The room of requirement was in shambles.
Bloodied ruins and broken glasses littered the ground, with an equally disastrous looking girl in the center of it. Chest panting, cheeks flushed red, eyebrows furrowed in pain. Scratches marred fair skin, still wet and crimson.
The pain was preferable, she thought. Her jagged breath was preferable. Anything was preferable than this awful feeling that was constricting her chest, poisoning her mind. She would have cried but she couldn't. She would have screamed, but again, she couldn't. Her tears had dried, her throat had burned. They were exhausted.
She was bloody tired.
Closing her eyes, she basked in all the sensation.
Upon introspection, it seemed like physical exhaustion had nothing to do with her tiredness. She was tired of being blindsided, tired of this war.
Tired of caring for someone yet still not managing to do this miniscule thing called keeping them alive.
How many times had her mind tried to rationalize her gut feeling? Too many fucking times. With every suspicion that arose, her mind had been quick on ignoring it, and had kept on feeding her false hope, dismissing every warning. Nothing serious, her mind had said. She was just trying to reconnect with her son, her mind had said. There was no grave matter, it had. fucking. said.
Too bad. Just - just too bad.
Madeline crumpled into a fetal position, suddenly feeling like she was under attack.
(Perhaps she was under an attack. It was her mind against herself, her monsters running faster than her brain could process it.)
Charis and Caspar Crouch were found dead in their house. The house elves had given witness that their master and mistress fell ill suddenly, and then never to wake up again.
Their story was plausible. It could be the truth, her mind enticed her just as she first read the news. Even when the clue was smacking her across the face, her mind kept on betraying her by telling pretty lies in the form of naive reassurance.
If only Charis Black didn't hastily change her will even before her supposed reported illness, threatening a Gringott official to legalize it in hurry.
If only the said Gringott official didn't fucking tell her about it, implying an illicit machination in her grandparent's death.
If only Grandmother didn't leave her a letter, saying things like - like how happy she had been for knowing her, telling her to be safe, to not be tempted by shallow offering of power -
Her face scrunched at the pain the memory brought. How? How could she be so foolish?
Did she not learn anything from being sent to the fucking past? What good did it do to prepare herself for the future when she did not want to face the problem that was crippling her present? Now people had died, and she didn't do a single thing - Charis Black had explicitly expressed the gravity of her situation, and what did Madeline do?
She wrote some letters. She wrote some fucking letters, to someone who wouldn't even listen!
Madeline was not unaware of her grandparents' politics. She knew that they stayed at the lighter side of grey. No matter how many times grandmother had tried to talk her into dark magic, she knew that they believed in the balance between dark and light. She also knew, from Charis Crouch's opinion on her Hufflepuff friends, that she did not mind the existence of muggleborns in their society. The lady even had some twisted way of supporting them, saying who else would be the clerk of dirty pubs and shops if there weren't any lower birth wizards and witches to fill the position? They did not exactly champion the light causes, but they did not align themselves with the dark either.
And Voldemort was a giant tantrum-throwing toddler who only believed in absolute; either they were with him, or they were against him.
The late Lord and Lady Crouch still instated their son, Bartemius Crouch, as their heir. Her grandparents still somehow cared for their useless son. However, Lady Crouch had left all her academic possessions to a Miss Madeline Crouch. She had left Madeline Crouch with all her books, researches, and journals, and had only granted Madeline Crouch the permit to enter her private study at her residence, Number 21 Blakeville Street. Grandmother expected her to do something with it. Something meaningful, using the clever brain the lady had praised so much (it hurts. It hurts) - while Lord Crouch had specifically left the Wizengamot seat to the apparent heir, Bartemius Crouch Junior, and had forbid anyone to instate a proxy before the apparent heir reached majority age. Implying that these times were not safe, for anyone who held the seat.
She was. Fucking. Stupid.
Now that everything had crashed and burned, now that it was too late to do anything, Madeline could finally really think about what had happened.
Being a grey family with a good standing, Voldemort must have tried to coax them into joining him civilly first, enabling Grandmother to try to reach her son for help for months. But of course Voldemort's patience was running out, and luckily - unluckily for her grandparent's lives - Grandmother had made her last stand, protecting her son from the potential of being exhorted or threatened for their political power, like she and her husband probably had been for months.
The crouch seat would remain empty for years to come, until Barty reached majority age, as they probably expected that Voldemort would have been dealt with by then.
It was too much. Everything was too much.
Her nails dripped red, scratching the wounds that ripped her skin wide open. They itched. They itched. They itched. The stinging pain was more bearable than the itch.
Her Grandmother had been so brave. She had faced on Voldemort and stood her ground, while Madeline was hiding -
Facing Voldemort was her job. Her fucking mission.
(Didn't you say you don't want to interfere with the current war? Your mission is the horcruxes, you said so yourself. Why are you saying it differently now?
What is it that you want?)
Her cheeks were wet, yet again. She supposed she got some tears left to cry. Salt meeting iron, she could feel its sting. What was the point of occlumency if it all blew up and resulted in this mess? After all this time, her emotions were still hard to control. She missed Barty. She missed Barty and the lightness he brought to her chest. She missed Mother and her comforting warmth.
Madeline wanted to go home.
.
There were only so many constraints that Regulus had in the face of anger. Tonight, that already little constraint was draining rapidly.
"Speak."
In front of him, Snape scowled, outraged by the demand. Regulus supposed a demand that came from a boy younger than him would feel a little insulting. Unfortunately for Snape, Regulus had every power to corner him like this, in addition to Narcissa and Malfoy's backing, who were both lurking behind Regulus in support.
"Speak of what?" Snape asked through gritted teeth. Regulus sneered at his piteous display of pride.
"If it hasn't been clear enough for you, then you're really dumber than you look."
Snape returned his sneer, sharp tongue ready for a retort - but a glance at someone behind Regulus's back made his jaw click shut.
Instead, he said stiffly, "I do not understand."
Regulus narrowed his eyes.
"Madeline Crouch."
"What of her?"
"Don't play dumb," Regulus snarled, having enough of his ignorant act. "What did you do to her?"
Snape's eyes widened in its size.
"Wha- I haven't done anything!"
"Yeah, right."
"I'm telling the truth!" He said, voice almost shouting. "I didn't do anything to her!"
Severus truly did not know anything. He and Crouch did not get along, but they had been ignoring each other in these past weeks for Lily's sake. Yes, he did sneer at her attempt at generosity last Friday - The arrogant girl thought that she could buy him with a new robe after his was destroyed beyond repair due to those gryffindor scumbags' assault - But Crouch was not so fragile that she felt hurt by his sharp reply.
He glared at Black, trying to figure out the reason the boy was dragging him to an abandoned classroom (using a favor from the Headboy, no less) and asking him pointless questions.
Severus recalled that the boy was there when Crouch disparaged him a couple of weeks ago. Perhaps something happened to Crouch and Black thought that Severus did it to retaliate for that time?
At the opposite of his glare, Regulus was also observing the older boy through his own glare. Snape's outrage was genuine, and so was his confusion. Even right now, the older boy looked like he was trying to get a read on Regulus rather than trying to come up with a lie. Corridor attack and nasty curses were Snape's forte against Regulus's troublesome brother, but maybe Snape hadn't used them against Crouch?
"He's not lying," He heard Rabastan flatly stated from the side, confirming Regulus's own thoughts.
Regulus looked away, not acknowledging his wrongly placed accusation on the older boy. Snape scowled.
"Am I free to go, now?"
Regulus honestly couldn't care less about him now that Snape was out of his list of suspects. He ignored Snape's scathing look at him before the boy vanished from their sight. His mind had already moved on.
If it wasn't Snape, then who?
Crouch didn't have any enemies besides Snape and Parkinson. He doubted that Parkinson could inflict those wounds on Crouch, so the only suspect left was Snape. But it wasn't him. Could it be other houses' upper years?
"Regulus?"
He pulled himself out of his thoughts, meeting Narcissa's concerned face.
"What happened?" His cousin patiently asked.
Regulus had dragged her without explaining anything, asking a favor to use her fiance to make Snape meet them in discretion. Regulus might not like Malfoy, but his cousin' fiance was still highly respected in Slytherin so he was left with no option. And now Regulus had to explain his reasons to his cousin.
He felt his jaw locked, muscles tensing at the memory her question had triggered.
It was supposed to be another typical day. He was doing an errand for Slughorn to deliver a new batch of potions for the infirmary when he saw Crouch walking out of the hospital wing.
She looked fine. Perfect, like always.
No smile, though. She hadn't smiled for two whole days, not since she received a letter that he recognized came from Gringott, based on the metallic smell of the parchment that Gringott often used.
He knew of course that she received a mourning notice just two days before that. But besides looking unfocused and gazing off during the lesson, Crouch didn't change all that much. She still smiled, even if it felt more forced than her usual smile. Then that letter from Gringott came, and all her demeanor changed.
Still, Regulus didn't pry.
That morning outside the hospital wing, he was prepared to be ignored. He valued her privacy, you see, so he would have let her ignored him - if she hadn't been walking towards the stairs with her eyes fogged, mind wandering to Salazar knows where.
He had wanted to offer to escort her, just to ensure that she would safely arrive at the dungeon. Crouch didn't hear him calling her, so he caught her upper arm.
In hindsight, he probably shouldn't startle her like that.
Him breaking her simultaneously dazed yet focused state resulted in her accidently dropping a glamour charm - and then Regulus saw blood. Everywhere.
On her cheeks, her jaw, her forehead.
Her hands. Her white collar. Her ripped clothes.
"Regulus?"
He closed his eyes.
Deep breath. In and out.
He put his focus back on Narcissa, "I saw her this morning. She was covered in blood."
"Was it her blood?" Malfoy's annoying voice quipped in, and Regulus turned his head, very slowly, to the source of that stupid question.
"No," he sneered at Malfoy, "she often bathes herself with the blood of innocents for her sacrificial magic practice."
The blond's eyebrows shot up, his mouth pulled in a manner that told Regulus that he was actually considering Regulus's attempt at sarcasm as plausible. Unbelievable.
"Of course it's her blood!" He turned his scowl to Narcissa. "Your fiance is sick."
His cousin glared at the now amused Malfoy, before looking back at him, her hands reaching his shoulder.
"Regulus. Calm yourself."
Regulus huffed, throwing his eyes away to the side.
Stupid Malfoy.
Crouch was just as shocked as him when their eyes met, though her shock was probably out of her surprise for suddenly having someone standing so close to her. He hazily recalled that Crouch murmured his name questioningly, but Regulus had shouted for Madam Pomfrey by then.
Madam Pomfrey's horrification had micicked his own when the lady saw Crouch's state.
It turned out that Crouch had just asked for some antiseptic from the hospital wing. Crouch had walked into the lady's hospital wing, with grievous wounds hidden under a glamour, asking for some antiseptic and failed to ask for assistance to heal her wounds. To say that Madam Pomfrey was furious was an understatement.
It was probably her furious state that made her forget about his presence, and Regulus caught sight of Crouch's arms after the lady discarded Crouch's ruined robe, just before the drape was closed.
Crouch... Crouch wasn't supposed to look like that, he thought.
Mangled. Broken.
Bloody.
He didn't know what happened, but looking at her condition was enough to trigger his ire.
(And the blood. Salazar, the blood - )
"Have you asked her about what happened?" Narcissa asked calmly, her tone neutral. Somehow, it still irritated Regulus. He scowled some more.
"Of course I had. She didn't want to talk about it."
Crouch, frustratingly, had been tight lipped about the perpetrator of her attack. Not even Madam Pomfrey was able to make her talk. In fact, Crouch even flipped the table and went her way to silence Madam Pomfrey. She said that if news got out that she had been attacked then she would be caught in a rumor. She didn't want to deal with the gossiping busybodies of Hogwarts on top of dealing with her wounds. To quote the irritating witch verbatim, it would be hazardous for her health, which goes against what Madam Pomfrey was supposed to do.
He swore, if Madam Pomfrey wasn't a healer, she would have squeezed Crouch's mouth shut to stop her from talking. That was what Regulus was tempted to do, after all.
And now Crouch was going about her day, while Regulus was left with his sanity eroding by seconds, his mind couldn't stop thinking about her blood and those who were responsible for it.
"Can we do anything?" He heard Rabastan say, to which his cousin let out a long sigh.
"I'm afraid not. Unless Crouch is willing to share with you about what happened, there is nothing you can do except for investigating it yourself."
And they already tried to investigate it by themselves, Regulus scowled. Look at where it got them. Now Regulus owed Malfoy a favor, and Snape got a reading on him and probably figured out that something bad had happened to Crouch.
.
The end of year exam arrived just in time to distract him from going crazy, and Regulus focused on his study. Both he and Crouch avoided each other's eyes. He didn't know what her reason was, but for Regulus, he couldn't stop thinking of the color of red on white, couldn't stop the burning rage that started at the thought of her attack perpetrator, that was probably walking around, at that moment, without facing any consequences -
Crouch wasn't his friend. She wasn't even a valued ally of his house. They were friendly acquaintances at best, two potion study partners that met two times a week. Fellow students who exchanged reading lists.
Why he felt this intense for Crouch was a mystery, but Regulus really shouldn't poke around Crouch's matters if she didn't want him to. They were Slytherins, and Slytherins had rules and boundaries. It didn't matter that both Crouch and Regulus had broken it once ( Crouch, when she dragged him to talk to Sirius, and him when he spied on her for a month.) Slytherins did not urge other slytherin to bare their throat, to bare their weaknesses.
He tried to move on.
When the exam week was over, Regulus was left with too much free time to his liking. He occupied himself with his readings.
"Come on, Black," came Pyrites' whining when he saw him sitting quietly with his book again, for the millions of times that week. "Exams are over. Aren't you itching to hit the broom again?"
Regulus had it in his intention to scowl at Pyrites for ruining his internal solitude.
Unfortunately, there was a grain of truth in his words, and Regulus could feel Rabastan waiting for him to reply to the question correctly. The normal Regulus would never turn down an offer to fly. If he declined Pyrites' offer, Rabastan would have known that something was still bothering him and the boy would try to get a read on him. Regulus would very much like to keep his inner conflict to himself, thank you very much.
So he replied with a grunted "I suppose," and off they went to the quidditch pitch.
Flying, as usual, did not disappoint. Regulus finally felt weightless, his mind stopped burdening him with pointless worries that tried to haunt him again right after the exams were over. He spent the last week of Hogwarts blissfuly in the air, enjoying the early days of summer to the fullest.
Platform nine and three quarters was the wake up call of reality for him, as he realised that his days to fly freely were over. His parents would not allow him to fly above a muggle street.
"Regulus," Mother greeted him, to whom Regulus nodded respectfully.
"Mother. Father."
Father returned his nod, acknowledging him. "Regulus."
A hoot ensued, and Father nodded at his feathery companion. "Nyx."
Regulus pushed down the urge to grin. He saw Mother rolled her eyes at Father's antics at the corner of his eyes.
"Where is your brother?" Mother asked, her impatience evident. Stoically, he explained his predicament.
"I do not associate myself with his friends, Mother."
The 'Sirius was currently with his Gryffindor friends, whom Regulus avoided, therefore Regulus couldn't fetch Sirius to make sure he was not dawdling' was implied.
"Good," Mother said, accepting his implied explanation bursquely.
They waited for approximately six minutes before Sirius graced them with his presence, complete with his robe in disorder and his long hair tousled.
"Father. Mother," he tonelessly greeted them.
Mother only scoffed in disdain at Sirius's greeting, not having the patience to deal with his impudence.
"Come, Regulus."
A glance was exchanged between Sirius and him, and that was it. Regulus quietly followed Mother to the apparation area.
.
His summer, compared to the chaotic earlier years due to the amount of troubles Sirius got, was uneventful. Regulus spent most of the time reading and playing with his snitch. Father quietly worked in his study, while Mother attended some luncheon and occasionally redecorated a part of the house when she felt like it. And Sirius… well, he was being Sirius. He didn't cause as much as trouble like he did back when they were little, but the little troubles he still caused, he did it with much bigger, far more grievous consequences.
"You can borrow Nyx if you like," Regulus said offhandedly just as the sneaking form of Sirius passed by his room.
His brother froze in his motion. He turned to look at Regulus who still had his eyes on the paper in his hands, appearing to read a random Prophet edition from the year.
Eyes narrowed, Sirius was left wondering how in Merlin's pants his little brother caught him sneaking around when he was clearly focused on his reading.
In Regulus's opinion though, there was nothing sneaky in Sirius's effort to send letters to his friends. Or maybe Regulus was just too good in sneaking around that he saw Sirius's effort as pitiful? He had, after all, spied on Crouch, who had a great situational awareness, for a month and got away with it.
(The fact that Madeline knew all along about his spying went unnoticed by the boy, but let the boy have his ego boasted, yes?)
Regulus tutted at his brother's silence. His reluctance at accepting his offer was stupid, and was probably based on his pride. So obviously, Regulus tempted him some more.
"You won't have to sneak around like a thief if you do," He started, "and Mother, with her habit of snatching away your friends' letters before you read them, won't be your concern anymore."
Sirius's jaw clenched visibly. Regulus had always sided with Mother, so the offer came out suspicious. He did neither comfirm nor deny as he changed the subject.
"You're reading the Prophet, now? What, are you old?"
Regulus tilted his head at his brother, before graciously letting the subject drop.
"Older than you mentally? Perhaps."
Sirius snorted.
"Hah. Dream on, kid." He eyed his baby brother from head to toe, and came out with the stupidest insult. "Noodle arms."
Regulus's eyes hardened.
Sirius's expression was kept flat. Baby brother was clearly annoyed at his challenging tone he used, so Sirius only had to wait. It didn't take long for Regulus to goad him back.
"Dog breath."
He smirked. "Droll face."
"Troll brain."
"Boogie licker."
Regulus's eyes dangerously narrowed. "We agreed to never talk about that incident."
Sirius snorted, a smirk bloomed at his face. "Who's childish now, huh?"
"Still you."
Sirius chuckled at his brother's vexed state. He was too easy to goad.
Awkward silence then fell upon them for some time.
Internally, Regulus moaned over the fact that he had just stooped to Sirius's level. Dog breath? Troll brain? It was like he had reverted into five years of age. Was Sirius's idiocy contagious? Was he contaminated?
Contrasting to Regulus however, the banter lifted Sirius's mood.
"Look," Sirius said, approaching his brother. That had been the longest time Regulus had spoken to him, and the lightness of their banter reminded him of everything that was going on between them. He caught his brother's eyes, trying to take advantage of the good atmosphere to fix what had broken between them.
A dramatic pause occured.
"I'm sorry," he then said, sincerely.
Unfortunately for him though, Regulus was still miffed.
"For what?" He asked, feigning disinterest as his eyes went back to his Prophet. "For ignoring me for a year?"
Sirius frowned, taking offense. "Hey, you ignored me too."
"That's because you ignored me first."
"No, you ignored me first," he stressed, eyebrow arching. Sirius crossed his arms, daring his brother to contradict him. "Remember?"
Regulus lift his eyes from the Prophet, meeting Sirius's own.
The siblings held a stare off.
It didn't take long for Regulus to look away, grumbling under his breath.
"I said i was sorry."
"And now I'm saying sorry," Sirius replied within a beat. "We're kind of even now, yeah?"
Regulus muttered a quiet "I suppose,"
Like a flood gate was opened, Sirius came into his room, leaning over his desk as he started to ask his opinion on Hogwarts. He asked how Regulus' days went, and the fun he got into.
At first, Regulus divulged only little. Then Sirius started to regaled him with his fun stories, and Regulus did not want to lose. So he shared some of his as well, most of them was just about Rabastan and him trolling their other classmate (and ocassionally some of the professors) without them getting a hint of being trolled. Regulus wisely did not mention many things about Crouch, as he was worried that Sirius might start to pay attention to the girl. If Regulus, who was blessed with tact, went out of his way to spy on Crouch because of her enigmatic allure, then he could only imagine what length Sirius would have gone to crack her mystery. So he focused his stories on Rabastan, occasionally badmouthing Narcissa's fiance here and there.
Apparently, that was a wrong move as well.
Don't be mistaken, Sirius wholeheartedly agreed with his sentiment on Malfoy. His sentiment on Rabastan, on the other hand…
"You're still going around with Lestrange, huh?" Sirius pondered out loud after listening to him.
Regulus' jaw clicked shut, muscle tensing. He knew where this was going and Regulus refused to entertain Sirius's righteous nagging.
Unfortunately, Sirius was too thick to catch this sign as he barge on.
"You should really be careful with who you're hanging out with. They are bad crowds, i tell you."
"My friends are none of your business," Regulus replied, appearing unconcerned. He kept his eyes on the newspaper as he reminded his brother with a cutting tone, "I stopped commenting on your choice of friends, didn't i?"
Sirius shook his head exasperatedly. "That's different. My friends are a good bunch."
Regulus scoffed. "Remind me how many detention you and your good bunch had in just the last term?"
"At least detention will be the worst place we would be sent to," Sirius retorted, annoyance simmered in his eyes at Regulus's continuous dismissal of his concern. "Your friends, however, will probably be sent to Azkaban in the next decade."
At this, Regulus put down his copy of the Prophet, his expression was of guarded temper.
"I do not take this kind of slander lightly."
Sirius snorted. "Stop it with the posh talk, Reggie."
"No," he sneered, "you stop with your undignified tongue."
As soon as those words left Regulus's mouth, both brothers had stiffened.
To tell you the significance of Regulus's action, Regulus had unconsciously copied their Mother's words. What more was that his demeanor and tone was the exact replica of their Mother's when she said it. Sirius's eyes had widened, before narrowing in contempt. The older brother threw away his face as he started to stand straight and walk away from the conversation.
Regulus watched his brother did all that, his eyes conflicted. He wanted to stop him, but what more could he say? After all, Regulus was one hundred percent in their Mother's side on this matter. He had truly grown to detest Sirius's manner. They were the Blacks. They had things to uphold, obligations to fulfill. Sirius's poor manner reflected badly on their name. Regulus also did not want to go back to their previous subject, where Sirius critiqued Regulus's choice of friends. He liked hanging out with Rabastan. Rabastan could be as quiet as him and he did not demand anything from Regulus.
The longing for his brother in his chest did not dissipate with his effort to rationalize his decision to let Sirius go, though.
In the end, right before Sirius was gone from his sight, Regulus murmured his last thought quietly.
"We can never go back to how we used to be, can we?"
Regulus did not expect Sirius to hear him, nor did he expect Sirius to answer him. But he did receive a cutting reply, one that he had to accept with an aching heart.
"We can't."
.
"We are going to visit the Lestranges," Mother announced, one perfectly serene morning.
One previously serene morning, Regulus corrected mournfully, as he kept his eyes on his meal. Father seemed to share his thought, if that heavy sigh indicated anything.
His brother eyed Mother, his eyebrows furrowed. "Which Lestranges are we going to visit?"
"Your cousin and her husband."
Sirius blinked, processing Mother's words. After some moments, disbelief crossed his face, as if asking him to visit Cousin Bella was a ridiculous idea - Regulus must admit, it was indeed a ridiculous idea. To say Sirius and Bella simply did not get along would be insulting their resentment for each other astronomically.
- Then Sirius scoffed. Audibly. In Mother's presence.
"Yeah, no."
Farewell, quiet morning.
"No?" Mother repeated, steel eyes daring Sirius to reply in the same manner.
Regulus inaudibly sighed. Daring Sirius to do anything was the quickest way for him to do anything.
His stupid older brother resumed his meal, letting the tension rise by the second as he chewed his meal slowly. Then, he said, plain and clearly, "Nope."
Regulus put his fork on the table, glaring at his brother who was sitting across him. Sirius had popped the word at the end of it.
Things were inevitably going down.
"You are still going, whether you like it or not," Mother snarled, and clearly, if Sirius had any sanity, he would know that exact moment was when he should stop. Regulus tried to kick Sirius's legs under the table, just so that Sirius get a hint that he should stop right there. Unfortunately, their dinner table was too big and Regulus's legs were not that long yet.
It was too much to expect sanity from Sirius in the face of their mother. Regulus could only wait as Sirius opened his mouth again.
"I'd rather go to Cousin Andromeda."
"DO NOT!" - Regulus jumped at the volume, eyes still locked on his meal even if he had lost his appetite. " - mention that name in this house, ever again!"
There was a chilling pause.
Regulus prayed that Sirius would back down. Mentioning Andromeda was the gravest mistake that Sirius could have made. Mother despised Cousin Meda. She was a bloodtraitor, the lowest scum, the dirt polluting their family's name. The pause was getting suffocating by the seconds.
And then,
"Meda," Sirius retorted, eyes challenging Mother's.
The contempt Mother had in her eyes only encouraged him. Regulus closed his eyes as he heard Father left the table.
"Meda," came Sirius's following taunt. "Meda. Andromeda. Meda. Meda. Meda. COUSIN MEDA!"
.
"You asked for it."
Regulus's tone was of reproachment, eyes covertly keeping themselves away from the sight of Sirius's bleeding legs, as he crossed his arm at the front of his chest.
The blood was still flowing.
Mother never let anyone heal her punishment for hours. To let the lesson sink in, she had said. Regulus felt like he might sink in the sight of blood.
Still, he had to watch over Sirius. In case he was missing too much blood.
(It was as much as a lesson for Regulus as it was for Sirius. It was a warning, a promise. If Regulus ever crosses the line… )
"I did?" He heard Sirius slurred. Perhaps it was the loss of blood that made him slur his words. Or maybe it was due to his cheeks meeting the hard floor, as Sirius was laying on his stomach with his head to the side.
"Woah. Did I really ask our dear mother to rip my calves into two?"
"You asked for it," Regulus repeated, staying true to his thoughts, not looking anywhere near Sirius's calves.
Sirius laughed, and Regulus thought that maybe he was out of it. He clearly had lost enough blood for lightheadedness to occur. Enough blood for it to pool on the floor. Enough blood to turn the black tiles into crimson.
(Breathe.)
Regulus closed his eyes. His tongue was itching to call Kreacher, to finally have him heal Sirius. Kreacher never obeyed him over Mother's orders, but maybe if Regulus asked him kindly enough…
"At least now we won't have to meet our crazy cousin."
Regulus snapped his head to Sirius, face contorted at the dragged words.
Everything finally clicked. Sirius knew that he wasn't supposed to mention Andromeda in their mother's presence. He knew it very well, and the only reason for him to do it was…
Anger rose at the pit of his stomach.
"That's your angle, Sirius?" He sneered. "Your idiocy is beyond me."
His words met silence.
Regulus shook his head, still with a sneer. "You are lucky, Sirius. Next time, pick another way to avoid your obligation."
"Lucky," Sirius echoed, his tone dull.
Regulus took a peek on his brother, carefuly avoiding the sight of red everywhere to get a read. Sirius's eyes was as dull as his tone, mind far away. He got a feeling that Sirius was finally exhausted mentally, and Regulus wisely didn't engage him in another talk. Maybe if Sirius fainted, Regulus would be allowed to order Kreacher to heal him.
For two hours, Regulus sat quietly beside his bleeding brother on the floor.
.
Grandparents' house was so unlike what she expected it to be.
For one, unlike the Manor that she lived in, Grandparents' had lived in a townhouse amongst the muggles, similar to what she recalled of Grimmauld place. She knew of course that old pureblood families usually had two or more ancestral houses, one where the elder of the family stayed in, and one in which the younger generation was brought up. But many left the grander house to the elders and let the heir resided in the smaller one. Apparently, the contrary applied in the Crouch family, as Father lived in a big country manor while Grandparent lived in a townhouse.
She wondered why that was.
"Mad?" She heard Barty calling for her, still coming from the library but sounded so far away. Then again, the library was huge.
"I'm here," she shouted, exposing her position. If Barty wanted to talk to her then he would have to come to her. Madeline had no intention to remove her eyes from the fascinating books in this section of the library. It was a section of curses and cursebreaking, something that would be extremely useful in the future. She was astounded to recognize some of the books from Grimmauld's library, and to find others which she definitely hadn't seen anywhere.
"Her collection is pretty awesome," Barty said, announcing his presence. His giddyness was transparent, and expected, in the face of mounting knowledge that awaited them. The unrestrained grin was contagious. "I think I saw some ritual magic books from the 15th century there."
Madeline hummed, letting out a sad smile. "She was academically inclined."
Sensing his sister's forlorn mood despite her attempt to smile, Barty eyed his sister in pity. Madeline had just started to exchange letters with their grandmother some months ago, but it seemed like they had grown close. The news of their grandparents' death meant nothing for Barty, except for the fact that he now had access to more books. For Madeline, however…
"I will need to rearrange everything," Madeline declared in a blatantly made up cheerful tone. "Disorder and I will never get along."
Except for sorting the books to different sections based on their subject, Grandmother did little to nothing to organize the books. Books from the same author were scattered, tittles that had no correlation were grouped together. It was apalling to see, and Madeline was certain that she would have an argument on it with Grandmother if the lady was still there with them.
Barty raised an eyebrow at her words, not even trying to mask his surprise. "So you're staying here?"
"For a week, at the least."
She could hear his thoughts running.
After occluding for the rest of her stay in Hogwarts, her emotional state was in total disorder. Grandmother's death had affected her greatly, partly because her immense guilt regarding it. She had broken down in front of Barty, climbing to his bed every night for these past weeks.
His doubts and concerns were not unfounded, so Madeline tried her best to reassure him.
"Also," she added with a kind smile, "someone needs to take care of Elsie and Messie."
At this, Barty returned her smile. If there was something that would cheer up Madeline, it would be fussing over other's wellbeing. She took care of other's happiness as if it was a therapy for her own. Still, it failed to completely erase the worry Barty held for her. "Perhaps I'll stay here too?"
Madeline shook her head. "We shouldn't leave Mother alone."
There was a reason why they were alone today in their late Grandparents' residence. Father showed no sign of intention to take care of his parents' belonging, nor did he seemed to care for the house elves his parents had left behind. The only thing he mentioned was for Madeline to not bother with the books Grandmother had left her with, to which of course Madeline had promptly ignored. It's not like Barty Sr. would realize that Madeline was staying at his late parents' house. Lately, he stayed at his work and did not come home at all.
Meanwhile, Mother had every intention to accompany them to take care of their Grandparents' belonging, only to find that she very much couldn't. The old townhouse was imbued with a strong multi-layered barrier ward. One of the layer contained a nasty blood ward that would drain the blood of those who attempted to enter without direct blood relation to the Crouch's main family member. It was not impossible to get rid of that particluar ward from the inside, but Madeline had strongly suggested that it was better to have more protection for the house.
So Madeline and Barty were the only ones left who was able, and willing, to enter the property.
It was clear that Barty was reluctant to leave his sister alone at the old townhouse. He knew that Madeline was right, they shouldn't leave mother alone as they would leave her for months after Hogwarts year started again. But still…
He opened his mouth to argue, but Madeline sent him one of her determined look. It always made him relented.
In the end, he only expressed his worry defeatedly.
"Are you sure?"
Madeline let out a soft smile, her gratitude shone through her eyes. Then she lift her chin, back straightened and shoulder pulled back. "I have to get back up again," she stated, this time in a genuince confidence that Barty had always admired from his sister. "What's a better way than facing my problems head on?"
Barty smirked. "Alright. I'll take your word for it."
Madeline smirked back at her brother. She knew she had successfully convinced him. Unknown to him however, her words meant much more than facing her grieve.
It was time to get serious.