Granger Yet
Killed It

"I killed him. I bloody killed him."

There was a part of Regulus that hadn't thought he could fall apart any more than it already had, but then-

Looking at the tapestry, it was super obvious Orion Arcturus Black hadn't keeled over dead because his youngest son decided to up and married some Muggle girl one day. Instead, Orion keeled over from waking up one morning and seeing on the tapestry that his youngest had died.

And Regulus had died.

His new maman and his new papa told him that they were lucky that he survived at all and became a part of the Granger family, that he had actually died as they worked their Muggle magic to put his broken body back together the best they could. He'd definitely died that day and thus killed Orion Arcturus Black in the process.

At the moment of realization, Regulus felt his legs give out from under him, the pain in his head getting the better of him. And then he felt the sensation of Apparating, albeit he wasn't the one to do so. Whoever did the Apparating flung him against the bed. Regulus lifted both hands to catch himself, or he'd thought he raised both hands as the left didn't move as he wanted and was of no help.

"I bloody killed him. I killed our father."

"He bloody deserved it, and he's not my father," said a familiar voice from nearby.

Regulus trembled, his knees wobbling as his mind attempted to process what just happened, let alone the words that came out of Sirius' mouth.

"He didn't."

And then-

Regulus wasn't sure what happened, at least not right away. His mind registered Sirius touching him again, and he didn't want to be connected at that moment, particularly after hearing his older brother say something cruel about Orion dying. And then his head hurt even more than before, and he felt himself flung ceremoniously onto the bed he'd been pushed into before.

He looked up at Sirius, who now had a bloody nose, with Sirius' wand to his throat as Sirius gripped the front of his shirt. "You little piece of shit."

Regulus felt his entire body tremble, his head turning to gauge where Sirius had brought them. And he saw green—horrid green. "My old room. He brought me here."

"You monster."

The words hurt, yet this wasn't the first time Sirius had said such a thing to him. Regulus didn't move or make eye contact, instead focusing on what his Granger parents drummed into his head all those years with them, or they at least tried to, as they had with so many things.

"You bloody don't care what you've done, do you? You bloody monster."

Regulus took a deep breath and turned his head to finally look Sirius in the eye despite how it made him feel. "I am not a monster."

"Yes, Regulus, you are."

And there he was, trembling, unable to argue with Sirius anymore than he'd been able to argue with Walburga, in that sometimes one couldn't change their minds, and something told him Sirius would always think of him as a monster.

"You're to stay away from that girl and her mother," Sirius snapped.

"What," Regulus started, only-

"Don't what me! You and I both know you put them both under some kind of spell to convince them that you're in a relationship with her mother!"

"Not true," Regulus stammered out.

"Give me one reason I should believe you?"

"Amortentia," Regulus blurted out, remembering how Olivia smelled like Amortentia—or perhaps it was the other way around.

"You sick little fuck!" Sirius said, pulling away, making Regulus realize his mistake.

"Hold on a second!"

"I want absolutely nothing to do with you, you freak!" Sirius snapped. "And don't bloody come out of this room! There isn't anybody who'll want to see you, a bloody Death Eater!"

And with that, Sirius was gone, and Regulus was stuck there in the room, his head pounding. Teeth gritted, he found himself wishing Sirius hadn't Apparated them into the room, although he wasn't sure dragging him up the flight of stairs would have been a much better option; his head would still ache, and Sirius would have done this in front of Hermione, who Regulus hadn't expected to be there at Grimmauld place.

To which—

"Why is she even here?" Regulus asked to nobody in particular, his mind attempting to put things together only to get stuck on the throbbing pain from having hit his head on the ground floor when he'd tried Apparating himself around. Sitting up, he sighed, closing his eyes to bite back the wave of nausea. "Well, at least that's possible—not that it really helps me in the long run unless I can Apparate around the place myself."

He stood up, unsteady on his feet, and walked over to the desk he used when he was home on the holidays, sitting down in the desk chair before looking around the place at all the green he'd practically vomited onto the walls of his room as a teenager, all for the sake of house spirit and a stark contrast—purposefully so at the time—to Sirius' room across the way.

And then he saw it.

It was a harsh reminder of the past, reminding him of things.

Regulus reached for an item on his desk and flung the thing at the monstrosity, hoping to mar said monstrosity.

The item he'd flung was the jar of ink from which he used to fill the inkwell sitting on the desk, which shattered upon making contact with the wall. And yet, it didn't mar the atrocity as he wanted, the ink mainly having dried up in the years since he'd last been in the room. He breathed deep as his head throbbed, his ears burning as he looked at the folly of his youth before heading over, one hand reaching down for one of the glass shards from the jar, wanting to mar that monstrosity.

And without hesitation, Regulus took the shard across the newspaper clippings, the way the yellowed paper curled in on itself as he took the shard across, making him feel slightly better about—well, that.

"Dad, what are you doing?"

Regulus froze, gripping the shard tighter, finding himself confused, remembering full well the words he'd written over his door, not that they ever kept Sirius or his mother out of his room as he wished growing up. She, though, was his daughter, and there was the question of how she'd found him, let alone got away from Sirius, who'd certainly been in quite the tizzy over—well, everything it seemed.

He turned, unsure how to react further, when he felt her grab onto his right hand, prying his fingers away from the shard. "You're hurting yourself!"

The shard dropped from his hand, and Regulus turned to see that it had cut into the palm of his hand. He sat down on the bed as Hermione continued holding onto his hand, not feeling up to looking her in the eye—being more of a disappointment. He swallowed. "Why are you in here?" he muttered. "The sign over the door…."

"I saw," Hermione said. "And I came looking for you because I was worried, and from the looks of things," she sighed, still holding his hand. "Rightly so. What were you."

And then came the pause, which made him glance up to see what made her stop and see that she was looking at the collage. Regulus looked away. "Didn't want you to see that."

There came more silence as she finally let go of his hand to move closer and get a better look. She spoke the obvious. "Those are articles about Voldemort."

"Don't remind me," he said. He flinched, turning his head slightly, swallowing as he did so. "I owe you an apology."

"For?" Hermione asked, which was one of the questions she asked whenever she sought clarification from him on what he said.

"For being a lousy parent," Regulus said. "I'm sure I'm the last person you'd want as a parent right now."

"Because you're a former Death Eater?" Hermione asked.

"Yes."

"Well, at least you're honest about that," she said. Then more silence before she asked, "Are there handkerchiefs in those dresser drawers?"

"Yes," he said, turning his head as his eyes widened, confused about why she wanted to know that. "Why do you ask?"

"Because my father decided to be an idiot and take a shard of glass to the walls of his childhood bedroom," Hermione said, heading straight for the dresser drawers, not hesitating in opening them. "Although growing up, I always thought the room in the attic back home was your childhood room. This is a bit strange, given that I've always known mom's the one who's related to grandma and granddad, but I guess I'd simply always thought they'd become your foster parents at some point, and that's how you met mom."

Regulus looked down at his hand, wiggling his fingers as he looked where he'd cut himself. He opened his mouth, thinking he'd say he met her mother first, only—

"Don't do that."

"Do what?" He asked, feeling rather foolish for saying what he just did.

"Wiggle your fingers like that," Hermione said, hurrying over and pulling out her wand while holding a handkerchief in her other hand.

Regulus flinched upon seeing her wand, remembering how Sirius took his. "Don't do that."

"What?" Hermione asked, frowning. "Are you parroting words back at me?"

"Pull out your wand," Regulus said, tilting his head as he tried focusing on his hand.

"And why shouldn't I?" she said; with that sound, Regulus came to know meant she'd found him exasperating. She reached out, grabbing his hand.

"Sirius will be mad," Regulus said as she muttered the spell to wrap the handkerchief. His eyes opened and closed, remembering his head hurt.

"You and Sirius don't get along, do you?" Hermione said

Regulus frowned, feeling confused at her rudeness. "Uncle Sirius."

"He's not earned it," she snapped, making him flinch as his eyes opened and closed. He felt her hand tighten on his hand that she'd just bandaged before saying, "Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Do you have a migraine?"

"A migraine?" Regulus closed his eyes, wishing his head didn't hurt.

"Are you sure?" Hermione said. "Because you keep opening and closing your eyes as if you're unable to focus on anything, just like you do when you get one of your migraines. I could…"

"No," Regulus said. "Not a migraine."

"Are you sure? I'm sure mom would have packed your medicine."

"Not a migraine," Regulus said. "Don't try Apparating out."

"What?" She looked at him as if he'd grown another head. "I'm not old enough to Apparate legally yet."