom to congratulate them and barely looked at them when he said goodbye at the end of the day. He had ruined everything. First the fiasco at the Ministry at the start of summer, then everything he had done over summer, not least of all the way he had ruined showing Sirius the burial chamber... and now this. He was one big failure.

He didn't speak again until later that evening, when he sat in Sirius' room back at home. Sirius had one of his rare moments where he actually decided to talk to Regulus and even on a day such as today, where he ruined everything, Regulus didn't pass on such an opportunity. Especially not if he was able to make amends so that the coming school year would be more bearable now that Narcissa wouldn't be there for it. He'd be all alone if it wasn't for Sirius. Alone with the Peasegoods, alone with Avery... he shuddered at the thought. What if Avery really had been nice only because of Narcissa and he'd go back to how he'd been acting at the start of the school year, ridiculing him and teasing him at any chance he got?

They'd talked a bit about nonsense topics such as the weather before Regulus changed to topic.

"How did you do the thing with the cake?"

"Oh—that's a good one. So, did they have you do the dancing pineapple thing? Well, James and I have been working on it ever since to let objects do other things than tapdance, and in May we finally managed to make this work and voilà, there you go, we created a masterpiece!"

"You're a genius."

He grinned. "James came up with the idea to joke around at the wedding, but I'll pass your congratulations on."

He shook his head. "You're literally a genius. You changed a spell!"

"It's not as hard as it looks. You know that."

"How am I supposed to know how easy or hard it is to change a spell?"

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Then where did you learn the spell you used in that duel?"

"What duel?"

"The one in school, of course."

"I didn't have a duel?"

"With Potter," Sirius stressed.

"I had no duel with Potter," he said, agitated. Sirius knew this. Sirius had been angry with him the whole time precisely because of this. "I was caught by Filch out of bed, I was in detention for hours that night."

Sirius paled.

"What?!"

"Nevermind. I must've... misremembered it or something."

"But-"

"Let's talk about something else, Reg. I'm not in the mood."

"OK..." he tried to think of another subject.

"What do you think is up with Mother and Father?" Sirius asked.

"They're out of it."

"Really? Hadn't noticed."

He tossed a pillow at him. "I'm serious!"

"No, I am."

He was about to throw another pillow at him but instead just shook his head. "That was... really bad," he laughed.

"Oh, so bad," Sirius agreed. "James loves the joke, though."

"Of course he does," he muttered, putting the pillow back down.

"I prefer them this way, honestly."

"What, Mother and Father?" He shook his head. "It's odd. They're odd."

"They're our parents, Reg. Of course they're odd."

"Odder than usual. I've..."

"What?"

He bit his lip. Their behaviour had hardly changed since the start of summer; they were either still under the Imperius Curse, or never had been. And with everything everyone had said since, he knew which the answer was. He knew he'd messed up, he knew he was a sorry excuse for a son and he knew he had to make up for it. Sirius already knew he'd betrayed them somehow, but did he deserve to know the full story, with everything he'd done? No matter how much of a failure he was, he was no Sirius. He wasn't off to Mudbloods at Easter, he wasn't in Gryffindor, he wasn't friends with halfbloods or wanting to take up Muggle Studies. He was better than that.

"Nothing," he said after a while.

"No, tell me. What's going on? Are you OK?"

"I'm fine."

"I don't believe you. This is about the betrayal thing, isn't it? You did something to them."

He scoffed. "I didn't do anything to them."

"Then what happened?!"

"Fine. I went to the Ministry about... well, about Mother and Father... for the Imperius Curse..." he had barely whispered the last part. It sounded so stupid, saying it out loud.

Sirius snorted. "Really? When?"

He stared at his hands.

"Oh, you didn't! You're why they've been ignoring us all summer, why we weren't home? You did that?!"

Sirius surprised him with a hug, and through his laughs he said: "You're the real genius here!"

He felt even more of a failure at that and wrestled free. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight," he said, a lump forming in his throat as tears pricked his eyes. He tried viciously to blink them away, to stop himself from being a baby and crying—he was a Black. He could deal with this in a mature way.

He left his brothers room and entered his own. He knew it had been a mistake, talking to him. But that was hardly a surprise; everything he did lately was a mistake, all of it. He was a mistake.

Two days later, on the first of September, he was back on Platform 9. It was odd, being back. The summer had lasted an eternity but at the same time it felt as if he only just arrived here yesterday and now he was going back already.

Sirius ran off the second they landed, but Regulus took his time to look around the platform first, to take in the crowd and to release some of the tension that continued to build up whenever he got here; a small part of him still couldn't help but be afraid, to be prepared in case of danger. But the danger never came.

When the whistle sounded he turned to face his parents. "I'm really sorry," he mumbled, one last time, before pulling his trunk along and leaving him be. He didn't even wait for them to reply.

He managed to find an empty compartment and popped down, leaving his trunk right in front of the door in the hope it served as a deterrent. He had no need for company. And it worked: students kept glancing into his compartment but his trunk idea seemed to be working for all of them moved on.

All but one.

Just as the train started to move and Regulus thought he'd won the compartment to himself, the compartment door slid open. A pale, freckled boy with straw blond hair stalked in without a word, pushing Regulus' trunk along to clear the path. He shoved it under the seat and stared at him with a withering look. "You're supposed to keep your things with you," he said, and he left only to get his own trunk inside as well

Regulus watched him uncertainly. The boy put his own trunk underneath the other bench and sat down, staring out of the window at the changing landscape.

"This is my compartment," said Regulus.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the boy said, "must've missed the name tag."

Regulus huffed. That wasn't fair—the boy could have seen him sitting here, could have known he didn't want anyone coming in, hence the trunk. He was just being an arse for no reason, but he couldn't force him out.

So he spent the next quarter of an hour in silence, looking out of the window, waiting for the train ride to be over so he could finally be alone. At least the boy wasn't a talker, so it could've been worse.

Then—a loud thud in the corridor. Next, the compartment door slid open and Potter stood in the doorway.

"Can I—oh, it's you."

Regulus rolled his eyes at him. "Can't you run off with my brother? He's bound to be somewhere."

"Not until after I've dealt with that boy," Potter said, staring at the pale boy sitting opposite him in disgust.

The already pale boy went even paler as he huddled in the corner.

Potter stepped into the compartment, fumbling in his robes for his wand. "The little git-"

"This is my compartment, Potter," Regulus said all of a sudden, almost on instinct—if he didn't know any better, he'd say he felt protective of the boy, but maybe that's what being a Second Year was all about. "I'd leave if I were you, or I'll send you straight to the Hospital Wing."

He tried his best to look menacingly at him, and hoped Potter wouldn't let it get so far—he had no real duelling experience, after all, not counting the little incident at the wedding.

But for some reason, somehow, it worked; Potter put his wand back in his pocket and left. He actually left.

"Thank you," the boy murmured as Regulus slid the door closed.

"That's James Potter," he found himself saying, "best friends with my brother. You better stay away from them."

"I will," the boy replied, "I don't think I like him very much. He's rude and loud and... and..."

"Yeah, he is. They all are, Potter and his little gang. Gryffindors."

The boy stuck out his hand. "Barty. Barty Crouch."

Crouch... where had he heard that name before? Oh, it was such a familiar name, but the significance of it was just out of reach. He just couldn't remember.

Nevertheless, he shook his hand. "Regulus Black."

Barty smirked triumphantly. "It's so good to meet you, Regulus Black."

"Likewise," he said, sitting back down. "Say, Barty, I haven't seen you around here before, have I?"

He shook his head. "This is my first year... what about you?"

"I'm a Second Year," he said proudly, "Slytherin, of course."

Barty shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"What? You don't like Slytherin?"

"My father's a Slytherin."

His heart skipped a beat. "What about your mother?"

"Ravenclaw."

Thank God, at least both parents were magical. How was he supposed to ask such questions without scaring off any potential friends? But then again, if Barty Crouch didn't understand the need for such question, then he wasn't friend material... still, the name Crouch was so familiar to him that he could probably – hopefully – deal with finding out the details later.

"Is it... painful?" asked Barty.

"What?"

"The way you're Sorted... my father says we'll have to wrestle a dragon, but then my mother says it's a long exam..."

Regulus chuckled. "No, no, none of that. You just put on this grim old hat and it tells you where to go."

"...that's all?"

He nodded.

Barty let out a relieved sigh. "I can do that, then."

There was a knock on the door and it slide open, but this time it wasn't an annoying Gryffindor, just the trolley lady asking if they wanted anything. They bought some chocolate frogs and spent the next half hour going through the cards, since Barty was an avid collector. Regulus didn't care much for them – although he did enjoy reading the little facts – so in an act of friendship he gave Barty all his cards as well.

"I don't think I'm a Slytherin," Barty said after he put his cards into a neat pile on the seat next to him, steering the conversation back to Hogwarts.

He had to be really be worked up about that... had he been the same way, last year? No, he had known very well whee he'd end up, hadn't he? There really hadn't been any other option. "Why not?" he asked, "it's the best house."

"That's what my father says, too," he mumbled.

"He's right. You should be in Slytherin... oh come on, it'll be fun!"

"But I don't think I can be a Slytherin! I'm not very clever, or ambitious, or cunning, or any of those things."

"Where do you think you'll go, then?"

"I really don't know..."

"I guess we'll find out."