CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: BARTY

Regulus left with reluctance, leaving Flora alone and simmering with indignation. She hated the way Sirius had almost laughed when she asked to come too. If he hadn't done that, perhaps she'd have minded less, but she caught his meaning precisely.

Regulus would have rather stayed with Flora, but refusing to go with Sirius would only be delaying the inevitable. They left with some vague assurance of returning by dinner time, which was met with an icy response from Flora—that is to say, no response at all. She resumed her baking wordlessly, and turned the radio up louder. Sirius, when they reached the end of the garden, grumbled something about Flora being just like Remus when she was in a mood.

"She has a right to be involved," Regulus said. "It's her problem too, this war."

"Flora doesn't need to be anymore involved than she already is," Sirius answered curtly. He approached the portkey he'd left at the gate—an old copper kettle—and looked at Regulus. "Ready? I didn't give this one a time preset because I wasn't sure how long it would take to convince you to come."

"Did you tell him I'm coming?"

"No," he shrugged. "Moody might've briefed him while I've been gone though. But, Reg," he paused a moment as he considered his next words. "You ought to know before you go that there was a confrontation between the Order and… that lot. It's the reason he was captured in the first place. But there were others. Other people I think you knew."

Regulus frowned. "Well, how many did you capture?"

Sirius shook his head. "Just him. I meant, and I'm not entirely sure who, but there were a few deaths."

Regulus stiffened. The first person who rushed to his mind was Evan, but he couldn't bring himself to ask. He merely nodded, avoiding his brother's eye.

"Let's just go and get it over with," Regulus mumbled.

The portkey took them to the latest headquarters somewhere in the Scottish Highlands. Meetings were constantly moving around the country. Last time Regulus came along, the Order had met in Chester in a small terraced house at some unspecified member's home. Now he stood before a huge grey manor house surrounded by green and brown marshland; the force of the wind nearly barrelled him over, as he hadn't expected it when he landed on his feet beside Sirius.

Beyond Sirius, the first person he saw was Clementine standing outside; she was leaning against a wall facing away from the wind, smoking a cigarette, and simply raised an eyebrow at Regulus by way of greeting. Her thick red hair looked more unkempt thanks to the Highland winds. As Sirius and Regulus walked up to the house, she pushed herself off the wall, stubbed out her cigarette and met them at the doorway.

"Whose house is this?" Regulus asked with a confused frown.

"Elphias Doge," Sirius answered. "An old man. He's agreed to keep your mate here for the time being."

"And from what I've overheard," Clementine put in blandly, "He's gone on hunger strike and thrown endless abuse at the house elf."

It took some effort to close the door once they were inside, fighting against the wind. It looked as though a storm was coming; the landscape had darkened drastically in a very short moment. Inside the house was not much lighter or warmer. In the entrance hall, a small fire was burning in the grate, and beside it was Pod sweeping up ashes.

Regulus stared a moment, surprised. He'd never thought to ask who lent Pod. He didn't have time to dwell on this though, as he was next met with Alastor Moody lumbering into the room. Moody was an imposing, vaguely terrifying man; at the beginning of the year he'd lost one of his eyes, which had since been replaced with an artificial glass one and earned him the nickname Mad Eye on account of the way it spun around crazily. The last time Regulus had seen him, just barely a week ago, Moody had had all his nose, but now a chunk of it was missing.

"Black," he said gruffly. Regulus wasn't sure whether he was addressing him or Sirius. He looked stressed, tired. Everybody in the Order always seemed to look very much the same, like they were constantly close to giving up.

Sirius glanced at Regulus beside him, then back at Moody. "Shall we just take him straight up?"

Moody nodded once. "Take him up."

Sirius proceeded to lead Regulus up a great oak staircase, followed slowly by Moody. Clementine walked up ahead of them in a rush, muttering a quick 'excuse me,' as she pushed past Regulus and disappeared up on the landing.

Regulus paused on the stairs and looked back at Moody. "He's not likely to talk if you're both in the room with me."

"We won't be in the room," Moody replied abruptly, sharply. "We'll be waiting outside the room. Precaution. May as well take your wand from you now, too."

"What?" Regulus frowned.

Moody had by now reached Regulus and held his marred, rough hand out expectantly. "Wand. Now. You'll get it back afterwards."

"Why?" Regulus demanded, incredulous.

"Reg, just do as he says," Sirius grumbled, sighing.

"Why do I need to give you my wand?"

"Another precaution," Moody replied grimly. "I'm letting two death eaters meet in a room and—"

"Ex-death eater," Regulus snapped, his irritation rising and willingness to help quickly dissolving.

Moody fixed his good eye on Regulus darkly, but stiffly corrected himself. "Ex-death eater. I just don't want him getting hold of your wand."

Regulus scoffed, but he petulantly pulled his wand out and held it out for Moody to take. "I can protect my wand just fine."

"I'm more concerned with coercion than you being physically overpowered," he muttered back, snatching Regulus' wand from his hand and stuffing it into his worn-out leather coat. It made Regulus, with his delicate sensibilities about cleanliness and nice, tidy clothes, inwardly cringe. They continued up the stairs until they reached a long landing.

He suddenly felt nervous, unsure of what he would be confronted with when he walked into that room. He didn't regret what he had done, but he had regretted leaving his friends behind. Especially poor Barty. He still remembered the devastation in Barty's eyes when Regulus showed him he'd taken the Dark Mark. And yet still Barty followed him, never wanting to be left behind, so desperately afraid of being irrelevant, and took the mark himself shortly thereafter.

"We'll be waiting out here," Moody said when they reached a door at the end of the hallway. Regulus had barely noticed they'd stopped.

"Listening in?" He glared.

"Just waiting."

He turned the doorknob and threw the door open for Regulus to step in. There were no formalities, no preparatory reintroductions: he was simply allowed to stride in.

Regulus hesitated for a second. The room was small and in partial darkness; the rain that had been threatening to pour was now battering the single window, and one of the curtains looked to have been torn down. There was a great, old oak bed against the far wall; all the bedding and pillows had been thrown off it and were discarded around the room. An empty fireplace was situated in the centre, and a desk and an overturned chair stood in front of the window. At first glance, the room appeared empty. But then in the corner of his eye, somewhere by the bed, he saw movement. The door shut behind him and Regulus swallowed, stepping in further.

"Barty?"

Regulus noticed that the curtains around the bed had also been torn down. Barty, it appeared, had been under them, crouched down in the corner. He stood up shakily, emerging quite slowly, like an apparition materialising until it became solid. His hair was unkempt and his clothes rumpled. The inner corners of his eyes were red, and underneath they were a deep purple, indicating how little he'd slept as of late. This was not entirely unusual; his eyes usually were heavy from lack of sleep, fixed always on his books, his notes, his homework. Regulus had hardly ever known Barty to sleep.

His eyes looked different though now. They were wide and frightened, and it appeared as though he'd been crying a short while ago. The shock on his thin, pale face was at once all too evident.

"Regulus?" He said, his voice hoarse. "Is it really you?"

He stumbled towards Regulus, nearly tripping over the curtain pooled around his ankles. Regulus nearly recoiled, frightened suddenly by his own shame.

"I thought you were dead," Barty went on, his voice cracking slightly. "I'm not seeing things, am I? Say something so I know you're real."

"I'm real," Regulus said, his voice calm and steady. "I'm alive and I'm here."

Barty let out a weak, strangled laugh. He came closer and reached out to grab the sleeves of Regulus' coat, to grip his arms, to dig his fingers into him as if he were desperately trying to convince himself it wasn't a hallucination. Regulus held him by the forearms.

"Blimey, I can't believe it's really you," Barty said, a cracked smile stretching across his face. "I thought you were gone. I thought I'd never see you again. Are those gits keeping you here too?"

His eyes briefly flickered up and down Regulus, at once noticing that he was clearly in better shape than himself. His fine clothes, and the way he was well-groomed and fed were the primary giveaways. His smile slipped into a frown and he took a step back, releasing his hold on Regulus.

"No," Regulus said, glancing aside, downward. "No, I'm here because they asked me to come speak to you."

"They did?" His brow furrowed. Before Regulus could elaborate, he jumped to his next line of questioning. "Where have you been? What happened to you?"

"I—I left," he replied, feeling less sure of how to respond. "I discovered something."

"Well, what?" He demanded.

He shook his head, speaking evasively. "Something important. I had to leave."

Barty's frown only deepened with this answer. "What do you mean you had to leave?Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't," Regulus replied hesitantly. "I couldn't risk anyone knowing. You might've tried to stop me."

"Did you leave, or did you run away?"

The look which darkened Barty's face told Regulus he was venturing into the very conversation he'd feared.

"I left," he said firmly, fixing his gaze on Barty and never letting it drop.

"Why?" Barty demanded. His replies were always quick as a blade, barely letting Regulus finish his sentence.

"I had doubts," Regulus replied, just as fast this time. "You know I always did."

Barty sneered, his lip curling. "You seemed pretty eager to take the Dark Mark, as I recall."

"I was stupid. I didn't understand."

"Oh, is that your excuse?" Barty snapped back, his voice rising. "You don't just get to hand your notice in to the Dark Lord because you misunderstood the job role, Regulus."

"That's why I couldn't tell you I was leaving. I didn't even tell Evan."

Barty was silent for a moment. His arms were folded across his chest and he looked away, his jaw clenched. Then, more quietly, he replied, "We would've helped you. Whatever it was."

"That would mean defecting from the Dark Lord. That's what I did. I defected and betrayed him."

"And so now you've changed loyalties?" He asked cuttingly.

"I'm simply cooperating, and I'd advise you to do the same."

"Oh, fuck off. Fuck you."

"Barty, listen to me."

"No!" He suddenly came closer. "I followed you! My only two friends—you and—and Evan. Fuck," he trailed off, his voice breaking a little. "Evan."

"Where is—"

"He's dead," he practically hurled the words at Regulus, as if he were throwing their friend's body at his feet. "Evan's dead."

Regulus stood still, his face a mask of composure. He remembered suddenly the feeling of falling backwards into a well, when Bellatrix had pushed him over as a child. He'd fallen fast and heavily, hitting the bottom with a force that winded and dazed him. He felt like that again right now and took in a steady breath before he spoke again—

"I didn't ask you to follow me," Regulus said quietly. "Nor did I ask Evan. You both joined of your own accord."

"Evan, maybe," Barty glared, "But my family had no involvement in any of it. I wouldn't have…not if you hadn't."

Regulus turned his gaze on him angrily. "Bullshit. You believed it all, you lapped it up."

"Of course I did," Barty laughed bitterly. "When I saw how you were treated, of course I wanted in. It was everything I ever wanted. Power, respect, influence. You wanted it too, so don't fucking lie. You obviously just weren't willing to do what it took to get it."

"I saw the Dark Lord for what he really was," Regulus snarled back. "I saw him torture and kill innocent people."

"So did I—"

"He hurt Kreacher."

Barty again laughed. "Your house elf? Was that your last straw? You left because he hurt your precious little elf?"

"Kreacher was loyal. He was my family, and I'll not let people hurt my family."

"And what about me?" he exclaimed, turning his hands to himself and pointing at his chest imploringly. "What about Evan? You left us behind like we meant nothing."

"You made your choices," Regulus said, his tone level. "Just as I did. I never asked you to follow me."

"No, but we did. I did. And now I'm locked up here while you, apparently, get to prance around scot-free. How'd you manage that, hm? Did your soft-headed brother talk them out of sending you to the Aurors?"

"I'm not free," Regulus snapped back. "Not really. I'm living in a safe house and I'm not allowed to leave it unless escorted."

"Safe house," he snorted. "Must be nice."

"You're in a safe house yourself, you idiot! They could've handed you over to the Aurors, but instead they've kept you here," he motioned widely across the room with his arm. "With three full meals and a bed."

"Why?" He demanded.

"Probably the same reason they kept me. For information."

"Did you give them information?"

"Yes, and it'd be in your interest to do the same."

"I'm not telling them shit," he sneered.

"It's a simple choice, Barty," Regulus narrowed his eyes. "You provide them with information and they will give you protection in return."

"They killed Evan. I have nothing to say to them. You're a coward."

Regulus paused at this. He had naively assumed Evan was killed in some sort of cross-fire, an accident. He had not until now considered Evan may have been deliberately killed by someone in the Order.

"Who?" Regulus asked in a low voice. "Who killed him?"

Barty moved away from Regulus and sat down on the floor in front of the fireplace, pulling his long thin legs up to his chest and shivering. "The one with the eye."

Regulus slowly moved towards him and sat down also. Regulus didn't speak, so Barty went on, "We were pursued by Aurors while flying over Coventry. Evan got blasted, knocked off his broom and—" he trailed off, taking in a breath. His knee shook, and Regulus saw that his eyes were filling with tears that didn't fall.

"He could've survived," Regulus began hopefully. "Evan's fallen off his broom hundreds of times."

Barty shot him a scathing look through his tears. "I flew down after him. I saw his body. Then I was captured. I would've kept fighting if I hadn't been so—so—I was weak. They took advantaged and captured me and brought me here. And now you walk in," he glared. "Looking well and healthy, like nothing has ever bothered you. But I suppose you've always been like that, haven't you, Reg? Nothing ever bothers you."

"Plenty bothers me."

"Where are they keeping you anyway?" He asked. His voice was still slightly shaky and he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Somewhere nice, I hope? Spain? Croatia?"

His tone was bitter, sarcastic. Regulus frowned and looked away, fixing his eyes on the cold ash in the fireplace.

"Wales."

"Pity for you."

"Lupin has a sister," Regulus went on, ignoring him, "About the same age as us. I'm staying in her house."

Barty frowned. "A sister? Who? I never saw her at school."

"She's a muggle."

Barty's expression changed upon hearing this, breaking into a cold, sinister smile. "A muggle?"

Regulus wished he hadn't said anything now, or had at least not given him the full details. Barty had never had any particular animosity towards muggles, not like he or Evan had had, but like most wizards and witches in his social circle, a heightened sense of superiority was a given. Muggles were always a joke.

"Yes," Regulus replied with no further explanation. Barty, however, was the unceasing master of questions. He always asked questions. Even at school, he tired their teachers out with incessant questions, and now he was about to tire Regulus for information he was not forthcoming with.

"How does he have a sister who's a muggle?" He asked first. "Do you mean she's a squib?"

"No," Regulus muttered. "They have different fathers. Both dead. She's a muggle and she's in hiding too because of Greyback and his pack. They've been heard around the area."

"What does Greyback want with a muggle?"

Regulus shrugged. "It's not so much about her specifically. It's about the leverage he can gain over Lupin if he kidnaps her."

"And Lupin trusts you to live alongside his muggle sister?" Barty replied, incredulous. "He may as well have handed her over to Greyback."

Regulus frowned, lifting his eyes to meet Barty's. "Is that the kind of person you think I am? I told you why I left the Dark Lord. Maybe I don't like muggles, but I don't want to kill them."

"What's her name?"

"Flora."

"Flora," he repeated. He said it slowly, enunciating the consonants. "Is she pretty?"

Regulus' gaze wavered, falling briefly to the ground. "She's not bad."

Barty's cruel smirk only widened. "Are you fucking her?"

Regulus' eyes snapped back up to his face. "No!"

"I'm not going to judge what you do with your spare time, Regulus," Barty scoffed. "I'll happily change places with you though if you don't want a pretty muggle girl. Can't be bad."

Regulus' expression darkened, but it couldn't hide the fact his cheeks had gone slightly pink. "Clearly you've been cooped up too long and it's affecting your manners," he said snidely.

Barty snorted humourlessly. "Manners are the least of my worries right now, Regulus."

The door opened at that moment and Clementine poked her head in. "How's the reunion, lads?" She asked lightly.

"Fuck off," Barty replied sharply.

Clementine only nodded, as though used to such an unwelcome reception. Regulus stood up and dusted himself off. "I should go."

Barty at once lunged forward and grabbed Regulus' arm. "No, don't go. Please don't go yet."

"I'll come back tomorrow if I can," he said noncommittally.

He scrambled to his feet and grasped Regulus by his shoulders instead. "Ask them if I can stay with you," he said wildly. "Reg, please!"

"That's definitely not happening," Clementine put in.

Behind her, Moody shoved his way in and said grimly, "You're staying put until we can find somewhere else to take you. Black," he abruptly addressed Regulus, "Out. Sirius will take you home."

Regulus shared one last look at Barty's despairing face before he pulled himself away and strode out of the room. He pushed by Moody with anger, snatching his wand from his hand as he held it out for him to take, and rejoined his brother out in the hallway.

"Are you alright, Reg?" Sirius asked quietly.

Regulus didn't look at him. He didn't know who to be angry with. He hated them all.

Flora was just beginning to prepare dinner when Regulus returned with Sirius. It was dark by now and the moon, almost full, was making its slow rise across the sky. Regulus saw Flora through the kitchen window before she noticed them, peeling potatoes with a faraway look on her face. She only looked up when they unlatched the gate.

She didn't come to meet them at the door, silently continuing her work as they came in, and only looking over her shoulder by way of acknowledgement.

"What're you making?" Sirius asked.

"Shepherds pie," she shrugged, but then caught herself and looked at Regulus. "No, wait—cottage pie."

Regulus smiled at her softly and Flora smiled back, her iciness melting just as his anger melted under her gentle gaze. Sirius didn't notice the quiet exchange as he was busy helping himself to the biscuit tin.

"You can stay if you want to," Flora said to Sirius after a moment. She was now chopping the potatoes up into chunks and depositing them into a large pan of water.

"I think I'd best get back to Moony," he replied. "See how he is. Thank you though."

"Will you take me back to see Barty tomorrow?" Regulus asked quickly.

"I don't know, Reg. After the full moon would be better."

Regulus didn't have the willpower to argue. His nerves already felt wrought and weak. Sirius didn't linger long, anxious to return to Remus, and they were soon left alone again. Regulus remained standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, his eyes cast downwards.

"How was it?" Flora asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Fine."

She glanced at him. "Just fine?"

Regulus let out a heavy breath through his nose and straightened up, looking at her. "Do you mind if I go lie down while you prepare dinner?"

"Oh," she faltered slightly, "Yeah, fine."

Regulus came close and encircled by the waist with one hand, planting a kiss to her temple. She relaxed.

"Just shout me and I'll come down," he kissed her again in quick succession, her forehead, her nose, and then her lips. He quirked a small smile and she returned it gently, nodding.

He felt that he was going to break down and cry in the middle of the kitchen. Flora turned back to her cooking as he disappeared upstairs to his bedroom, where he shut himself in and lay down on his bed. He desperately felt like crying, but the tears he'd been trying to hide a moment ago seemed to have dried up. He found that all he could feel was a hollow pain in his chest, and that sickening falling feeling, like he'd felt the moment before he landed with a thud at the bottom of the well, except now the falling was endless. He slept, and while he slept he saw Evan—pale, lifeless Evan.

Flora came to him around an hour later, tapping lightly on his door. "Regulus?" She called. When he didn't answer, she pushed the door open slightly and said his name again.

He woke, lifting his face to the sliver of light pouring in from the landing. It caught the glassiness of his eyes. Flora stepped in, her expression fixed with concern.

"Are you alright?" She asked softly, kneeling on the bed beside him. "Dinner's ready."

Regulus sat up, looking into her questioning eyes as she touched his hair and pushed it back gently. It fell back into his eyes.

"Your cheeks are all wet," she murmured.

"Are they?" Regulus touched his face, realising she was correct. He must've been crying in his sleep.

"What's happened?" She asked softly.

He took her hand and moved it away from his face. "Nothing."

"Regulus?"

He got out of bed and pulled Flora up with him. "Dinner's ready?" He asked.

She nodded, still looking at him curiously, and hummed a small yes. Something about the way she looked in that moment pulled at Regulus' heart—her confusion, the mild hurt behind her eyes as she no doubt wondered if it was her who had done something—and he was suddenly overcome with that unnerving feeling he'd felt when they'd laid together in her bed. He embraced her closely and kissed the top of her head.

At dinner, he was mostly silent. He was hungry, but he ate little. All he could think about was Evan. Barty had been his closest friend, but Evan was his oldest; they'd played together as children and stuck together through school. They'd stuck till the end, but that end had been when Regulus left.

He helped Flora clear away the dinner plates, and Flora wordlessly disposed of what he hadn't eaten. He wanted to go back up to his room, but he could see the anxiety in Flora's face and so he sat with her in the living room. With a cup of tea each, Flora put her records on and curled up next to him.

"What's the matter, Regulus?" She asked again softly after they had sat in silence for another three minutes.

Regulus looked down at his tea, circling his finger along the lip edge of the cup. He then suddenly leaned forward and put his tea down on the coffee table, turning to Flora and wrapping his arms around her middle with his face buried against the crook of her neck; Flora, though slightly taken aback, put her cup aside and instinctively embraced him.

"Regulus?" She whispered. She felt his body shudder, his hands gripping her tighter. Her hand flew to his hair to run her fingers through it soothingly as she realised he was crying. She waited while his warm tears dampened her dress.

Regulus swallowed his grief like bile. For a long while, he couldn't speak; he couldn't say the words which came to his mind for the heaviness in his chest and throat blocking them. Flora didn't press him further. She continued to wait.

"I had a dream about my friend," he said finally. His voice was quiet, strained. It didn't feel like his own. "He was dead. Scattered in pieces on the ground."

Flora held him closer. "The friend you went to see today?"

"No," Regulus shook his head. "No, my other friend."

"Dreams aren't real, Regulus," she replied gently.

"He's really dead. Barty told me."

Her hand stilled for a moment, locked against the back of his head. "Oh…" she breathed out.

"It's my fault," he said.

"No," Flora said firmly. "No, Regulus, don't say that. It's not your fault."

Regulus lifted his head to look at her. His face was wet. "It is my fault. I should never have left… or I should've—I should've told them."

"What could you have told them? You'd all be dead if you had."

Regulus didn't answer for a moment. It seemed at first that he wouldn't answer at all; his eyes, which were focused on the corner of Flora's lips, were faraway in some silent inner reflection. And then, more unexpectedly than when he'd embraced her by the middle, he lay down and put his head in her lap.

"Please," he said quietly. "Please just stay with me."

Flora's hand moved back to continue stroking his hair. "I'm here," she murmured, watching his eyes flutter closed as he relaxed under her touch.

"Don't leave the house," he said.

"I won't leave the house."

He fell silent. The warmth of her body and the soothing sensation of her hand in his hair slowly eased the heaviness in his chest. He remained still, and Flora kept running her hands through his hair until everything felt okay again.