Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Regulus Arcturus Black hated the smell of blood.

It was so sharp smelling, hurt his brain honestly, and when it rubbed against his skin, agh it made him want to vomit. It was entirely irrational, everyone had been telling him that his entire life, “Regulus Black”, the one who faints at the sight of blood, how bloody ironic.”

As a child it hadn’t bothered him nearly as much, nothing more than nausea that circulated in his stomach over scraped hands and bloody noses. He’d simply look away, shut his eyes so tightly that purple spots appeared, and wait for it to be gone.

It had been effective enough, especially when the blood wasn’t coming from himself, and looking away solved the problem entirely.

But as he’d grown older, it had only worsened. Nausea turned into dizziness that turned into being out cold on the concrete, anxiety turned into quickened breaths and hands clenched in dark curly hair.

On the rare occasions he’d shared this with people they had simply laughed at him, his parents almost worse. The one time he’d discussed it with Walburga and Orion Black they had looked at him with disappointment in their eyes, second in strength only to one other instance.

That instance Regulus had been too young to actually recall it, but he’d been feeling the after effects of it since he was nine months old.

He felt it now as the nurse capped off the IV, tapping his arm to signal that he was done. Regulus opened one eye to ensure that there was no drippage, there often was dark red stains left on his collarbones or cheeks, but today they were blessedly clean.

The nurse (she’d introduced herself as Nurse Margo) gave him a polite smile as she organized her materials and placed them into a large bag labeled “bio materials and hazards.”

“How’re you feeling now love?” Her voice was soft and low, instantly comforting in a way that Regulus desperately needed right now.

He raised one shaky hand in a so-so gesture.

“Alright I guess, no worse than usual.”

She laughed quietly.

“Well that’s always good to hear, will we be seeing you again on Thursday then?”

Regulus nodded, “Saturday as well.”

“Excellent, well then as long as you aren’t experiencing any kind of adverse reaction within the next five minutes we can get you out of here and back to whatever else you young men are getting up to these days.” she said with a wink.

Regulus decided he liked Nurse Margo. He was incredibly aware of the routine by now, so he waited his five minutes quietly, scrolling through instagram stories of his brother, laughing and arms thrown around a shorter boy with brown hair who looked notably alarmed to be hugged, another of the same boy laying upside down on a bed making some stupid face that rubbed Regulus the wrong way for reasons he couldn’t quite decipher.

He got up and out of the chair when the timer went off, rising slowly to account for the usual little bit of dizziness from the new blood, and once he’d clocked that he was in fact fine, he made his way down the linoleum lined hallway. They’d redone the walls recently, there’d been some minor protests in some city about the use of religious imagery when it came to their kind so now the walls were white with children's drawings pinned to them haphazardly. In theory it was quite cute, but the colors were a lot.

The automatic doors swung open at the push of the button, and Regulus instinctively pulled his hood up to cover his face, the only bit of skin not actively covered in at least one layer of fabric.

He’d experienced the burning of the sun only once in his life, and it wasn’t an experience that he longed to repeat any time soon.

He readjusted it a few times as he walked towards the black honda civic that waited in the pull through area.

He opened the backseat and slid in, giving no acknowledgement to the driver other than a brief moment of eye contact through the rearview mirror. He knew where they were going anyways, there wasn’t anything for him to say, especially to someone who worked for his parents.

The windows were tinted enough that Regulus was safe to pull his hood down, but the brush of soft fabric against his ears kept him from doing so.

Twenty minutes later they pulled into the driveway of a two story dark brick house surrounded by nothing but gloomy dark woods and rivers. Home sweet home.

When Regulus opened the door nobody was there to meet him, and from the shoes placed neatly in the cupboard, it looked like he was the only one home.

That was to be expected if he was being entirely honest, his mother was likely busy with some high society meeting, and his father often worked late enough that the other members of the house were all in bed.

Regulus couldn’t help but feel a small pang of disappointment at Sirius’s absence but his brother was only ever home when he needed to be, whether it be to grab to eat or sleep, or make comments that left angry parents alone with Regulus at their mercy.

After placing his shoes in his designated slot, Regulus went upstairs to his blissfully dark and quiet room, finally taking the hood off of his head and taking off his gloves and hoodie. His skin was looking rosier than usual, like it always did directly after transfusion, and he prodded at it for a moment, watching as the thumbprint slowly faded away.

Regulus’s room was the only one in the house where he was entirely safe, the curtains permanently drawn, sewn together years ago with small unpracticed hands and later larger unpracticed ones. His door didn’t lock, never had, but it was the barrier between his den of protection and the rest of the world that got bigger and more dangerous by the day.

Walking into the small adjoined bathroom, Regulus splashed cool water over his face, running his tongue over sharp canines. His parents had tried to have them filed down when he was younger, but they had barely been touched by the file before the metal bent out of shape entirely. Oh well.

His phone pinged with a new message, Barty.

Barty: How’re you feeling today? Up for some ice cream and literature?

Regulus grimaced. On one hand he was exceptionally good at literature, and ice cream was the actual nectar of the gods, and on the other all he wanted to do was crawl into his massive pile of blankets and sleep, and it was still a few hours before the sun went down.

Regulus: Admittedly not great, ice cream and lit later tonight? The sun is a lot right now.

The phone lit up almost immediately with a response:

Barty: Sounds good, 9:30

Regulus liked the message before dropping the phone onto his bedside table and throwing a blanket over his entire body.

It enveloped him in the scent of laundry detergent and warmth that consumed him. Very quickly his eyelids began to droop, and for once he didn’t fight it.

He was very rudely awakened by the sounds of slamming doors downstairs and the angry voices of his brother and mother. He tried to ignore it, shoving his head back under the blankets and pulling his phone with him.

The time read 7:45, the little sun under it partially shaded over. Definitely too early to leave, but not enough time to take another multi-hour nap.

He biologically functioned better at night, something about a skewed circadian rhythm, but being forced to be functional on a standard human schedule had been somewhat effective. No sense in trashing that now.

The voices were still going full force, now punctuated with loud bangs that Regulus didn’t care to think about as he pulled his hoodie back on. Technically he didn’t need to eat, but he did still need to drink, and his throat was scratchy enough that he couldn’t ignore it.

He descended the stairs silently, careful to skip the steps that creaked, and ignoring Sirius as he stomped up past him. The gesture was returned.

His parents insisted on natural light in every room except for Regulus’s, so it was almost second nature by now to throw on some kind of hood before he ventured out.

His mother was standing in the front hallway, mouth stiffly downturned and breathing heavily.

“Regulus, dear, dinner will be ready in an hour, make sure you’re downstairs.”

So much for sneaking past. He put on his best ‘good son’ air before responding with a quiet “yes mother” that received no acknowledgement.

He couldn’t wait to be out of this house. If even so he could keep the curtains closed.

By the time dinner was ready, Regulus was already regretting agreeing to go out with Barty. The food was good, even if he didn’t need to eat it, (he always did anyways), but being alone in a room with Walburga Black for long periods of time was never an exceedingly pleasant experience. It was always filled with long silences and awkward conversations that left Regulus wanting to claw his skin off.

Thankfully tonight there were more long silences than anything, so Regulus was able to escape largely unscathed, throwing his things back into his bag and slipping out the door.

The summer night was still warm, but a cool breeze brushed against Regulus’s skin as he walked towards Fortescue’s. Most people stayed inside at night around here, it was deemed “unsafe” by many, so the only people Regulus encountered was the occasional late night jogger or dog walker who were more than happy to cross the street and avoid eye contact.

Fortescue’s ice cream parlor was one of his favorite places in the world. The outside was blaringly garish and colorful with lights, filled on the inside with checkered floors and booths that hadn’t been replaced in forty years. It was perfect.

Barty was already sitting on the curb when Regulus walked up, a smile splitting his face in half. He rose, ruffling Regulus’s hair with enough force that it nearly knocked him over, hissing like a cat.

“Hey!” he protested, “I put work into that!”

Barty merely laughed and slapped him on the back.

“What do you mean the fabulous heir to the Black family doesn’t wake up with perfectly coiffed locks every morning! Someone get the prophet!”

Regulus shoved him off roughly, but he was smiling.

“Asshole.”

Barty grabbed his own backpack and gestured dramatically towards the door.

“After you, milord.” Regulus rolled his eyes but felt no actual annoyance. Their usual booth was open, and Fortescue himself showed up mere seconds after they were seated.

“Ah young Crouch and Black!” he announced, an apron so stained with browns and pinks long since given up on that they had become permanent. “What can I get you boys?”

Regulus started his order but stopped as Fortescue raised a hand.

“Ah! Let me guess.” He twirled his hand sagely as he pretended to contemplate before pointing to Barty.

“For you young Crouch! Single scoop of strawberry with caramel and coconut!”

Barty raised his hands in mock surrender. “You’ve figured me out sir!”

Fortescue spun towards Regulus now.

“And for you Young Black! Vanilla with strawberries!”

Regulus nodded, “Of course.”

Fortescue placed both hands on the table and lingered for but a moment more before disappearing behind the counter once more.

Fortescue himself was the other reason Regulus loved this place. The man had never cared about their family names despite insisting on referring to them as such, and always took the time to check on them, even though he’d memorized their orders years ago.

Soon enough their ice cream arrived and Regulus pulled out his heavily annotated copy of Stoker’s Dracula.

Barty raised one very pointed eyebrow.

“That’s gotta be some kind of microaggression right? They can’t seriously be teaching that bullshit in schools.”

Regulus shrugged. “Something about ‘historical context for modern day issues’, but it’s not entirely unsurprising I suppose.”

Barty took a very intense bite of ice cream before picking up his pen again.
“McGonagall has me doing Wuthering Heights and I’m not convinced a single person in this damn book has done a single act of good in their life.”

Regulus winced. He and Barty both hated when characters had no redeeming qualities, and having read Wuthering Heights before, he knew that Barty’s hatred for Heathcliff and the Earnshaw’s was only going to grow.

Dracula might have been actual hate speech but at least things happened in it. And he did rather like Mina.

“It’s like someone who hated their life and everything in it decided they wanted everyone else to feel the same and wrote a book about it!” Barty continued, “Catherine’s daughter, younger Catherine, actually had a chance to have a happy life with Edgar and her cousin but no! Fuckin Heathcliff! Not to mention their cousins and shit also.”

Regulus gave a furtive hum. He would understand. Most people in his family tree married some kind of cousin.

“It’s just awful and I can’t deal with this much negativity right now!” Barty concluded, dropping his forehead to the table with a loud bang. Regulus furrowed his eyebrows.

“Are you doing okay? That sounded painful.”

Barty groaned, lifting his head back up.

“It fucking was, and no, and I don’t want to talk about it right now, but I will tell you if that changes.”

“Alright then.”

After that they fell into a comfortable silence as they both plowed through literature assignments. Regulus was grateful honestly, on transfusion days he didn’t often have the energy to deal with others, and sometimes that even included his best friend.

Barty did his best to understand Regulus, but they both knew on some intrinsic level that they were different. Barty thrived in the light of other people whereas Regulus preferred to be alone with his thoughts and writing. And they both had learned that Barty could never and would never be able to fully comprehend the consequences of having a little V printed on his ID. Not like Regulus did.

But the ice cream was good, even if the literature wasn’t, so Regulus was hardly complaining at the moment. He rather liked his lit class despite the joke of a teacher, and he had plenty to finish for it.

Thirty minutes and four chapters later, Regulus had reached a point where he felt confident stopping. Across the table Barty was clearly fighting to keep his eyes open, so Regulus reached across the table, marked the page, and shut the others book.

Barty wrinkled his nose, but didn’t complain as the two shoved everything back into slightly too small backpacks and walked back outside.

The stars were fully out and visible now, just the way Regulus liked them. He must have been smiling because Barty smiled back, laughing quietly.

“You and your stars, sometimes I wonder which of us you like more.”

Regulus hummed thoughtfully but didn’t respond.

Barty sighed.

“See you in the morning okay? Get some sleep.”

Regulus glanced over to see that Barty was already walking away.

“Barty!” he called out, the other turning around, “See you in the morning.”

His friend’s face softened as they began to walk in their opposite directions.

Late at night was one of the only times Regulus felt truly and entirely at peace after all. There was no risk of the sun showing up out of nowhere, the people who would hurt him didn’t dare venture out when Regulus was the powerful one, they wouldn’t dare, and millions of stars glittered overhead.

That night as Regulus lay in his mound of blankets, in his too quiet house, he wondered if anyone else felt the same.

Chapter Text

Hogwarts school was one simultaneously one of Regulus’s favorite and least favorite places.

On the con side, it was loud, SO fucking loud, with nearly three thousand students in a building intended for half as many, with the majority of the students insisting on making their presence as prominent as possible. Similarly, most of the teachers loved the sound of their own voices, and cared more about how the quidditch team was doing than about what they were actually supposed to be teaching.

The plus side for Regulus was one person.

Barty Crouch Jr.

The two had met at some rich people function that their parents had both been invited to because they were all donors to some shady institution.

Six year old Regulus had accidentally spilled his water all over the shirt of seven year old Barty, promptly burst into tears, and then been saved when Barty had simply told his parents that he had tripped and spilled the water himself.

As it had turned out they were already attending the same school, albeit Barty being one grade above, and once they realized this it was only a matter of time before they were seeing each other at every turn.

Eye contact had turned into shy waves, which turned into lunch, which ended up being best friendship.

By the time Regulus was nine and Barty was ten they were already riding bikes together to go get Fortescue’s, and covering for one another whenever one’s parents were particularly awful.

Little Regulus had been terrified for Barty to find out about his condition, though that he would find out, maybe call him “bloodsucker” like the rest of the kids at school, and then never speak to him ever again. It would have been absolutely devastating, but Regulus had thick skin, he needed to.

What he hadn’t expected was for Barty to have already known. He’d grinned, that stupid fucking grin of his, like this wasn’t an earthshattering revelation that could make or break the only friendship Regulus had ever had.

Instead he’d smiled and laughed before wrapping his arms around Regulus in a tight embrace.

“Oh I know, at that donor event some stupid kids told me that I should avoid you and I called them enough names that they haven’t spoken to me since. Serves them right.”

Regulus had frozen, because he did remember those kids. Avery and Mulciber had been some of the worst of his childhood bullies, and they had let up a little after Barty had come into the picture. Regulus had never made the connection, but looking back it had certainly been there.

“Plus,” Barty continued, “It was kind of hard to not figure it out with your ‘mysterious appointments’ and clear aversion to sunlight.’”

Regulus’s cheeks flushed bright red, he’d been so careful to have them hangout when it was dark or raining outside, he’d been certain that he was keeping it under wraps.

Barty had pushed him out to arms length then, a smile growing even wider at how stupidly red Regulus’s face was.

“Oh don’t be put out,” he chided, “you kept it hidden so well I promise, I was simply too good!”

Regulus balked as wiggling fingers began to tickle him until he was forced to hunch over simply to avoid the barrage.

“ST- STOP-” he managed between giggles, trying in vain to push Barty off.

“I only get to do this so many times!” Barty declared, “I have to make the most of it now before you become immune!” He DID stop tickling Regulus, but it had taken several more minutes before either of them were able to stop giggling.

Regulus clutched his sore sides as he reveled in his equally sore cheeks, unused to smiling so freely and intensely. He and Barty had at some point ended up on the carpeted floor of Regulus’s bedroom, and Regulus’s curtains had been glowing slightly with the blocked out sunlight of the summer afternoon.

Barty had pulled Regulus on top of him, pulling him flush to his body so that his face was being crushed under Regulus’s chest.

They hadn’t spoken for a few moments, simply breathing each other in and listening to the calls of the birds outside. Barty broke the silence.

“Ya know,” he began, “you can’t get rid of me that easily Regulus Arcturus Black. I’m not leaving any time soon, and neither are you if I have any say in it.”

“I know.”
Six years later, those words were still holding true.

Whenever something happened to either one of them, whether it be the loss of Barty’s grandmother, or the birth of his baby sister Elaine, whether it be Regulus breaking down when he was handed his first DL with the signature red V on the corner, or his newly sewn shut curtains, the other one was always there at a moments notice.

Now that Regulus was beginning his 11th year and Barty his 12th, they were going just as strong as ever. There were the whisperers of course, that muttered how they didn’t understand why Crouch wanted to fuck the vampire, if the bloodsucker got extra thirsty during sex.

Now Regulus was good at ignoring those people, but only after some serious reasuurances from his best friend about how ‘other people didn’t need to understand’ and ‘it’s none of their fucking buisness what we do, not that I DO think we should fuck because I know you don’t want that and I certainly don’t either.’”

Barty had always had a way of making Regulus feel better and he’d never quite figured out how he always knew what to say.

He certainly did today anyways.

“Lockhart's not here today.”

Regulus swung around, nearly clocking Barty in the face, but the boy merely ducked and continued talking like nothing had happened.

“I heard from Andromeda that he got caught engaging in some” he paused for dramatic effect “illicit activities.”

“Mmmmm” Regulus added offhandedly. “How illicit are we talking? Illicit enough to make up for the fact that I didn’t finish reading Dracula?”

Barty nodded sagely. “It appears so, my good lad. McGonagall is subbing.”

Little celebratory fireworks started popping inside Regulus’s brain, the sixth year literature teacher was known largely to be quite prickly, but also was notably fair, something Lockhart certainly was not.

There had been more than one occasion during which Dracula discussions had turned into “ask Regulus Black extremely invasive and personal questions and then laugh it off when he doesn’t want to answer them.” And beyond that, he constantly mentioned how many of “the night children”, a largely agreed to be offensive term, he’d killed back in his youth. Nothing like hearing how much your literature teaching loved killing your people at nine in the goddamn morning.

As it turns out Barty had been correct, confirmed as he walked into second period lit to find Minerva McGonagall turning over one of Lockhart’s many trophy jars he kept on his desk with a face of thinly veiled disgust.

Regulus was the first student to enter and she hastily placed the jar back onto the desk.

“Mr. Black,” she greeted, “Good morning.”

“Good morning professor.”

He took his usual seat as far from the window as he could get, somewhere around the back left of the room, and watched the rest of the class slowly file in. As McGonnagal went over the emergency sub notes she had been left she scowled before tossing them into the recycling bin.

“Good morning class, as you may have noticed your teacher Professor Lockhart is absent and for undisclosed reasons will likely continue to be absent until further notice. As such, I will be your teacher for the time being until they can find another suitable candidate.”

She set them working on their analysis essays about the ending of the novel, and Regulus was perfectly content to put on headphones and spend the class reading the ending of said novel. The sooner he never had to read this book again the better honestly.

A familiar itch crawled over his skin as morning sunlight crept through the windows. The skin on his hands in particular was beginning to peel slightly, the gloves that he typically wore having recently gone missing. Honestly the only thing keeping him from a vicious sunburn was his distance from the window and he’d rather die than actually ask McGonagall if she could please shut the blinds. But strangely, he didn’t have to.

“Professor? Could I please close the blinds? The sun is burning my hands and it’s quite an unpleasant experience.”

Regulus didn’t recognize the voice that had spoken directly behind him but when he turned he saw an almost eerily pale face with a smattering of freckles that even his long dark hair couldn’t cover. A hood that nearly matched Regulus’s was drawn over his head up to his ears but nonetheless there was an easy going smile on his face that made Regulus’s stomach start doing backflips.

McGonagall barely looked up from her reading as she waved a hand in assent. Within seconds the class grew darker and Regulus was able to finally breathe a sigh of relief as the burning abated.
The work grew easier after that, but Regulus had to fight to not just look at the new boy behind him, one he very highly suspected was another vamp. If he was, and all directions were pointing that way, he would be the only other vamp in Regulus’s grade.

Selfishly Regulus thought, maybe that meant that the worse bullies might turn some of their attention off of him but he tried to banish that thought from his head as soon as it entered. He knew how badly it sucked to be a target and he wouldn’t invoke whatever bad karma came along with wishing that onto someone else.

The rest of the class passed uneventfully, and by the time the bell was ringing Regulus was ready for the day to be over. His next class was chemistry and while he was fairly good at it he didn’t particularly like his lab partner, a boy who spent more time meticulously organizing his notes than actually helping.

Regulus began to make his way towards the door but paused and turned as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Ah, windows boy.

Windows boy began to speak, dropping his burned hands to his sides, hiding them in the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Hey I just wanted to check that your hands were doing okay? They were in the sun for longer than mine were and it looked like they were starting to get pretty pink.”

Regulus had to take a moment to compose himself and get over his shock. From the glimpse he’d gotten of the others' hands they were significantly worse than his own, yet he was asking Regulus if he was okay.

“They’ll be fine,” Regulus replied, brows furrowed, “but will yours? Those blisters looked pretty rough.”

The boy pulled his hands from his sleeves only to reveal that they were entirely unmarred again, with no signs of burning or blistering. Both things Regulus had seen minutes before.

He must have noticed Regulus’s confusion because he laughed softly.

“I heal fast, it runs in the family.” he paused for a moment. “Just realized I’ve entirely forgotten to introduce myself, the name is Evan Rosier, just call me Evan.”

“Evan.” Regulus repeated back. “I’m Regulus, Regulus Black.”

Chapter Text

By the time lunch rolled around Regulus was damn ready to go home. Back when they had built the school vampires had still been socially outcasted and mostly unable to get an actual education, and the architecture clearly showed that.

The cafeteria was a massive chamber of stone, arches running overhead fifty feet up. Twenty foot tall windows with iron framing lined beautifully painted walls that depicted ancient battles and myths. Early afternoon sunlight streamed in from all angles, making it nearly impossible to be fully safe from its rays, and while this was warming and often pleasant for the majority of the school’s population, it was an exceptionally dangerous place for people whose skin burned at the mere thought of sunshine.

As such, Regulus made it a point to grab his food as quickly as possible, weaving through the masses of giggling and chattering teenagers, and grabbing whatever food was most easily obtained that day.

On this particular day it was spaghetti and meatballs, an apple, and some kind of beans that weren’t able to be identified by sight alone. Regulus scanned the crowd quickly, trying to clock if Avery and Mulciber were anywhere close to him. Thankfully he didn’t spot their wicked eyes and quirked smiles and he was able to speedily and effectively exit the cafeteria into the safety of a mostly windowless hallway.

Technically Hogwarts students weren’t supposed to take trays or eat outside of the cafeteria but after a Dusting a couple years back the administration had seen sense for once and loosened the grip on that rule for certain students.

Regulus successfully avoided making any kind of awkward eye contact with teachers or students passing by and he counted that as a win for today.

A quick later and he stood outside a room whose label had been missing for years. A glance through the thin door window confirmed that the outside blinds were still shut. They had been for as long as Regulus had been coming here, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

He pushed open the door and some of the tension bled from his shoulders as he took in the familiar scene.

A scattering of people sat around the room, either at the barely held together desks or sitting criss crossed on the floor, some chatting happily with friends, others perfectly content to have their earbuds in and block out the world around them for an hour.

The thing that tied the group together was their attire. The majority of them had as much skin as possible covered up, hoods temporarily dropped from ashy skin in the safety of the dark room. Long sleeves covered up veiny arms, dropping over lightly blistered hands.

This room was quite possibly the only true safe space for the vampires of Hogwarts.
Regulus spotted Barty sitting at their normal table and quickly took his usual seat to his right. Barty was demolishing his own spaghetti and meatballs with a fury rarely sighted outside of the zoo. Questionably red sauce painted the corners of his mouth as noodles fought for dear life to make it into his actual mouth. Regulus scoffed.

“Jesus christ, I’ve seen actual animals eat with more decorum than you.”

Barty glared back and proceeded to consume his spaghetti with even more vigor than before much to Regulus’s chagrin.

Beginning to pick through the chunkier bits of his own spaghetti, Regulus listened in to the conversations around him. It never hurt to be in the know after all.

A little first year girl named Mirabella picked at a sandwich as she whispered into the ears of a boy who looked like his birthday had come early. It seemed that her plot to get them both out of taking an herbology test had worked out in the end. Further away a fourth year boy named Alistair rubbed at red eyes as he tore his way through meatballs. Ah a rough day then. It wasn’t any of Regulus’s business but if he sent Alistair a comforting glance that seemed to melt the boy's sadness just a little bit, nobody would either confirm or deny it.

Regulus didn’t really know these people that well, he knew them in the way you know your family friends that you see on holidays and at functions. They knew each other by name, some basic facts about their life, who was dating who, what teachers they needed to watch out for.

Perhaps it would be best described as a bond forged through a need for a united front. There was a mutual understanding amongst the group that one of them acting out would make life even more hellish for the rest, and very few of them were willing to risk the only fully safe place on campus over the little things.

Regulus and Barty were some of the older people here, the majority of vampires dying of ‘natural causes’ (bullying, suicide baiting, hate crimes, Dusting) before they reached seventeen.

That one was one of the reasons Barty was allowed in here at all, nobody was going to tell Regulus Black, someone who had been here for nearly six years, that his best friend who was known for helping people out wasn’t allowed to eat lunch with them.

Regulus didn’t look up at the tell tale creaking of the door opening, nor at the increasingly close footsteps, but he DID look up when the chair next to him slid out and down sat Evan Rosier, the new kid in literature. He was smiling again, but Regulus sucked a breath in through his teeth as he noticed a vicious new burn curling and branching across the boy's neck. Evan reached up a hand to his hair, shoving the longer parts out of his eyes.

“Yeah yeah I know it looks bad, but it’ll be gone in a few hours.” There was a distinct gravel in his voice that hadn’t been present mere hours before. Regulus narrowed his eyes.
“What did you eat?”

Evan took his jacket off and draped it on the chair behind him, exposing his arms and revealing several other burns in various stages of healing.

“Garlic powder,” he replied. “I suspect someone may have slipped up and added it to my pasta.” His hand moved to his throat, massaging it lightly. “I also suspect that it might grow increasingly unpleasant to speak within the next few moments if I cannot find it within me to shut up.”

He closed his eyes with a grave expression. “It is however a sacrifice I am willing to make.”

“Hey Regulus, mind making some connections here?” Barty cut in, spaghetti now entirely annihilated. “Your friend and I haven’t yet been introduced.”

“This is Evan Rosier, we have literature together. He sits behind me” Regulus replied flatly. Barty on the other hand looked OVERJOYED.

“Well Rosier, welcome to what may possibly be the best table in the entirety of Hogwarts, I’m Barty, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Regulus recognized the twist of Barty’s mouth that typically meant he was plotting something. Oh no.

Evan flashed a thumbs up with one hand, the other still on his throat.

“So,” Barty continued, “what brings you to our corner of the world?” Evan apparently designed this an important enough question to further fuck up his throat.

“Dad got a new job in the ministry, the rest of us came with.” He paused for a moment, glancing about the room. “It’s an added plus that it’s WAY more progressive here than back home.”

His laugh came out strained and painful sounding, and the irony wasn’t lost on Regulus. First day didn't seem so progressive after all.

“I will say,” Evan continued, “the school itself is quite beautiful. Very nice windows.” he gestured to the blacked out windows.

Barty laughed, clapping a hand onto Regulus’s shoulder.

“I like this guy, make sure you don’t scare him off okay?” Regulus sighed deeply, shooting Barty a withering glare that held no real malice.

Evan on the other hand smiled so brightly that Regulus distantly wondered if that smile had ever sunburned anyone. That would be unfortunate.

“Don’t worry.” Evan said. “I don’t get scared easily.”

Chapter Text

Over the next week or so Evan ingratiated himself more and more into the life of Regulus Arcturus Black. He continued to sit with them at lunch, which Barty found far more comical than Regulus. Barty FINALLY had someone who was as either as high energy as he was or willing to put up with it and fake it. Evan had a smile that was so infectious it made even Regulus laugh on occasion.

Even outside of lunch it seemed like Regulus couldn’t go ten minutes without seeing him. They had literature together everyday, Evan had switched to sitting next to Regulus by Wednesday, and soon Regulus found himself almost looking FORWARD to discussing Dracula at inane hours of the morning.

On the subject of literature, Lockhart had not yet been replaced but had also not yet been cleared. Because of this McGonagall had continued to be his long term replacement. Eventually she had run out of sub plans to use, something she had seemed almost pleased by, and the lessons began to vastly improve in quality as well.

By the end of their Dracula unit she was moving them onto choice novels, something the majority of the class was significantly more excited about.

Regulus had chosen the Odyssey, mostly because he already kind of knew what happened in it so it shouldn’t have been as much work. Evan had gone with Wuthering Heights because Regulus and Barty had both already read it so if he struggled at all with it he had two people he could ask for help. So far though they had both been getting through them without issue.

“I don’t understand this.” Evan announced, loudly setting his tray onto the table. “Why the HELL would Heathcliff just LEAVE Catherine and marry Isabella? It’s absolute nonsense!”

Barty nodded sagely through a bite of meatloaf.

“Ah, a fellow member of the Heathcliff hate club I see. We welcome you to our ranks.” Evan ignored him and continued to rant.

“And HINDLEY! What kind of sick fuck shoves a knife in his kids mouth, dangles them over a multi story stairwell, and then threatens to kill them while laughing!”

Regulus fought down the amused smile that tried to rise to his face. Hindley had always been his least favorite character as well, and he would be the first to admit that he hadn’t been horribly upset when the Earnshaw had bitten the dust.

Whatever else Evan had wanted to say ended up coming out nonsensical and Regulus had to fight the urge to laugh. Whenever the boy got mad his extremely pale skin got VERY red, and it just so happened to be about the same shade as the meatloaf he was eating.

They had begun to draw the attention of the rest of the room as well. Hands over mouths and shaking shoulders betrayed that Regulus was not the only one who found this incredibly amusing.

Barty had resorted to holding his gut as he absolutely lost it, laughter echoing around the room.

“Evan Rosier my friend,” he said between gasps, “I think I might need you to read every book I’ve ever had to read for this school. Golden takes all around.”

Evan seemed to realize in that moment that the entire room was staring at him and if his face physically could have gotten any redder without popping like a cherry tomato then it likely would have. He took a deep breath before dramatically resting his forehead onto the table.

“I’ll just die thanks.”

The entire room burst into laughter, Regulus included. It was one of the only times in the remembered history of the lunch room that they’d all been focused on one thing and Regulus tried to capture it in his head.

It was nice to see them happy for once.

Regulus was displeased to find out that it was in fact Nurse Margo’s day off.

Stepping through the clear glass sliding doors and slammed with the familiar smell of antiseptic he wanted more than anything to turn around and go home. But unfortunately, he could no longer deny the distinct thirst that came with needing to satiate his need for blood consumption, and he could only (legally) do that here.

He checked in at the front desk of the vamp unit, sorry the “blood distribution unit”, and tried to quench even a little bit of his thirst with a soggy paper cup of water. It wasn’t very effective.

He remained there for maybe another fifteen minutes, mindlessly scrolling through his unread messages, a couple from Barty and Evan, a likely insurance scam, nothing outside the normal.

By the time he was finally led back he was one of the only ones in the waiting room. His appointment time was almost always one of the last ones, something that was both a curse and a blessing. In pros, it lessened the chance of him running into someone he knew, and in cons it meant he had to sit with his thirst for far longer than most others did.

He sat down in the familiar chair, trying to ignore the dark red and brown stains that even bleach couldn’t get out of the purple paisley pattern. Regulus’s stomach dropped as the door opened and Nurse Darlene walked in. Nurse Darlene famously HATED working in the vamp unit and every time he’d had her had been memorable.

He must have made SOME kind of expression she deemed unacceptable because she glared at him as she gestured to his arm. The pale skin was tough and lightly scabbed in some places, courtesy of this having been done to it and its counterpart three times a week for most of Regulus’s life.

She then proceeded to use his “impossible” but VERY visible veins as an excuse for why she missed them not once, not twice, but THREE times.

Blood welled up from the failed attempts, the smell making Regulus’s stomach roil and the hair stand up on the back of his neck. The tube was moved harshly, pulling on the needle FINALLY in his arm, and Regulus fought the urge to throw up. By the time the bag was attached and flowing Regulus was nearing unconsciousness.

He could feel the sticky wetness of his own blood dripping down his arm, acid like in its texture, burning, burning.

He could the blood of a stranger flowing into his arm, foreign and painful, satiating his fucking monster instincts. Tears blurred over his vision as he fought the urge to rip out the IV. The nurses hate when you do that, he’d found out the hard one.

Regulus pulled his phone from his pocket in a vice grip, shaking hands dialing one of only two starred contacts. He missed once, then again, before finally he could hear the tinny sound of his ringtone.

Sirius picked up on the fourth ring.

His voice rang out loudly in the quiet room.

“Reggie! Dear brother, what possesses thou to call upon thy elder brother!” Small laughs could be heard in the background, probably the self named “marauders”, but Regulus couldn’t really focus enough to care.

“Talk to me.” he paused for a moment. “Please.”

Immediately Sirius dropped the sing-song voice and a shutting door signaled that he’d left whatever room he’d been in before.

“What’s going on Regulus, are you alright? Do I need to pick you up?”

Regulus leaned his head back, trying and failing to keep the salty tears from running down his face.

“Bad transfusion. Just please, talk about… anything”

“Okay.”

Sirius did exactly that. He launched into a nearly incomprehensible ramble about his friends and the drama that was floating amongst the seventh years.

James had recently purchased a whole bouquet of sunflowers in an attempt to get Lily to go to the fall formal with him, not knowing that she was in fact VERY allergic to pollen and she had sneezed and sniffled her way through her entire rejection. Sirius thought the whole thing was uproariously funny, but he had to be supportive of his best friend regardless and so he’d taken James to go get some ice cream afterschool instead.

That was related to the reason that he was at James’s house right now to begin with actually, the “marauders” had collectively decided they needed to have a “boys night” at the Potters, and who was Sirius to say no to the love of his life James Potter.

Regulus laughed wetly, pressing the back of his IV arm to his eyes.

“That’s so dumb. How has he not given up yet?”

Sirius sighed loudly, the sound cracking through the phone audio.

“I know not, yet I do not ask. Such is the way of marriage.”

Regulus sighed nearly as hard.

“If you all keep joking about that then one day Mother and Father will overhear and we’re going to ACTUALLY have to run away.”

Sirius scoffed offendedly, “I think they’d have bigger problems than if I married my best friend if we decided to run away.”

Regulus smiled softly.

“I suppose they would.”

The opening of the door behind him signaled the return of Nurse Darlene and Regulus felt his heart rate increase again.

“I have to go, Sirius.”
“Okay.”

Regulus tucked his phone back into his pocket and clenched his eyes shut as Nurse Darlene closed and removed the IV with far more care than she had put it in. If Regulus had to guess she probably thought it was more important to be humane closer to when someone was going to ask about how the transfusion went.

Her worries were all for naught of course, Regulus’s word meant practically nothing even if he DID try to report her, and it wasn’t like there was another hospital anywhere in a twenty mile radius that he could fall back on if this one decided he was dangerous and no longer worth the risk of providing medical care to.

He waited his obligatory “hope there’s no adverse reaction” time in relative peace and quiet, and by the time he arrived home Regulus was very ready to go to sleep. The sun had mostly set so there was little risk of intense sunburn. Slightly opened curtains allowed for the soft orange glow of the sunset to cut a line onto the carpet, the dangerous warmth something that Regulus so longed to touch.

If only he could touch it.

Chapter Text

Regulus only lay in bed for a few moments before there was a knock on his door. Sirius most likely, nobody else bothered to come up here.

Sure enough, Sirius poked his head through the cracked door a moment later, one hand clapped over his eyes.

“Are you decent Reggie.” Regulus sighed,

“Yes brother, I have clothes on.”

“Excellent then.”

Sirius dropped the hand from his eyes and Regulus winced. There was a nasty looking bruise under his left eye, purple, framed with sick looking greens and yellows. Sirius must have caught him looking because he shrugged.

“Nothing too bad don’t worry yourself, my face had an unfortunate meeting with the table while I was discussing matters with our Mother.”

A silent understanding passed between them. They knew what had really happened but didn’t dare say it out loud. Regulus patted the spot on the bed next to him and Sirius hopped over with all of the energy of a golden retriever puppy.

“What’s going on?” Regulus asked, not unhappy, just tired. Sirius flopped onto his back.

“You had a rough day, so I just wanted to come check on you, is that okay?”

“It’s alright I suppose. Just a rough transfusion, bad nurse.” Sirius wrinkled his nose.

“Was it Darlene whats-her-face.”

“Unfortunately.”

They lay in silence for a few minutes, the quiet somewhere between comfortable and uncomfortable. Regulus loved his brother, of course he did, but the whole heart to heart thing didn’t come super naturally to either of them. Shocker.

“Would you come with me if I actually left?” Sirius asked suddenly. Regulus sat up and turned to look at him, eyebrows furrowed.

“What?”

Sirius sat up, leaving them mere inches away from touching.

“If I said I was going to leave this house, like forever, and move in with James and the Potters, would you come with me?” Regulus laughed incredulously, raking his fingers through his hair.

“I can’t, how would that even work?”

“The Potter’s are progressive,” Sirius insisted, “they wouldn’t care, they would take care of you a million times better than Mother and Father do they-”

“I can’t.” Regulus cut in. A lump began to rise in his throat, dread beginning to fill his whole body. Dear god, Sirius had PLANNED this.

“Even if I DID come with you,” Regulus continued, “I’d have to come crawling back the second I needed a transfusion because they’re still my legal guardians and if they say I can’t get blood anymore then I can’t.”

“We’d figure something out, there would have to be someone willing to do them for you, the Potter’s both work in the medical field so they must know someone!” Sirius’s voice was rising now and Regulus rose angrily to shut the door, the little voice in the back of his head terrified that Mother or Father could overhear them.

“No.” Regulus snapped. “That’s not how this works. You do not get to gamble with my literal fucking life much less my FREEDOM.” He got right back in Sirius’s face.

“Do you know what they do to vampires who lose it dear brother? What you would be condemning me to?”

Sirius shook his head in a mixture of angry and stunned silence.

“They kill us Sirius!” Regulus was aware his voice was nearing hysterical, but he needed to get it all out or he would explode.

“They stake you, knock you out if you’re lucky, and most aren’t, cut off your fucking head and bury you under a fucking garlic patch raised on holy water, Sirius I’ve seen the bodies!”

Sirius looked horrified as he tried to reach out to Regulus, but he was shoved off.

“Don’t touch me.” Regulus snarled, shoving Sirius from the bed onto his feet, fearing that if he was close to his brother for any longer he would punch him or break down and hug him. Regulus wasn’t sure which was worse. Sirius looked hurt for a moment before his eyes hardened.

“Fine then.” he announced. “Stay in this fucking hellhole.”

Regulus remembered the first time he saw the corpse of a vampire.

She’d been young, maybe seventeen or eighteen at the most, pale skin devoid of a single drop of blood, dark hair swept haphazardly into two braids, one of which laid atop part of her face like it had been tossed there.

Her mouth had been permanently fixed shut, hiding the fangs that had landed her here, like they could protect her from even more from the people around her now that she lay in the dark crypt.

The coffin itself was a dark red wood- eerily similar to blood thought young Regulus- the top laying on the floor next to the box. Sitting on a nearby stand was a blown up photograph of the girl in life, nearly unrecognizable to her in death.

It showed her mid laughter, her eyes on whatever was just behind the camera. Behind her glowed the lights of Florean Fortescue’s ice cream parlor, and Regulus couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been there that night. He wondered if Florean had her order memorized too.

He probably did.

The next morning Sirius was nowhere to be found.
Regulus checked everywhere, his brother's room, the living room and kitchen area, ALL of the offices, his OWN room, but no luck.

For a fleeting moment he grew afraid that their prior conversation had ACTUALLY inspired Sirius to run away WITHOUT Regulus, and that fear alone was enough to drive Regulus to be haphazard when it came to skin protection.

As a matter of fact it had been second thought to even put on LONG SLEEVES.

So when he stepped into his fathers office, face mostly uncovered, it didn’t occur to him to check if the curtains were closed. They in fact were not.

Blinding pain erupted across the side of Regulus’s face, the skin bubbling up in blisters immediately upon being scorched by the light.

Unable to see anymore, Regulus slammed his shoulder into the doorframe as he tried to leave the room. Barely registering the new pain he fumbled, trying to find the door until he could finally close off the light and he was able to collapse onto the floor against it.

Thank whatever god was listening out there that Regulus was the first one awake meaning that the rest of the curtains downstairs were closed, plunging Regulus back into the safety of the darkness.

The hardwood tiles were cool, seeping up into the heat that seemed to consume Regulus’s entire body, and he fought the urge to shove his face onto them.

Thoughts were struggling to make their way to the forefront of Regulus’s brain, held back by wave after wave of indescribably agony.

So instead of trying to rise and find help, he did the only thing that he felt he could.

He stayed put.

Regulus wasn’t sure how long he laid there for, it could have been minutes it could have been hours.

At some point he became distantly aware of the front door opening, morning sunlight flooding into the entryway of the house.

Regulus instinctively shrunk away from it with a cry and whoever had opened the door suddenly froze.

Regulus blinked again and the figure in front of him was crouched down, voice terrified and frantic.

“Reggie…Regulus…me.”

Oh Sirius. That was Sirius’s voice.

He hadn’t tried to run away after all.

Sirius’s face was blurred out, the only thing Regulus could make out for sure being the curls of his hair that fell against Regulus’s face as his brother leaned in close.

Sirius was yelling now.

The pain was a little less screaming now, fading into the background ever so slightly, but so was everything else. Darkness began to press in on the edges of Regulus’s vision and he was loath to deny its calm and cool approach.

Sirius had been joined by three other blobs now, voices loud and jumbled. They grew quiet for a moment before Regulus felt himself rise from the ground, arms in the grips of two of the figures that he was pretty sure weren’t Sirius.

Everything was dark now, and the voices started to get quieter.

He was warmer again, and he could tell that his face had been covered again, at some point he wondered if he was still in his house, but he dismissed that as folly.

Something rumbled beneath him, and whatever he was laying on top of was soft. Even if he could have, he wasn’t sure if he would have wanted to move anyways. Someone was running their fingers through his hair and he tried to push into the touch, but gentle hands on his shoulder kept him still.

A burning itch had started to make itself known in Regulus’s eyes, and when he tried to itch it he found that his arms were similarly trapped down by his sides.

Murmurs surrounded Regulus but he couldn’t make out what any of them were saying, he was vaguely aware that some of them were directed at him but no luck.

The itching was growing until it was unbearable, annoyance at his restraint growing to anger as he lashed out, arms swinging.

He managed to break free at least on one side, growling wildly as it made contact with something soft.

He felt his fangs elongate and the murmurs suddenly got MUCH louder, his free hand being pinned down again as he thrashed, the pain coming back all at once until he could do little more than let burning tears come down his fiery face and hope that the darkness would come back.
Regulus wasn’t entirely sure what happened after that.

He was being moved again, and he was now pretty sure he could escape if he wanted to, but something in the back of his head said that would be a bad idea.

The darkness was back.

Chapter Text

Regulus knew he was conscious, but it certainly didn’t feel that way.

His limbs felt like they were floating, his head the weight of a bowling ball keeping him tethered to the earth. The world was still dark, a cool pressure pressing against his frustratingly sore eyes. Regulus could hear a faint beeping noise somewhere to his right, a quiet shuffling to his left. Someone was probably in the room with him then.

There was no way in hell his parents would have actually come to check on him, but other than Barty, who likely would’ve had no idea this incident had even occured, Regulus struggled to come up with anyone who’d actually visit him.

Regulus tried to lift his arms and bring them towards his face, but quickly found that something was keeping them touching the surface he was on. He pulled again, harder this time, growing increasingly frustrated as he realized how trapped he truly was. Legs seemingly in a similar situation, Regulus fought back the urge to cry again, nose sniffling.

“Whoa whoa whoa…” Regulus froze.

Oh that was Sirius again. Sirius had come to see Regulus? He’d been quite certain that his brother had left him permanently for James Potter, but there was no mistaking that voice.

Sirius continued to make shushing sounds, warm hands landing on Regulus’s arms. All of a sudden the feeling slammed back into Regulus’s entire body, crushing pressure landing on his chest, pressing the air out of it. He needed to move, but now that the feeling was all back it was horrifyingly clear that Regulus couldn’t escape.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck oh fuck.

Had he flipped out on someone? Is that why they had him tied down? The memory of why he was here was fuzzy, but Regulus was distinctly less thirsty than he should have been. Regulus froze as Sirius’s fingers lightly touched the covering on his eyes, touch surprisingly gentle. A moment later a no less considerate hand lifted the back of his hand and then the bandages were gone.

For a moment all Regulus could see was blinding light, flooding his extremely sensitive retinas. Instantly he tried to roll over, to escape the sunlight that was so clearly about to Dust him. When he was sharply reminded that he could in fact not do that he tried to curl up into a ball, to at least protect his face from being melted, only to find out that he couldn’t do that either. A high keening noise escaped his throat, one he tried to clamp down, Mother and Father never would have tolerated such childish whining, and then Sirius’s warm hands were back on his face. They held tight, thumbs grasping just over Regulus’s cheekbones.

“Hey.” Sirius said insistently. “Don’t do that.” Of course Sirius wouldn’t have noticed that the sun was flowing through the windows like a river of death coming to incinerate Regulus’s being.

“The sun.” Regulus managed to croak, voice scratchy and painful. “It burns. Please. Sirius please.” Sirius’s hands moved to cover Regulus’s eyes, cupping like a protective shield.

“There’s no sun in here Reg, it’s just the lights. It’s okay, you’re not burning.” Regulus continued to shake, the salty tears forming in his eyes only making the burning worse.

“Sirius please.”

“Trust me.”

Regulus tried to grit his teeth together, the fangs that had emerged during his fear scoring thin bloody lines down the inside of his cheeks. Hesitantly he cracked his eyes open slowly, the only light filtering through the gaps of Sirius’s fingers.

“I’m trying.” Regulus half whispered half sobbed. Sirius’s hands moved deliberately and almost achingly slowly as light slowly filled Regulus’s world. Everything was distinctly blurry, but his brother hadn’t lied to him, even if the burning continued across his face and neck. Sirius’s face was barely a foot from his own, warm breath gusting against Regulus’s face, nothing more than a pale oval framed in black.

“Why is it so blurry?” Regulus asked softly. Sirius inhaled sharply, voice carefully measured.

“Regulus you got burned pretty badly. On your eyes especially.” he let out his inhale just as quickly.

“Regulus what happened.”

“How badly.” Regulus insisted, turning his head to face his brother.

“According to the doctors your eyes should get better you're going to have some pretty vicious burn scarring on your face and neck.” Sirius recited, the words charged with tension. “Regulus, you're always so careful, how did this happen?”

“But I’ll be able to see again.”

“Yes-”

“Okay and-”

“Regulus!” Sirius's voice cracked, bleeding with some combination of fear, anger, and sadness.

“I thought you were going to die!” he exclaimed. “When I walked in you were on the ground face literally melting the fuck off and you couldn’t even tell who I was!”
“I knew who you were.” Regulus said quietly. “I knew from the moment you walked through the front door.”

“But why Regulus, what was so important that you had to hurt yourself like that? Was it on purpose?” Sirius pressed his head to Regulus’s chest, wetting the front of his shirt with tears of his own.

“No, never.” Regulus replied fervently. He never would have chosen to Dust himself, never would have subjected himself to that horror intentionally.

“Then why.” Sirius’s voice was so filled with pain that Regulus’s own broke in sympathy.

“Ithoughtyouleftme.”

“What?”

Regulus forced himself to slow down, shaking his way through each word.

“I thought you left me.”

For a moment everything slammed to a halt. Neither of them dared to breathe, dared to look the other in the eye.

“Reggie-” Sirius began, but Regulus cut him off, voice desperate.

“Promise me.” Sirius pulled his hands to his chest, leaning away now.

“Reggie-”

“Please.”

“Okay.”

The next three days passed in a kind of blur. Slowly but surely Regulus’s vision began to return, still somewhat sensitive to light and certainly not perfect, but he could see almost to the level he had previously for the most part.

The burning had certainly done a number on his face though. The blisters had mostly popped at this point, but a dark red, slightly raised scar stretching from Regulus’s cheekbone nearly to his nose that faded into his jawline and neck had permanently marred Regulus’s face in a way that would surely scare away some people. Not that Regulus particularly cared about that.

On the second day Barty barreled through the door, a whirlwind of worry and half melted takeout Florean Fortescue’s ice cream. Evan followed in a few seconds after, significantly calmer and with a small hand of sunflowers. He dropped his hood upon entry, revealing his deeply furrowed brows as he took in Regulus’s face.

“That looks like it hurts.”

Regulus laughed softly, the action pulling against the injured skin. “Yeah well it certainly doesn’t feel good.”

“Do they have you hopped up on the good stuff?” Evan continued, “or has it been designated elsewhere?”
Regulus wrinkled his nose. He certainly hadn’t been allocated the typical painkillers he would’ve appreciated.

“Elsewhere” he decided on. Evan nodded knowingly. Barty on the other hand looked to Evan incredulously, but the look he received silenced him quickly and he shook his shoulders as if to clear his head.

“We brought ice cream!” he announced, seeming as though he’d just remembered it. Barty set down the carton on a table before pulling paper plates and bowls out of his backpack.

“Fortescue originally said he was out of vanilla-”

“Which is absurd!” Evan cut in, “What ice cream shop runs out of vanilla!”

Barty waved him off quickly, eager to finish, “But THEN he told him that it was for you because there’d been an accident and he pulled it out of some super duper dark freezer in the back!” He passed filled bowls to Regulus and Evan. “So if you suddenly choke and die on it because some brain eating parasite is living in the bag of holding that is Florean Fortescue’s freezer, perish knowing I only wished to please you.”

Evan sighed deeply and disappointedly. “Crouch you can’t say that we’re in a HOSPITAL!”

Barty couldn’t and didn’t respond, mouth full of ice cream. Regulus took a small bite of his own, reveling in the cold sweetness against the warmth of his cheeks.

“I think we might need to request secret chamber ice cream every time, fuck that’s good.”
The three of them sat there in the quiet for a while, eating their way through the ice cream as the world moved around them. Regulus’s face still burned, stinging with every swallow or movement, but he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care.

Later, he wished these were the hours he wished he could return to, but for now it was enough.

Chapter Text

Regulus was released from St. Mungo’s general hospital three days later with a jar of ointment and a fresh transfusion running through his veins. Sirius had come to discharge him in their parents' stead, something he could do as of early this week.

Their parents hadn’t visited Regulus once while he’d been in the hospital, and despite what he wanted to think, Regulus felt a little hurt that they couldn’t spare an hour to come see him when he’d been horribly injured, especially in their household, but it wasn’t like it was unsurprising.

In nearly opposite fashion Regulus had rarely gone an hour in the past three days where he hadn’t seen his brother. Sirius was always there, usually content to chatter loudly and mostly to himself while Regulus half listened, another thing Regulus wouldn’t admit that he’d come to enjoy.

When he wasn’t rhetorically speaking at a higher than appropriate volume he was either asleep in the cot that someone had brought in for him on the first day, or he was reading some book that Lupin had stopped by drop off for him.

His brother’s best friend had looked at Regulus strangely, almost accusingly, before Sirius was laughing and enveloping him in a tight hug that he seemed to melt into. Something in that stare bothered Regulus but he couldn’t quite place why exactly it made the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

Other members of the “Marauders” had come through sporadically as well, James being perfectly happy to hang out with both Sirius as well as Regulus and Regulus was surprised that James was just as excited to talk to him as he was Sirius. Honestly you could’ve probably put anyone in a locked room alone with James Potter and they would become best friends within the hour. Regulus was no exception to this rule apparently, as he found himself laughing at the others stupid jokes more often than not.

Pettigrew had supposedly come a couple times if the rather lovely sunflowers by Regulus’s bed were any kind of sign, Regulus happened to know that his family owned a flower shop, but Regulus had unfortunately been asleep both times. Out of all the “marauders” Peter was the one Regulus had actually spent the most time with.

He was friends, and Regulus was pretty sure neighbors, with one of the fifth years who typically ate lunch with the vamps meaning that Peter wasn’t a rare sight either. For the most part he kept to himself, enough so that Regulus hadn’t even been sure of his name until he’d heard it from his brother.

But regardless, Regulus was shedding no tears as he walked past all the doctors that had tried to supposedly “save his face”, his face already hidden for the most part under his dark hood. Despite his futile attempts, Regulus couldn’t seem to stop checking to make sure that his hood was pulled far enough up that it fully protected his face.
The problem only worsened when they reached the ground floor and Regulus was finally able to see the sunshine rushing through the glass sliding doors and suddenly Regulus’s feet stopped working. The back of his throat began to burn as Sirius turned around, appearing confused as to why they’d stopped. Regulus didn’t know why either, but deep down he knew that if he stepped into that sunlight then it was going to burn him, that it was going to hurt.

“Hey Reggie let’s go,” Sirius beckoned, “I parked the car really close so we don’t even have to walk that far.”

Regulus felt his shoulders begin to shake as he took a step back, hands clutching his sleeves, trying to pull them more, down, further.

“Woah woah woah-” Sirius clamped his hands firmly on Regulus’s shoulders, preventing him from going back even further. “We’ve gotta go out there, but it won’t burn you, I won’t let it.” He turned and pulled Regulus so that the only opening in Regulus’s sun protection was pressed against his back.

Regulus tensed for a moment in surprise, but allowed himself to be moved as he breathed in the smell of his brothers’ hoodie. It smelled a little like sweat from the sheer length of wear, but it also smelled of campfires, warm and smoky. The shaking began to ease slowly, but it did.

“There we go,” Sirius murmured, voice quiet enough that only Regulus could hear. Then, and only then, they began to walk, Regulus’s face no longer touching, but still close to Sirius’s back. His breath stuttered slightly as he felt the familiar and uncomfortable warmth seep into his back, but they kept moving until Sirius unlocked the car and Regulus slid into the passenger seat.

Exhaustion weighed heavy on his eyes as he fought to keep them open for the mere fifteen minute drive back to their home despite the fact that Regulus had slept more in the past three days then he had ever.

The windows of the car were blacked out so they were safe for Regulus, but he kept his hood up anyways. Even if he’d never once been burned from the inside of this car, instinctively he couldn’t seem to let his guard down.

It still hurt a decent amount to lean his face on anything so Regulus found himself trying to lean the top of his head against the car door, putting his neck at an extremely awkward angle that was sure to leave a crick in it.

Sirius had been quiet for the most part, humming along nonchalantly to some rock song Regulus didn’t recognize that was playing on the radio. He was clearly exhausted too, dark bags hanging heavy under gray eyes. Regulus wasn’t even certain that Sirius had been home since he’d been admitted, and Regulus vaguely recalled him coming through the front door while he’d been burning meaning that he hadn’t been home before that either.

Regulus still wasn’t sure where his brother had been where he’d tried to get back to the house so early, it certainly wasn’t like him but Sirius had always been at least a little bit of a mystery to Regulus.

By the time they pulled up outside of the house Regulus was questioning all decisions that had led him up to this point. He kept replaying that conversation with Sirius in his head, over and over. How he’d promised to not leave him.

Sirius brought Regulus out of his thoughts by tapping his shoulder.

“Are you ready to get out?”

Regulus checked his sun protection one more time before nodding, stepping out of the car and approaching the front porch.

When he opened the door he was greeted by the dead silence and creaky floorboards of his entire life. The portrait of his grandmother that had lived on the wall since time immemorial seemed to glare through Regulus’s very soul and he shrank down just a little bit under her scrutiny.

Sirius shut the door behind them, the two remaining quiet as they removed their shoes and placed them in the closet. It looked as though nobody had even come through here in the past three days and if Regulus looked close enough at the entrance to the office he felt as though he could see the disturbance in perfection as if he was still laying there.

A waving hand caught Regulus’s gaze. “I’m going to make some dinner, do you want some?” Sirius asked.

“Sure.” Sirius nodded without further questioning and disappeared into the kitchen, soon followed by the sounds of clanging pots and pans.

Regulus carefully climbed the stairs to his room, finally lowering his hood and shedding the jacket and gloves entirely.

The bed sheets lay messy and undone, tangled up in past Regulus’s panic, strewn nearly atop the bed. Mother never would have stood for a messy room such as this.

That could mean only one thing.

Mother wasn’t here.

Thank God.

Regulus took his time changing into more comfortable clothes, exchanging the rest of his sun gear for a large hooded hoodie and jeans, the fabric a balm to his itchy skin. The burn itself was still making its presence known, but it was miles and miles better than the scratchy clothes he’d been wearing for the past three days.

The only thing that could possibly make this better is if he could take a steaming shower, but alas that sounded like actual hell on earth for his blistering skin. Even so, this was enough for now.

Eventually he wandered down the stairs and into the kitchen, where it now smelled wonderfully of spice and lemons.

“So where have mother and father gone?” Regulus asked. The sudden voice surprised Sirius so much that he dropped the spoon he was holding onto, clattering loudly on the tile.

“Fuck” Sirius cursed, “Jesus Reg, a little warning?” Regulus raised one eyebrow and his brother groaned.

“They left for one of their sketchy conferences last night” Sirius offered, “Not sure when they’re going to get back, don’t particularly care.”

So that was why they hadn’t visited Regulus in the hospital then. He got down two bowls and passed them over to Sirius who filled them with warm chicken soup.

Again, not surprising, but considering Sirius had labeled it as one of the “sketchy” ones, there really was no telling when they would be back. At least a week probably, and Regulus intended to enjoy every single moment of it.

That also explained why all the curtains had been closed when they’d arrived, it was still early enough in the day that Walburga Black would sooner give up her first born child than sacrifice natural light in her parlor. But Regulus digressed.

Once they’d both finished, Regulus quickly confirmed that the sun had mostly gone down before stepping out onto the porch. His vision had mostly come back, but it was still just blurry enough to bother him that he couldn’t make out all of the tiny details.

It was unlikely that any stars would be out yet, but Regulus was willing to wait for them. Slowly the world began to darken, the disappearing sunlight lifting with it some of the weight from Regulus’s soul.

By the time it was fully dark, Regulus had laid down on the hard concrete of the driveway, ignoring the way loose pebbles cut into his skin and soaking in the light of the moon.

This is where he was supposed to be after all, what his instincts demanded. He wondered distantly what it would be like if he could live like this all the time, instead of the coverups and transfusions basking in the power of the night and breathing in the cool air.

Not so distantly he wondered what he would be willing to give up for that. To live like Barty did, like Sirius or James did, live in a world that was intended for him.

He wondered if that would be so hard.

Chapter Text

Regulus had been dreading going back to Hogwarts.

He’d spent three rather lovely days at home typically by his lonesome except when Sirius came back in the evenings to cook or check on Regulus. Barty and Evan had stopped by briefly at one point, something that had never actually occurred before, Regulus uncertain how they’d gotten his address to begin with.

But Regulus’s professors and school administration would likely wait no longer for him to return to class without it becoming a whole ordeal, so on Thursday morning he did his best to mentally prepare himself.

Regulus had known people were probably going to stare, first of all he was likely the most recognizable vamp in the entire school, and second of all he’d just returned from a several day absence with a sizable scar that covered a near third of his face.

The burn itself had finally begun to heal with Regulus actually able to rest at home in the darkness, but it still left blisters that pulled and twisted every time Regulus moved, arcing down the side of his neck like bloody cherry petals.

The point was it was incredibly obvious and impossible to hide.

Regulus tried to hold his head high like he’d been instructed to do his entire life, (Blacks didn’t back down from those below them), but every time someone scowled at him or pointed he mentally shrunk down just a little bit.

McGonagall hadn’t said anything about it when he’d entered her literature class, but the turn of her mouth was tight as she went over what he’d missed and needed to make up. Thank the lord it wasn’t that much, (Regulus suspected that she was exempting him from some thing), and it wasn’t long before he was safely in his seat near the corner.

Also notably, the blinds had been fully shut for the day, the curtains even partially shut. Regulus was unsure if that was for his benefit but regardless it meant that he was at least a little bit safer than he typically was in the class.

Before long Evan entered the class, green hood pulled forward to his eyebrows and blonde hair spilling out the front. His head, slumped in order to prevent the protective folds from moving, perked up when he saw Regulus sitting in his regular seat.

Quickly nodding to McGonagall in greeting, Evan speedily made his way to his desk, leaning forwards until he was most certainly in Regulus’s space.

Fighting the urge to affectionately roll his eyes, Regulus turned around so that they were face to face. Evan quickly glanced over to the windows, smiling a little when he realized they were fully closed and throwing his hood off to rest on his shoulders.

Regulus raised an eyebrow at that. He’d been so cautious for so long that he tended to keep his own hood on during the day regardless of how light the room itself was, it would be too easy to flip the blinds and be dusted, but Evan either didn’t realize that, unlikely, or he trusted McGonagall not to dust him. It was a bold move either way.

Regulus honestly wished he had the courage for that, the past three days had been spent largely in almost complete darkness, and the little sunlight he had seen still sent shivers of fear down his spine.

He also wished that it was an irrational fear, but as the scar on his face clearly proved, it was quite the opposite.

Regardless he knew it was one he would have to get over eventually, as much as he would have liked staying in the safety of sewn together curtains and cool blackness he couldn’t become a hermit for the rest of his life. And that wasn’t even mentioning the fact that he needed to leave the house at LEAST three times a week for transfusions anyways.

It was a problem that needed to be dealt with, but Regulus hoped it would deal with itself in time.

Evan chattered excitedly about whatever school drama had occurred in Regulus’s absence, Dorcas and Marlene had finally gotten together, Evan himself had made friends with a few of the younger vamp kids, all things that had no larger ramifications but Regulus had no problem hearing about.

By the time the rest of the class had filed in, Regulus was already less nervous. McGonagall began to talk about their upcoming essays (How social movements mimic literature), and suddenly it was almost as though it was a week ago and all was well as it could be.

Chemistry passed in a similar fashion, and it was only a lecture day, no possibility for any “entirely accidental” lab accidents, Slughorn seemingly exhausted enough that he couldn’t bring himself to make any backhanded or insensitive remarks. Regulus was happy to simply bury himself in his balanced equations and elements, things that had always made significantly more sense to him than the large majority of social aspects (those had had to be ingrained in him by force instead).

Lunch was spaghetti again, something that actually ruffled Evan’s feathers as he insisted Barty try his first.

“Try this.” he demanded, “I need to know if it tastes like lies and deceit aka garlic.”
Barty threw his head back in laughter, clutching his stomach. Evan however was dead serious, eye twitching dangerously.

“Would you rather I consume literal poison Bartemius?”

“No no, of course not!” Barty wheezed. “I simply must know what lies and deceit taste like!”

“Hopefully not my fucking spaghetti!” Evan growled, hands raking down his face.

“Come on please?” he continued, “I forgot to do my homework for Slughorn and am absolutely fucking starved.”

Barty repositioned himself so that he was sitting up entirely straight, reminiscent of the way Regulus was expected to sit at any and all meals or events, perfectly poised so that he had grown nearly half a foot in his chair.

“Alright then, pass the deceit darling” he conceded. When Evan shoved the tray in his direction he took his sweet time perfectly turning his fork in the noodles, rolling them into a ball which he daintily raised to his mouth and ate.

He made an exaggeratedly contemplative face as he chewed, giving a haughty “hmmm” after swallowing. Barty waited for a moment in silence until Evan groaned and took the tray back, snatching the fork from Barty’s hands.

“I’ll eat the fucking spaghetti you asshole.” he grumbled. Regulus fought back a laugh, though unwilling to admit that he too had been skeptical of the school lunch after last week’s garlic incident.

Regulus tuned out his friend’s intense but affectionate bickering and began to mindlessly scroll through his news feed, barely glancing at each headline before moving on to the next one.

“Skeeter special: What’s really in Polyjuice?”

“Stirrings in the underground, who is Tom Riddle?”

“Blood shortage worsens, how bad is it really?”

“Is veganism actually good for the environment?”

“Rita Skeeter illegal activities exposed?”

“New vamp law proposed in Congress today, what does it mean?”

Regulus’s scrolling slammed to a halt, almost accidentally turning off his phone in his hurry to click to the full article, beginning to read.

The senate met today to discuss a new law regarding the vampire population, a group with roughly 16 million members across the country.

With the ongoing blood shortage, brought about by fewer donations as well as increased stigma around anti-vampire sentiments, many have raised concerns about where the increasingly limited supply of blood is going.

That is to say, how much of it is going to the vampire population.

Using last year’s estimates, approximately 50% of blood donated is used in transfusions that sustain the group, with most receiving approximately a gallon of outside blood a week in order to survive.

However as proposed by Congressman Earnest Hawkworth, this amount needs to be decreased in order to account for the smaller overall supply of blood donated. He suggests immediately cutting the allotted weekly dosage to ¾ of a gallon, and then continuing to decrease it as the blood shortage continues.

Upon announcement of the bill several Vampire activist groups immediately decried it as blatantly discriminatory, as well as a violation of their rights.

According to one such activist the law “puts what may be our societies most legally vulnerable group in a position where they can do both nothing to help themselves as well as potentially leaving them prone to more legal trouble as vampire related accidents are sure to increase.”

Regulus flinched hard as a hand landed on his shoulder, looking up into Barty’s concerned eyes.

“Hey, whatcha looking at Regulus?” he asked soothingly, moving to take the phone out of Regulus’s hands. Regulus didn’t resist him, feeling as though the horror was crushing him until he was unable to move.

Barty sucked in a fast breath, eyes widening. Evan crossed the table as well, lip trembling as he read the first few lines.

The blood drained from his face as he continued to read.

‘He needed to be careful about that now’ Regulus thought to himself.

Because now there might not be enough blood to replace it.

Chapter Text

Things only got more tense as the week continued.

Regulus was now instinctually checking the news every hour for updates, almost certain that Evan was doing the same, though neither would admit to it. The law had already passed through the house, and was due to be voted on in the senate the following Friday. Until then, the vampire population was forced to wait in terrified silence as they waited to hear their fate.

Regulus saw the most change out of any place within their lunch room. The majority of the younger kids were more withdrawn, visibly shakier than they had been before. Regulus and Evan did their best to assuage their concerns, when the little first year Mirabella had asked, tears forming in her eyes, if she was going to die or not, Regulus and Evan exchanged a look.

Anything they said in that situation would have been a lie. They didn’t know what was going to happen and that was even worse.

Walburga and Orion Black had arrived back to Grimmauld on Monday, so it was back to full sunlight in the downstairs area and fully body sun protection for Regulus. His mother had taken one look at her son’s face, lip curling in clear disgust, before turning on her heel and walking the other direction. Regulus pushed down the pain of rejection, but knew it was exactly what he should have expected.

Sightings of Sirius were fewer and farther between after their parent’s return, each interaction a ticking time bomb, charged and ready to go off at any second. He’d promised Regulus that he wouldn’t leave him, held his hand and promised, but some little voice in the back of Regulus’s head couldn’t bring himself to believe that.

Regulus sat in their normal lunch spot alone on Monday.

He’d known that Barty wasn’t going to be there, he’d received a rather long, winding, and dramatic text message from his friend at around six am that morning informing him that he was extremely ill and would not be able to grace Regulus and Evan with his presence come meal time.

Regulus hadn’t however received any kind of correspondence from Evan, and that was more concerning. The last time the boy had been sick he texted immediately, a bad angle selfie taken from his bed titled, “me when God takes me down”. The memory itself was honestly ridiculous, Regulus’s friends both were, but the fact that now his message inbox lay empty left an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

He’d texted Barty about it, but neither of them knew any of Evan’s other friends, meaning that outside of the boy himself, they had no means of confirming his whereabouts, and the thing Regulus was more worried about, his safety.

They knew that his father worked in politics, they weren’t sure exactly what that meant, but it usually manifested in Evan talking about how proud his dad was of his vampire son. The two things connected meant that the man was likely involved with the newest legislative affairs in some way shape or form. So by proxy Evan could be involved.

Regulus tried to tamp down his fear as he slammed his peanut butter sandwich, his mood apparently clear enough that almost everyone else was giving him a wide berth.

About halfway through however he looked up as Mirabella sat down next to him, face set determinedly.

“Hello Mirabella?...” he questioned slowly. Regulus tried to sound kind and calm, even though he was more confused than anything else.

The girl, no more than 11 or 12, finished plopping her backpack down on the floor next to her before placing her tray down as well.

“I’m going to sit with you today!” she announced firmly, an air of authority surrounding her rather small body. Fierce bright green eyes pierced into Regulus, almost leaving him taken aback.

“Alright then?...” he slowly began to finish his sandwich, the girl next to him doing the same, albeit with more vigor. Polishing hers off, Mirabella pulled two rather smushed cupcakes from her backpack passing one off to the side.

“Now you won’t be lonely today, because we’re eating together,” she added, as if the words didn’t take all of the air out of Regulus’s lungs. Barely able to get his voice above a whisper in fear of tears following it he responded,

“Okay then…”

They ate in almost complete silence for the next fifteen minutes, but Regulus did in fact feel strangely comforted by her presence. Glancing about the room he noticed that several other of the kids were missing, especially the younger ones, and including the boy Mirabella usually chattered with.

So they were to be comforted together then.

The next day Barty had returned, but Evan still had not. They’d heard from him in the wee hours of the morning, just a simple “I’m fine” message that did little to assuage Regulus’s anxiety, but it was better than nothing he supposed.

Mirabella showed up to eat with Regulus again, this time with no announcement other than a soft “hello.”
Barty looked at Regulus questioningly but he received a raised eyebrow in return, as if daring him to say something.

Regulus still wasn’t in the mood for long drawn out conversations but he was perfectly content to listen to Barty and Mirabella.

Despite their nearly seven year age difference, they kept managing to find topics to discuss loudly and at length, often at the expense of Regulus’s eardrums.

“There is no world in which math is red,” Mirabella argued, “That’s like saying that literature isn’t green, and I certainly believed you to be more intelligent than that.”

Barty raked his hands down his face dramatically, “child I was doing math before you were even conceived. How could one so youthful as yourself possibly comprehend the intricacies of such a topic? Math is green and will always be green.”

“Perhaps then it’s time for the elderly to step aside and allow the younger generation to take their place as the fixers of all the nonsensical problems that you people have created!”

“Hear hear” Regulus chimed in deadpan through a mouthful of taco meat.

Barty fully committed and collapsed to the desk this time.

“I cannot believe this,” he cried, “my own best friend, Regulus Arcturus Black, is taking the side of a child he’s known for mere months!” he grabbed onto Regulus’s sleeve, “I fear I may not be able to recover from this, hold me Regulus.”
Even Regulus couldn’t fight the laugh that bubbled up inside of him. It felt good to let go for the mere forty minutes that they could be safe, almost like the outside conflicts were blocked out by hard plaster and drywall the same way the sunlight was.

Unfortunately however, that time inevitably came to an end as the bell rang overhead signaling the end of lunch.

Regulus pulled his hood back over his head and slipped his gloves back on. Mirabella did the same, her hood was purple, pulling her hair over her ears for extra safety.

The corner of Regulus’s mouth twitched up as he saw that, the habit one that he too had shared when his hair was long enough to do so. It was fairly useless in practice, but it was vaguely sentimental to see the younger do it nonetheless.

Walking to arithmetic, Regulus checked fruitlessly on his phone again for any message from or about Evan before stepping into the classroom.

Professor Flitwick was a largely non problematic teacher in Regulus’s opinion, on a sliding scale from Lockhart to McGonagall the man fell somewhere in the middle. Another plus, his classroom was located on the inner hallway so it didn’t have windows in the first place.

Regulus kept his hood up anyways in case of light coming through the door as stray students walked in and out, but he pulled off his gloves and placed them on the edge of his desk. A little sacrifice of safety was worth it for once.

Arithmetic was another subject that Regulus didn’t have to try especially hard in, and he was able to achieve a kind of mindlessness as Flitwick rambled about statistics and probability calculations.

Flitwick had never been one for cold calling, so it wasn’t like Regulus was in that much hot water in that department either.

A mere hour later Regulus had completed all of his assignments as well as his literature homework, he’d been doing it while Flitwick lectured, and deigned it as an appropriate time as ever to actually call Evan.

Grabbing the bathroom pass on his way out, Regulus was already scrolling through his contacts. He ducked into an alcove after passing by several other classrooms as the phone rang out quietly.

After a few seconds Regulus was gearing up to try again when there was a soft crackle from the other end of the line signaling that someone had picked up.

“Hello?”

The voice that came through the line was almost unrecognizable as Evan Rosier, scratchy and breathy to the point where the word sounded like it was clawing its way out of the speaker's throat.

“Evan?” Regulus asked, “Is that you?” Coughing came through the speaker for a moment.

“In the flesh,” a scratchy laugh, “or I suppose in the speakers.”

“What happened?” Regulus urged, “Are you alright?”

“Accident.” Evan croaked. “Restaurant didn’t deem it necessary to remove the garlic pieces from their pasta or to tell us about it.”

Regulus was overwhelmed suddenly with both relief and horror simultaneously. Evan was alive and he was going to stay that way. That was good news. But also it was illegal to intentionally injure vampires, including via food. It would have been blatantly clear that Evan couldn’t have garlic, but the staff had done it anyway. That was a hate crime.

“Are you taking legal action?” Regulus asked, trying to keep the shaking out of his voice. “What’s going to happen?”

“Nothing.” Evan replied bitterly. “Father’s lawyers are urging him against-” he dissolved into another painful sounding coughing fit and had to take nearly a minute to calm down.

“Sorry,” he apologized before continuing. “They’re saying there’s no way to prove that it was a hate crime, and nobody will take a case for a bloodsucker-” he spat the word like it was poison “-especially right now with the Senate hearing on Friday.”

Regulus had to bite back his surprise. He’d never heard Evan so angry before, or honestly angry at all. But now his words dripped with uncharacteristic venom. Regulus tried to keep his voice measured.

“That’s fucking awful,” he took a breath, bracing himself for the answer. “What's your dad saying about the hearing on Friday?”

A long sigh could be heard even over the phone.

“Regulus it isn’t looking good. My father is trying to persuade as many people as possible, but I don’t think it’s going to be enough.” he sounded defeated now, and somehow that was worse than his anger.

Regulus Black did not want to hear cheery Evan Rosier sound like he had already given up.

“We’re going to figure this out,” Regulus swore, “Barely matters what the fuck congress says about us, we’re going to figure this out.”

“Alright then Regulus” the cheer had come back a little but it was sickening and falsely sweet in a way that made Regulus's stomach turn.

“I’m counting on you then.”

Chapter Text

Evan Rosier returned to Hogwarts two days later with a new scarlet red scar that decorated his neck and chest like bloody flowers.

He was quieter than usual, his typically cheery and energetic voice replaced by one that creaked and scraped with every word.

Regulus had only known Evan for a little over two weeks, but already it was hard for him to deal with the newfound quiet of their dynamic.

Mirabella’s friends had also not returned, Luca and Lydia she’d informed him one day, nor did she seem to know when they’d be coming back, and so the little first year girl had seemingly cemented herself at their lunch table until further notice.

Nobody complained about her though, Regulus wasn’t sure it was possible to not like the girl, her smile and fiery attitude about nearly everything enough to make even the coldest of hearts consider melting for a moment.

The air in the computer lab was almost stifling in the late summer heat, regardless of the fact that the room itself was freezing. Vamps kept to their little groups for the most part, the occasional non-vamps having slowly disappeared from the room over the course of the last week or so.

Regulus wasn’t sure what to make of that, but by the sudden scarcity of laughs in their little sanctuary, he guessed that many of them hadn’t turned out to be as progressive as they’d originally claimed to be.

Funny how that worked.

Friday morning literature was one of the longest feeling classes that Regulus had ever attended, and his struggle was clearly noticed as McGonnagal sent him on a mission to the office to retrieve some extra paper, knowing eyes looking straight through him.

He knew he didn’t look fantastic, certainly not up to the Black family standard, but heavy bags hung from his eyes, dark enough that the makeup he’d tried to apply had merely made it look worse, (more like a vampire though he hated himself for thinking that).

The heels of his boots clacked down the linoleum of the hallways as he passed classroom after classroom of people largely unaware of the horrors that could be unleashed upon their classmates within the next few hours.

Regulus had tried to think logistically instead of emotionally about what the new law would mean for him if it were to pass. 75% of his normal dosage would likely present minor symptoms according to his research, the hunger of course, it would be a perpetual ghost on all of their shoulders, but also irritability, and potentially some fang malfunction. All things that with a little bit of willpower Regulus was convinced he could deal with if he really really needed to.

The real issue would occur if the dosage continued to go down, then the real carnage would ensue. For most of recorded vampiric history they’d subsisted the old fashioned way, crudely and commonly referred to as the “FTN” or “Fang to neck” era. It wasn’t until the last hundred and fifty years or so that the transfusions had been tested, been cleared, and become the only option, so while none of that generation was alive anymore at least as far as Regulus was aware, it wouldn’t take long to see its return.

Regulus felt guilty for even thinking it but he wasn’t sure he could even blame those who went back to their roots.

He’d very rarely experienced the kind of hunger that drove one to FTN, but all accounts of it described it as all consuming and mind numbingly horrific. Hell, Regulus wasn’t even certain that if he himself got hungry enough he wouldn’t turn on someone.

He’d feel horrifically guilty about it for the rest of his life of course, but it was simply a fact.

And Regulus just needed to look at the facts.

As Regulus pushed open the office doors he was stopped in his tracks immediately as he slammed into another body. He let out a surely undignified noise as his mouth met sweater and he pulled away with a sour face.

Hands fell onto Regulus’s shoulders, patting, for a split second before he pulled away instinctually.

Standing in front of him was a taller man with medium brown skin and almost comically large circular glasses perched in front of alarmed eyes.

“Quite sorry there son,” the man said sincerely, “I didn’t see you there before I opened the door. Are you all right?”

Regulus quickly checked that his hood was intact and in position after the collision, before taking a moment to compose himself, smoothing some of the wrinkles out of his shirt and trying to remove all shock and annoyance from his expression.

“Quite alright, if I could just get past you I’m retrieving something from the supply closet,” he replied. The man’s brows furrowed for a second before extending a hand.

“Potter” he introduced himself. “Fleamont Potter.”

Ah that was why he’d looked familiar then. Now that Regulus had a name to put to the face the resemblance between this man and James Potter was as clear as day, their skin tone and dark curls nearly identical.

“Say,” Fleamont continued, “you look remarkably familiar son, have we met before?”

Regulus briefly and intensely internally debated whether or not to reveal that they had in fact not ever met in person before, but he was in fact the kid that had almost moved in with them a mere week ago.

“I’m not certain,” he decided. “Perhaps in passing at a school event or something of the like, my mother says I simply have one of those faces.”

Fleamont didn’t look as though he fully believed that was the reason but he didn’t push the issue and stepped aside, allowing for Regulus to step through.

“Well then, I won’t keep a young man such as yourself from a well rounded education.”

Regulus nodded, trying as hard as possible and being somewhat successful at not making eye contact as he made his way to the supply closet.

Paper finally in hand, Regulus began the walk back to McGonagall's class, a growing tightness in his chest.

Every second that passed it grew worse, harsh and burning, almost eerily similar to the feeling he got in his stomach when he hadn’t drank in three days. McGonagall was lecturing again when he entered, giving Regulus a brief head flick to her desk where he promptly set the papers.

From behind him Evan tapped on his shoulder, connecting his thumb and index finger in a silent “are you okay?” gesture. Regulus responded with a “so so” gesture of his own, turning back around in his chair.

McGonagall was a good lecturer, even if she was talking about “The Myth of Sisyphus” which Regulus firmly believed to be one of the most ridiculous philosophical books ever written. Seriously, how does someone miss the mark that bad? At least other authors had a consistent claim. But regardless, Regulus was able to at least pretend to think about something other than the impending press release for some time.

Almost nobody showed up to lunch that day, most were staying home either in anxiety, anxiety induced illness, or fear for their physical safety as their peers watched their rights get slowly ripped away.

Regulus’s grilled cheese sandwich tasted like ash in his mouth, only able to finish half of it before giving up. Mirabella looked like she might be ill and throw up at any moment, her already pale face having taken on a slight green tinge.

The news was due any minute now, every ringer that went off from someone’s phone sending waves through the assembled.

Evan was still nearly silent, voice not even close to recovered yet, Mirabella still wasn’t looking too good, so Barty was carrying most of the conversation that day.

“I hear they’ve finally located Lockhart’s replacement” he whispered faux deviously. Regulus hummed in response, taking a sip of his milk carton.

“I hear he’s some big government hotshot too,” Barty continued, “apparently he’s highly qualified but personally I think he’s some kind of a government plant sent to spy on us.”

Mirabella furrowed her eyebrows, setting her sandwich down. “Why on earth would they send anyone important here of all places, it’s literally just a random school.”

Regulus knew the answer to that one.

“Dumbledore,” he said through a mouth of apple. “They’re watching Dumbledore, the man has a reputation.”

“For what,” Mirabella questioned, “as far as I’ve heard he’s just been the headmaster here like forever.”

“He helped back in the insurrection days” Barty interjected. “They say that he was the key power that brought down Gellert Grindelwald.”

“No way,” Mirabella swore, “then why the heck did he become a headmaster? Why isn’t he in some kind of government society or something?”

Barty shrugged.

“Nobody knows, but they do-”

Every phone in the room went off at once, and everyone within it froze. Regulus reached for his phone, but the moment his fingers grazed it he pulled back.

It seemed as though many were experiencing the same problem, looking around, terrified and helpless.

After nearly a minute of tense silence Barty locked eyes with Regulus and made to reach and grab his phone, doing so when Regulus didn’t protest.

Barty knew his password already, and clicked on the most recent notification, it was from the prophet.

He read for a moment before every muscle in his body went visibly and horribly tense and Regulus’s heart dropped to his stomach.

Oh.

All it took was one sorrowful look from Barty and Regulus had to fight the urge to cry before he even saw the headline.

“In historic vampire rights case, vampire blood intake requirement has decreased and continues to do so in light of blood shortage.”

Mirabella let out a quiet sob and Evan quickly tucked her into his chest, holding back his own tears until she could no longer see them.

Regulus thought it might have been the most tragic thing he’d ever seen.

Chapter Text

Things began to change both quickly and terribly slowly.

Regulus arrived at his next transfusion anxious and with bated breath, the familiar ache of thirst creeping through his senses like a traitorous and monstrous snake whose coil only tightened around his psyche.

Nurse Margo was on duty that day, thank god, and she gave him an empathetic look as he sat down into his usual chair and she began to set up her supplies.

Per the new law the bag was 75% of its original capacity, enough to keep Regulus from going insane, but not enough to fully satiate him even directly after transfusion.

Nurse Margo stayed during the allotted waiting time that day, something atypical for the nurses, trying to make small talk that Regulus was not in the mood or state to respond effectively to.

Still, he appreciated the effort, and did his best to at least answer her questions about school and the like. Turned out that she’d met Evan at least once, recalling him as “a kind young man that she hoped to see again”.

She briefly asked about Regulus’s new scar, but didn’t pressure him to speak about it when he grew uncomfortable and warm at the mention. Regulus wasn’t certain but he was pretty sure that she could find out if she really tried, but instinctively he knew that she wouldn’t.

It was nice to be talked to nicely by adults, Regulus thought, and Nurse Margo was certainly on the top of that list.

Even by the time that Regulus got home afterwards the hunger already begun to set in. The previous minimum, aka the maximum the government was willing to provide their vampiric population with under human rights laws, was just enough to get a vamp through about three and a half days, the last day or so being spent decently hungry.

As such, the distinct decrease in starting amount meant the hunger started earlier, apparently almost immediately.

A new normal Regulus supposed.

Other things started more slowly.

The computer lab turned lunch room began to grow emptier by the day as concerned parents began to take precautions to protect their, typically on the younger side, children from worsening hatred.

There was a notable increase of that all around, Regulus knew of three who got at least mild garlic poisoning within the first week, their pained coughs reverberating through the room.

On the subject of garlic, Regulus became increasingly worried about Evan Rosier.

Evan had started to eye all food he hadn’t made himself warily, his own scar wrapping around his throat and dead voice reminders of the last time he’d blindly trusted something he ate.

As such, Barty had taken it upon himself to try at least a bite of Evan’s food before he did, doing his best to assuage Evan’s fears enough that he would eat it.

Typically this was effective, at least enough that Evan was getting enough food to get through the school day, but on other days he moved slowly, clear exhaustion setting into a now perpetually hungry body.

That was another worry of Regulus’s, and in his opinion it was only a matter of time before someone lost it. Before and at the initial passing of the law Regulus had been sure that he’d be able to handle the hunger, but he grew less and less sure the more time went on.

The doctors that had testified in front of the jury had seemed convinced that eventually the vampires would adapt to a smaller food supply after it became consistent and routine. What they’d failed to mention was that that logic didn’t apply when it came to blood.

It would always be a problem if someone didn’t have enough blood in their body, regardless of if it became normal. But apparently that didn’t matter when the person who didn’t have enough blood also happened to have fangs.
In Regulus’s opinion it was only a matter of time before something went terribly wrong. Someone would give into the hunger and begin to hunt as was their instinct, someone would grow careless and end up a pile of dust so fine it couldn’t even be buried, the tragedy was inevitable.

All Regulus could hope to do was keep it from happening to the people he cared about.

Mirabella had been taking it particularly hard, her fangs coming out subconsciously as she ate or drank anything, ruining the straw of her water bottle and nearly leaving her in more tears as it became unusable.

Barty Crouch Jr. was clearly doing his best to hold them all together as opposed to fragmenting and falling apart into disastrous pieces. He did his best to make Mirabella laugh, tucking spare flowers and knicknacks into her backpack or behind her ear to make her smile, held Regulus’s hands as they shook in sadness or in fury, tested all of Evan’s food and made sure that when he did want to speak he was heard.

Evan was arguably taking it the worst of their little group, his current state a mere echo of who he was only a week and a half ago.

Regulus could tell that his parents were doing their best, the little snacks placed lovingly into his pockets every morning clear evidence of that. Regulus could hardly fathom that kind of love, but even it wasn’t enough to do more than bring the occasional smile to Evan’s face.

Every day that passed made it seem less and less like his voice was ever going to return to normal. The doctors had told him that it was going to take time and patience to get back to normal activities, but so far there had been little sign of improvement and Regulus could tell it was wearing on his friend.

But they would make it through, Regulus had to believe that.

Sirius’s appearances in Regulus’s life strangely grew more and more frequent.

It was no longer uncommon for Regulus to be picked up by his brother after transfusions, or find him making sandwiches when he came home from school.

It was…nice.

Of course with the increase in time Sirius was actually in their house there was also a marked increase in fighting in the house, specifically between Regulus’s brother and mother.

Selfishly some part of Regulus believed that it was a fair trade, it meant he got to have his brother for a little bit longer, what harm could some measly yelled words actually do in the face of their family. It wasn’t like the fighting didn’t happen before anyways,

On this particular day Regulus was lying on his bed when there was a knock on his door.

Mother and Father never knocked so Regulus rolled over and called out, “it’s unlocked!”

Seconds later Sirius appeared in the doorway, hair EXTREMELY disheveled as though he’d just walked out of a wind tunnel. His clothes were in a similar state, typical jacket hanging halfway off of his shoulders and eyes blown wide.
“Regulus!” he gasped, looking as though he was on the verge of toppling over and passing away on Regulus’s carpet. Immediately alarm bangs began to scream in Regulus’s ears, was his brother okay? Were there wounds that he couldn’t see?

He shot up from his place on the bed with a start, scrambling over to Sirius and running his hands over the length of Sirius’s body, trying to find whatever injury had left his brother in such a state.

His hands slipped over the smooth fabric, shoving the jacket from Sirius’s shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. After a moment he had yet to find anything concerning however other than his general appearance, grabbing Sirius by the shoulders instead.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, “what happened to you?”

Sirius’s shocked expression slowly melted into a smile that had Regulus’s own cheeks wincing in sympathy. It was warm but looked as though it was involuntary.

“Brother I have found love” Sirius announced, shoving Regulus’s hands off, shutting the door behind him, and collapsing on his back onto the bed. His hands rose to cover his eyes, but the smile never lessened for a moment.

Regulus was still standing in a similar but clearly different state of shock in the center of the room, eyebrows furrowed and hands grasping at nothing.

Sirius allowed this for mere moments before jumping back up and dragging his brother back down with him, ignoring his loud sounds of protest.
“Brother, my life has been forever altered,” Sirius announced proudly. Regulus was confused enough by that point that he didn’t even make an attempt to figure out what Sirius was talking about. Luckily enough for him, his brother kept talking.

“I have found love.”

Regulus shot up into a sitting position but was immediately shoved back down down.

“Who???” he tried to ask, “what? When? Why?” As far as he knew Sirius had no desire for romance beyond occasional flings with girls he didn’t particularly care about. He’d met a few of them, but certainly none of them had ever left his brother in this sort of state.

“We’ve been dancing around it forever,” Sirius rambled, “charged moments here and there, sharing beds, all typical stuff that could just be friend stuff, so I wasn’t sure if it was intended to be romantic, but then today we talked about it and decided to make it official, and we kissed, and Regulus I don’t think I’ve ever been that happy in my entire life but-”

“Sirius” Regulus cut in, “Who are you talking about?”

Sirius flipped over to Regulus, dropping his hands to his sides, and looking at him with stars in his eyes.

“Remus” he said softly. “I kissed Remus Lupin.”

Chapter Text

For a brief moment Regulus’s mind went fully and completely blank, any initial thoughts turned to static.

Rather unfortunately, that blissful inability to understand vanished too quickly for Regulus’s liking.

He sprung up from the bed, unopposed this time as Sirius continued to lay on his bed, eyes and smile wide.

It felt as though a hurricane had taken up residence in his chest cavity as Regulus began to pace and run his fingers through his hair. Emotions flitted in and out like a revolving door, so quickly that none of them could stick for more than a second.

Nearly a full two minutes later Regulus had composed himself and calmed down enough to put words into a coherent sentence.

“Sirius what the fuck” he spluttered, finally pausing in his pacing to look at his brother in shock. Sirius’s smile waned just a little bit at that, and he furrowed his eyebrows at Regulus.

“What do you mean Reggie, this is the best thing that’s happened in years.”

That stung, but Regulus knew it wasn’t intentional, only oblivious.

“Sirius,” he began, “Mother and Father would kill you if they found out, and I’m not certain they wouldn’t literally kill you.” Sirius’s smile was entirely gone now, and he was sitting up, legs crossed childishly.

“I don’t care what they think” he declared, “Moony is worth whatever they could do to me.”

Regulus scoffed angrily, “That’s not the point brother, what do you think they would do when they found out that their oldest son, their heir, isn’t exactly the…kind to settle down and have more heirs for them.” Sirius looked angry now too.

“Those are some wild assumptions you’re making Reggie, and you should be careful where you throw them.”

“They only care about the house Sirius! The bloodline! It shouldn’t be that hard for you, it’s our family!”

“What do I owe to this house Regulus?” Sirius argued, “They’ve never done a fucking thing for me, a fucking thing for you outside literally keeping us alive.”

“That’s wildly incorrect” Regulus shot back, “why don’t you recognize that we’re different, the opportunities that we have that they gave us.”

“I don’t want them” Sirius seethed, “in fact I reject them.”

Regulus’s soul felt like it was trying to break free of its flesh cage, but none of the fear made it into his voice, only the anger.

“Then you are a fool.”

Sirius finally rose to his full height, just tall enough to make Regulus shrink away, the look on his face so full of poison that Regulus was reminded of another member of the Black family. His brother opened his mouth as if to retort, instead clenching his fists so tightly Regulus feared they may draw blood.

The moment that Sirius had left the room all the air disappeared from Regulus’s body. He clutched his chest with scrabbling hands as he gasped for breath, sinking to the floor.

His brother was going to leave, and it was all going to be Regulus’s fault.

He didn’t even care that Sirius was into men, in fact in a way it seemed like something that just made sense to him, but that didn’t change the fact that they had obligations. Obligations that they couldn’t just toss away for some boy, even if he did make Regulus’s brother the “happiest he’d ever been”.

Regulus didn’t see Sirius for a few days after that, and wasn't even certain that he had come home yet. They typically didn’t cross paths that much at school, and from what he could tell his brother was actively avoiding seeing him in the hallways.

Outside of that, the thirst was starting to get to Regulus a little more than he’d hoped it would, throat always just dry enough to be a constant annoyance.

Every so often he would catch himself looking at someone he either knew or didn’t and wondering how they would taste, how their blood would feel sucked through his fangs. Every time he caught this shame heated up his face as he tried to subtly run away, disgust flowing over his whole being.

He knew he wasn’t the only one having that problem either, Mirabella was spending a lot of time with her head down at desks, presumably avoiding seeing potential food in the first place, sweat occasionally beading on her brow.

Lunch that day was meatloaf, and for once Regulus was hungry enough that he slammed the whole thing in a mere two minutes.

Barty sat across the table, folding and unfolding a piece of paper in his hands. His fingers worried at it until Regulus could hardly stand to watch him continue.

“What’s that you’ve got there?”

Barty set the paper down flat on the desk, drawing the further attention of Evan and Mirabella who’d been conversing separately.

Regulus took in the design, the black background and blood red design.

We are the resistance. Fight back it read at the top, the next letters dripping, dripping down like the blood as it left Regulus’s face.

The Death Eaters

For as long as Regulus could remember, those words had been found only in archaic textbooks or from the mouths of cruel children on the elementary school playground. They’d come from kids that tried to push Regulus out of the shadows, tore his gloves away so that his hands would blister.

They’d outgrown those words since then, at least the ones who wanted to at least appear tolerant lest they risk future employment. Never once had Regulus seen a vamp willingly call themselves a death eater, nor could he fathom saying that about another.

“I think I’m going to go,” Evan announced suddenly. Regulus looked to him eyes wide as he continued.

“I don’t like the phrasing of it obviously, but I’ve been talking to my dad and it isn’t looking like the efforts from that end are making any progress and if they are it’s going to take time, time we don’t have.”

Regulus furrowed his brows, kneading his hands.

“This looks like some shady shit, but I think I’m going to go too” Barty announced. “I feel like I can’t do anything for you guys right now, and this might be my way to do that.”

Mira continued to stare at the table, poking at her pasta. Regulus understood feeling helpless, but there was no way in hell they would have willingly let her go to such an event even if they were there with her, it simply would have been too dangerous.

Another voice in Regulus’s head told him tha she would likely go either way, either with them or without them knowing, so it would’ve been safer to just take her anyways.

No, he couldn’t even risk that.

“I’m going to come as well” Regulus ultimately decided, “I’d rather know what’s going on then be left in the dark.”

“Alright then” Evan surmised, “we’re going as a group then?”

Barty and Regulus nodded in unison.

“Excellent,” he continued, “we meet at my house? There’s a meeting tonight, the first one, and it seems like something to get in on earlier rather than later.”

“I’ve got a transfusion this afternoon, but I can come over after” Regulus agreed, “I'd rather not skip that one.”

Evan agreed, a slight smile quirking at the side of his lips, a ghost of who he’d been three weeks ago finally making an appearance.

It was nice.

By the time Regulus left St. Mungo's anticipation was buzzing under his skin like a drug. His fangs, still slightly out, itched with a kind of longing, their meal insufficient, but just enough to keep Regulus sane.

Exhaustion from both the school day and the hospital rolled over him in waves, but Regulus was determined to continue with the plans their group had set forth, and as such, the driver took him not back to Grimmauld, but to the home of the Rosiers.

Despite never having seen or been to the place, it looked exactly how Regulus would have imagined it.

The exterior was a pale blue, the trimmings a soft cream color that contrasted harshly to the surrounding houses. As far as Regulus could tell all of the curtains were drawn shut, a side effect of actually caring about the wellbeing of your vampiric child he supposed.

But all in all, it looked like more of a home than any that Regulus had ever been to.

A single knock on the door had it swinging open to reveal a tall man with dark curls extremely similar to his son's, absolutely towering over Regulus with a wide smile.

“You must be Regulus!” the man boomed. “We’ve heard so many good things about you, come in come in!”

As Regulus entered the house he clocked the sheer comfort that the Rosier’s were living in. More blankets than he’d ever seen in his life were draped over the back and sides of every feasible surface, the walls littered with family photos of Evan, his father, and a smaller ginger woman who Regulus assumed was Mrs. Rosier.

Feet pattering down a wood stairwell announced Evan’s presence, dark green hood pulled over his face as a precaution, immediately falling back once he realized the downstairs was entirely artificially lit for the moment.

Barty arrived a handful of minutes later, dressed nondescript in a black hoodie that managed to cover most of his face. Regulus had been uncertain if he should cover his own face, the scar made him extremely memorable for most people, the same logic applied to Evan, but in the end he realized he hardly cared.

So no mask it was.

Chapter Text

They left from the house within the hour in Barty’s car, the drive taking them through a combination of back routes Regulus was entirely unaware of and strange looking forests.

The house they finally pulled to a stop in front of barely seemed to qualify as a house at all. It consisted of two tall spires wrapped in dark trim, the main box structure in actuality a multisided blob of bricks.

There were other cars scarcely dotting areas around the ground, no obvious rhyme or reason to them, to the point where Regulus wasn’t certain if there was even a pattern to begin with. Barty barely hesitated before pulling to a stop in front of a rosebush and pulling the keys from the ignition.

Others began to emerge from their vehicles, the majority wearing dark robes that covered them from neck to at least the knees, most to their wickedly shining shoes. Ivory masks carved in intricate designs concealed some of their faces, hair their only distinguishing feature. Others carried themselves with a kind of assurance, chins jutted outwards as if daring someone to report them to the authorities.

Most surprisingly however, very few of the individuals carried the kind of pale hollow skin associated with vampirism.

Regulus grew almost self conscious of his own papery skin, and he noticed Evan frowning similarly.

There were some clear groups, mostly of people who had arrived together, people that looked similar enough to be related, as well as those who looked to be polar opposites that embraced each other tightly, laughing as if being reunited after a long time spent apart.

Eventually they could no longer hide, the listed start time was approaching, and Regulus wanted to at least gain knowledge of where the exits were.

The night air was chilly, cutting through Regulus’s thin jacket, wind sweeping through his skeleton like a radiator. A dark red bandana concealed the lower half of his face, more importantly his scar. He wasn’t overly concerned, but Barty had handed them over to his friends, insisting that it would mark them as a group.

Regulus wasn’t super excited about it, but it was worth Barty’s peace of mind.

The door creaked as it opened, revealing a large dome chamber that was deceptively small looking from the outside. Seventy-five people or so were milling about, conversing with each other, sipping from glasses, or standing by their lonesome.

Regulus clocked the exits exactly as he had intended to do, meaning the one exit, meaning the one door he had just come in through.

The walls were entirely devoid of windows, covered in a strange red wallpaper that Regulus thought might come away wet if he touched it. A central carpet running led up a set of marble stairs, disappearing into two diverging wings.

“This place is huge,” Barty whispered, “who on earth lives here?”

“Tom Marvolo Riddle” an unfamiliar voice cut in. Regulus looked over to see a man, probably a handful of years older than him, with extremely pale skin and hair so light it almost made him look ghostly.

“Lucius!” Barty delighted, “I was wondering if we were going to see you!” He turned back towards Evan and Regulus, slinging an arm around the now disgruntled looking man.

“This is Lucius Malfoy, the reason I knew how to get here!” he announced, a little bit too loudly. Lucius made a shushing noise, lightly shoving the arm off of him and straightening himself back up.

“Yes, pleasure to meet you,” he said. Something about his voice, slithery and languid, sent shivers down Regulus’s spine but he did his best to ignore it as he held out his hand. Lucius regarded it for a moment before firmly shaking it.

“Regulus Black.” Lucius nodded.

“Yes yes, I’ve engaged with your family a few times over the years, though I will admit this is the first time we’ve met directly.”

Regulus raised one eyebrow. He wasn’t entirely surprised but he liked to think that he recognized most of the families in his parent’s circle at least by face. Oh well then.

Barty attempted to socialize with a few other people with varying degrees of success before the room began to finally settle into a clear order. Those with masks filed to the front, chests high, empty eyes looking to the peak of the stairs, those without falling to the back, leaning in and out of the shadows like ghostly phantoms.

Regulus leaned against an arch in the back, arms crossed and shoulders tense. He truly had no idea what this would entail, so he’d taken the closest open spot to the door as possible without looking like he was going to run at any moment.

The murmurs soon died down to hushed whispers then eventually to silence. The attendees remained there, silent, for long enough that Regulus shot concerned glances to his friends who returned them equally.

Just as Regulus was about to suggest they make their escape, it was getting a little too creepy even for him, the room was plunged into near complete darkness, the only hazy light emitting from the carved masks at the front of the chamber.

When the lights returned it was with a different hue then before, now a dark red reminiscent of fresh blood.

All eyes swung upwards as a man began to descend the stairs. Gauzy black fabric hung from his chest, arms, and legs, trailing behind him giving the effect that the man was floating down the stairs, a sharp metal cane clutched in one hand.

He wore no hood, dark curls perfectly arranged, peeking out from behind the most intricate mask Regulus had seen yet.

It was the same shape, oval with cut holes for the eyes, but the amount of engravings gave the impression that the mask depicted a face, sharp cheekbones giving way to soft lips.

Tension rose in the room to where it was almost palpable, the sheer power radiating off of the man was enough to erase all plans of escape, freezing everyone in their shoes.

Awe, respect, and fear all warred for their place as Regulus stared. He’d never seen someone command a space in such a way, much less over the people inside of it. All of these, however, fell away alongside the man’s mask.

Beautiful was the only way Regulus could have potentially articulated it. This man was horrifyingly beautiful.

Pale skin, nearly as pale as his own, held a sharp contrast with soft brown eyes that seemed to look straight through Regulus’s soul, like he was looking through him specifically. Like he was special.

His voice was deep and smooth, surprisingly young sounding, as he raised his hands.

“My friends!” he boomed, “tonight we have come together in order to serve our greater cause, our collective cause!” he surveyed the room critically, eyebrows furrowed in determination.

“In the past month, our vampire brethren, my people, have faced tragedy unheard of in the past several decades.” He dropped his hands to his sides, almost hopelessly.

“I am tired, my friends!” he cried, “I am tired of what they do to us, what they will continue to do if left unchecked!”

“However!” he continued, all desperation turned into raw animosity, “I know that we have the power among us to bring justice back, to return ourselves not just to dignity, but to glory!”

A sound like rattling bones filled the room and it took Regulus a moment to realize that all those holding masks held small keychain like objects, pale white bones clacking together in a horrible symphony.

Regulus felt energy pumping through his veins at a strength he could never recall having felt before.

“Brothers, sisters!” the man shouted, “join me in this endeavor, lend me your talents, lend me your strength, lend me your blood!” his cane slammed into the floor, echoing throughout the chamber.

“We will suceed!” he demanded, “and we will rise above!”

The sound of the rattlin bones grew almost deafening. Nothing existed here, nor in the world, outside of this dark mansion in the woods, nothing outside of this man and his goals.

And in this moment Regulus knew that he was not looking at a man,

He was looking at a god.

Chapter Text

Regulus tried and failed to stop re-running the night's events over and over again as he tried to fall asleep, admittedly much later, that night.

The ivory masks, the rattling bones, the red light so deep it nearly became oppressive. And more so than any of those things, the man that had brought them all together. Tom Marvolo Riddle as far as he could gather.

Lucius had confirmed this when they spoke to him after the conclusion of the speech, Riddle was both the leader of the Death Eaters as well as the owner of the state at which the group was based.

Regulus had tried internet searching the man the moment he’d arrived back at Grimmauld, but the only things he could find were a couple old pictures of a boy who looked so wildly dissimilar to the one he had encountered that he waived them away with little thought.

No school records, no mentions on any websites, the man was about as close to a virtual ghost as you could get without being from before the tech’s invention.

Regardless of this however, he permeated Regulus’s consciousness every second in the following hours, as well as into the next day.

“He was so…woah.”

Barty and Regulus entered the computer lab, trays in hand as they conversed. Regulus paused a moment before responding.

“I’m still struggling to process it if I’m being entirely honest,” he admitted. “It was so…much.”

They set their trays down onto the table, pulling out their chairs to sit.

“That’s true, but it made me feel like I could do something.” Barty fiddled with his fork.

“It’s been awful these past weeks, obviously not as bad as it is for you, Ev, and Mina, but it feels like I’ve been sitting here helplessly and just letting it get worse, and Regulus that SUCKS”

Regulus’s heart panged in sympathy. Barty’s fists were tight, his hair falling over his eyes.

“When I heard Riddle last night, it felt like there was finally a course of action, something that I could do to help things not be so horrific for you guys.” He looked up, hopelessness now mixed with a fierce, protective determination.

“I think I’m going to keep going to those meetings, Regulus,” he announced. “I’m done watching.”

For the first time in a while it felt like some of Barty’s determination passed over to Regulus, holding out his hand and smiling when the other grasped it tightly. It was nice to have something that at least felt real, even if it didn’t last.

Regulus’s life assumed somewhat of a regular pattern after that, normal things like school, transfusions, and the like, but also new things, energetically hushed conversations in the dark of the computer lab, meetings in the dark of the manner of the woods, the crashing of the bones becoming akin to the sound of church bells.

Walburga and Orion Black had continued to take leaves of absence, some a singular day others stretching for nearly a week before the car inexplicably pulled up into the driveway.

For Regulus that meant that he could keep all the curtains closed downstairs the entire day, Sirius didn’t open them when Regulus closed them, and he was certainly enjoying the newfound freedom.

On occasion he would leave a small beam of light coming through and imagine what it would be like to enter it. He remembered the burning, the acid-like steam, but he wondered what it was like to feel its warmth.

He’d once asked Barty to describe it to him, the other boy momentarily pausing eating to collect his thoughts.

“It’s like being hugged,” he’d decided, “it’s like the sun is giving you a hug but it’s your entire body at once.”

Regulus longed to feel that warmth someday, even if he knew that was impossible.

Sirius had once walked in on a moment of weakness where Regulus had convinced himself that the small burn would be worth it, walked in on him reaching out to touch the solitary sunbeam.

Sirius had quickly rushed over and grabbed Regulus’s hand out of the way before closing the curtains entirely, plunging them back into complete darkness.
His face had been tight with a combination of concern and horror, and while he said nothing, his eyes never left Regulus as he turned on the overhead lights.

Regulus pushed down the bitter disappointment that rose in his throat, pulling his sweater sleeves back down to his wrists. He’d wanted to feel it, just for a moment.

The shame wouldn’t set in for another few hours, and once he realized what he’d almost done he was even more ashamed that he barely felt bad about it, more out of emotional distress caused to his brother.

The blanket's soft texture, pulled over Regulus’s head eased those thoughts; however, if he couldn’t feel the warmth of the real world, then he’d settle for the kind he could possess.

Sirius kept a close eye on Regulus after that, little cinching clips appearing on the curtains to add an extra step in pulling them open.

On one of Mother and Father’s longer trips to god knows where James Potter began appearing within their residence as well.

The first time had been a shock to nearly everyone involved. James had never come further than the mailbox previously, Regulus knew that Sirius did his best to keep his friends and family separate as much as possible and he didn’t blame him for it.

Regulus had heard the murmuring of voices downstairs, automatically assuming that it meant Mother and Father had returned, they should have been sometime within the following few days, but when he peered down from the top of the stairs he was instead met with bronze skin and a blinding smile.

“Hi Regulus, I was looking for Sirius and your front door was unlocked, would you happen to know where he might be?”

Regulus just stared for a moment.

“You…”, he hesitated, “you broke in?”

James shrugged as if he’d done nothing out of the ordinary, not assuaging Regulus’s concerns that he’d done this before and Regulus simply hadn’t known about it, removing his jacket from his shoulders and hanging it on an empty hook.

It was a strange pop of crimson in the dark room, something that so clearly didn’t belong within the house of Black.

“Breaking in is relative,” James argued, “your front door was unlocked, I was technically invited, so is it really breaking and entering?”

“Yes?”

“Semantics.”

Regulus probed his temples to soothe the oncoming headache he was surely about to be experiencing from the sheer level of stupidity.

“Do you know where your brother is?” James asked again, bouncing on his heels, “he’s not answering his phone.”

At that very moment Sirius popped up over Regulus’s shoulder, nearly sending him down the stairs in shock.

Annoyance simmered near the surface as Regulus pointed his finger to James, looking Sirius directly in the eyes.

“He broke in.”

“We just went over this Reg!” James protested, “Sirius I did not break in, I just walked in!”

Regulus's heart stuttered momentarily but Sirius raised an eyebrow, gesturing for James to come up the stairs and follow him. He did, nudging Regulus in the shoulder teasingly as he passed by.

Regulus didn’t retaliate, just glared, but it honestly wasn’t terrible to have some humor in the house for once.

Of course if Mother and Father found out that one of Sirius’s hooligan friends had visited or god forbid stay the night as the bag slung over James’s shoulder suggested it would be his own funeral.

James, however, was likely the least inflammatory of the group, his parents decently well known in society and manners never less than impeccable when interacting with high class adults like Walburga and Orion Black.

Regulus would never admit it of course, but he did rather enjoy James’s visit. Wouldn't even complain if he came again. (He did.)

Chapter Text

The next meeting was similar to the first.

They’d all piled into Barty’s breaking down sedan, twisting and turning down ancient seeming country roads until the house had come into sight.

The windows reflected the full moon, a shiver of anticipation running down Regulus’s spine. He’d waited weeks for this, another chance to see him, to see Tom Marvolo Riddle .

Those eyes had blinked at him compassionately in his dreams more times than he could count, the coy smile nothing less than addictive. His name had slowly permeated the computer room, though Regulus was uncertain if any of his fellow vamps had been able to find an invitation to the actual meetings.

Half of him hoped they hadn’t, that he was one of the special ones who got to be a part of the change, not merely one of the suffering masses. He wanted to feel the power that came with that forbidden word, revolution , more delicious than any kind of transfusion.

Every so often he felt shame for this train of thought, the kids didn’t deserve to be hopeless as the constant stream of bad news encouraged them to be, but he told himself that there was hardly anything they could do anyways, they didn’t have the higher class connections of him, Barty, or Evan.

They merely had to live with it.

Barty had managed to procure them better masks this time, the world growing ever narrower as the ceramic mask slipped over Regulus’s face. It left holes for their eyes, but other than that the only identifiable parts of Barty and Evan were their eyes and hair, curls dripping across ghostly foreheads.

Speaking of ghosts, the other members of the congregation had begun to enter the house. The three teenage boys were certainly out of place amongst dark silks flowing softly in the breeze, but the masks secured their relative anonymity and that was the important part.

Regulus glanced about briefly for any sign of Lucius Malfoy, but there was certainly more than one long haired blonde in the crowd. He wouldn’t say he was relieved, but that wasn’t far from the truth.

The interior was the same as before as well, the archways dark and looming, the blood red stained glass glowing in the moonlight.

Barty tugged upon Regulus’s sleeve to get his attention. Regulus looked over to where his friend was gesturing to see Tom Marvolo Riddle conversing with masked figures.

His face was carefully set, no apparent tension, the only indication of any kind of emotion was the slight clench of a muscle in his jaw every so often.

Barty pulled Evan through the crowd, issuing polite apologies when he made contact with objects of the flesh persuasion.

Regulus was frozen for a second before trying to weave after them. They were quickly making their way over to Riddle and associates and it was all Regulus could do to keep up.

Riddle’s eyes flitted over, some indiscernible cross between interest and disdain instantly replaced with harsh appraisal.

The two masks at his side made their quick excuses before leaving to converse with others, leaving Regulus, Barty, and Evan alone in their interaction.

“Hello there,” Riddle started, the richness of his voice more intense than Reglus had remembered it. “Some new faces to the movement I assume? I hadn’t realized we’d expanded to children but I suppose that the new generation has to come from somewhere.”

Regulus bit back a rather childish remark about how they were hardly children, but in the face of such power they clearly were. Instead he diplomatically held out his hand to shake.

“Regulus Black sir.” he introduced, “As well as Evan Rosier and Barty Crouch.” Wistfully he wondered if he shouldn’t have given their real or full names but alas.

The small smile from Riddle was worth it, as he firmly shook Regulus’s hand. It was warm, burning almost.
“How have you found the congregation thus far?”Riddle asked, “Inspiring I hope?”

Evan nodded sincerely, “Very much so sir, we deeply respect and appreciate what you’re doing for our people?”

“Our people?...” Riddle questioned lightly.

“Vampires” Evan clarified, “We attended the last meeting as well and it was like a light in the darkness for Regulus and I.”

Riddle’s expression shuttered for an instant before the smile was back.

“Of course, it is of the utmost importance that our people receive the respect that we deserve, after all it was ours to begin with, is it not our right to take it back?”

Regulus barely had to search his brain before he came up with what Riddle was referencing. Vamp history was riddled with theories of where the Vamps had come from.

Some blamed some freak accident back in the ancient days, they hadn’t found any archaeological evidence of them previous to Ancient Greece before the last few decades. After that they’d found some thousands of year old jaws that showed signs of fangs, that particular scientist being met with strong backlash over the discovery.

It was especially hard to pinpoint an origin because the gene skipped all over family lines like it was a joke. It was entirely possible for two vamps (that miraculously survived to adulthood) to have a completely human child, as well as the vice versa in Regulus’s situation. That was definitely the more common experience, 98% of Vamp births happened with two human parents.

Probably didn’t help that most Vamps didn’t make it until the age of 10, taken out in some dusting accident, someone usually forgot to close the curtains, or nursery maids forgot to remove garlic from their cooking for a particular child, things like that. Accidents.

The survival rate for them went up significantly if they survived elementary school, up to a whole 40%.

But Regulus digressed.

Of course with increased research into the topic, it became startlingly clear just how many powerful people had secretly been Vamps. Kings, Queens, Lords, the books were littered with people who had potentially been keeping their lands and territories under their control with more than just traditional scare tactics.

There wasn’t any concrete evidence about if Vamps could or could ever have enthralled other humans in that way, but the possibility of it certainly didn’t help modern Vamps’ social image.

The discovery of powerful historical confirmed vampires had given rise to the quite taboo and dangerous idea that Vamps were somehow genetically superior to regular humans, and that since they’d held power over the populace in the past, why shouldn’t they have it again? Was it not their purpose?

Regulus personally had always thought that this was ridiculous especially in the modern day, medical dependency and social ostracization made it hard to believe that the likely fictional concept of enthrallment was worth everything that came with it.

He’d said this once to Barty who’d hesitantly agreed, clearly uncomfortable.

But all of that logic shook as Tom Riddle’s eyes pierced through Regulus. He of course agreed that Vamps deserved respect, anyone who wasn’t a fool (and there were a surprising amount of fools) could easily recognize that Vamps were and had always been taken advantage of.

Righteous anger flickered in Riddle and Regulus would have been remiss to say that it didn’t burn in him as well.

“We’d like to do what we can sir,” Regulus finally decided on, “we want what we deserve.”

Respect most of him chimed in, revenge chimed the rest.

Riddle’s smile widened into a maddened grin.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Chapter Text

Aside from their interaction with Riddle the second meeting was almost identical to the first.

The crowd was noticeably a little larger than before once the night was in full swing, Regulus, Evan, and Barty sticking around after the speech whereas they hadn’t done so the first time.

The energy they’d gone home with the first time, crushing into their overwhelmed brains instead flowed thick and heavy like syrup amongst a newly reinvigorated crowd.

Nobody who knew Regulus Arcturus Black would say he was prone to bouts of whimsy, but for once he felt drunk on it. Laughter would have been an overstatement but masked voices carried smiles and camaraderie nonetheless.

Drinks couldn’t be passed for obvious reasons, but some lifted their masks slightly to consume some kind of snack or another, some revealing the unearthly pale skin of a Vamp.

The now constant pang of hunger twanged in Regulus’s throat, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Why should he worry about his thirst when he finally felt full?
He didn’t know if it was even that there was a Vamp like him running such a massive operation, or just that it was Riddle.

Riddle was the only person who was unmasked so whenever he socialized around the room he was always the center of attention. In his tightly cut black suit with brown curls framing his deathly pale skin he definitely stood out.

Regulus wondered how many of the others who were masked were hiding a similar complexion.

Statistically speaking .5% of the population was born vampiric, but only .1% of the population consisted of vamps who survived to adulthood, and there didn’t seem to be any kids roaming around in the room.

Based on those metrics it was entirely possible that Regulus and Evan were the only Vamps in the room, but the fact that it was a Vamp centered social movement suggested that there should be more than that.

Regulus at least hoped that more of them were Vamps than he thought.

He loved his computer lab kids, he really did, but seeing Vamps that against all odds survived to adulthood to fight for their younger counterparts inspired a lot more confidence than kids who were constantly fighting garlic reactions and classmates led dusting attempts on the way to math class.

It then clicked that that was probably the reason for the robes and masks. Upon closer inspection they covered every exposed inch of skin that Regulus could see, meaning it probably worked about as well as his own coverage gear did.

He hadn’t brought any of it, they’d left after the sun went down and would return long before it came up, but he suddenly wanted to compare notes with these elders who had so much more life experience.

He wanted to know what they knew.

Inevitably the night had to end, but as it drew to a close there was no question that it had been well spent.

Mirabella was already waiting for them when they arrived at lunch the next day.

“You’re early,” Evan commented, “Flitwick really that boring today?”

Mirabella rolled her eyes.

“No, he just let us out early for once. Model students.”

Regulus hummed disbelievingly but before he could call her bluff Barty pulled out his chair, producing a horrific screeching noise that caused everyone in the room to shrink and cover their ears.

“God GOD” Evan complained, “Must you?”

Barty sat down and began to eat, zero remorse on his face.

“Yes.”

Regulus rolled his eyes and pulled out his own chair, picking it up first like a considerate human being before sitting down next to Mirabella.

The cafeteria was serving chicken noodles today, a fairly low garlic risk so hopefully Evan would eat it without too much anxiety, and besides that it was one of Regulus’s favorites.

Sure enough after Barty’s customary garlic test they set upon it like wolves. Lunch this semester was decently late in the day, so Regulus and Evan were hungry beyond just their now normal experiences.

Regulus had a transfusion later, but he hardly cared. Nurse Margo had somewhat cemented herself as the one who was there at the same time as Regulus, he suspected she did this intentionally, but he was rather fond of her and always appreciated her ability to crack jokes about almost everything.

“Did anyone see the newest 911 last night?” Mirabella asked, “I can’t believe they’d kill one of the main characters and for what! Bullshit.”

Evan chided her lightly, “Language and SPOILERS young lady, speak no more of it and perhaps he may be resurrected.”

“He better be,” Mirabella muttered darkly, “or Tim Minnear is going to have something else coming for him.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow but didn’t pay it any mind. For one thing he’d never actually seen the show that Mirabella and Barty loved so much and another thing Mirabella would sooner shrivel up and die on the spot than cause intentional harm to any kind of lifeform much less a person.

Recently she’d attempted to go vegetarian but she’d quickly realized that she needed way more iron and protein than she was getting so that particular phase ended pretty quickly.

“Can I come with you guys next time?” she asked then, “to those meetings you guys keep going to?”

Regulus had to fight to not choke on his noodles. Evan was not so successful.

“What”, intense coughing, “are you talking about?”

It was Mirabella’s turn to look annoyed.

“How stupid do you boys think I am? We’ve all seen the posters, and you’ve all been scampering about like little conspirator mice for the past month, it doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes and Watson to figure out why.”

She was right, Regulus realized. He had expected her to put it together eventually, but he thought he might get the chance to tell her.

“You can’t come.” he decided aloud. “It’s too dangerous for a kid to be there, especially you.”

She looked scandalized. “You’re all just kids too, why is it different for you?”

“We’re older kids,” Evan added, “ones that aren’t twelve and can actually hit the ground with our feet when we sit in chairs.”

“That’s such nonsense,” Mirabella argued, “You think it’s easy to watch you guys leave from here and know that you don’t trust me enough to help improve all of our lives? Barty isn’t even a vamp and you take him!”

Regulus softened, just a bit. Uncharacteristically he reached over and held Mirabella’s hand, her eyes widening a little bit but holding his hand back.

“Mira,” he used her nickname, “it isn’t that we don’t trust you, it isn’t that at all , we just want to keep you safe.” He rubbed her palm with his thumb.

“There’s a lot of people at this thing that we don’t know, like powerful older people, and at least we’re teenage boys , we have no idea how having a younger girl would go over.”

Tears shone in dark eyes.

“I just want to help.” she whispered darkly, pathetically. “I’m so tired

Regulus let go of her hand as Evan reached over to envelop her in a hug.

“It’s going to be okay Bella.”

“You can’t promise that.” she muttered, muffled against his chest. Evan brushed his fingers through her hair. With a pang in his heart Regulus realized it reminded him a little of himself and Sirius when they were younger.

“No,” Evan continued, “but I can promise that I’ll do whatever I can to make it easier.”

Regulus looked on at them, heart simultaneously warming and breaking into smaller pieces as they clutched each other.

It was heartbreaking that they were driven to this, teenagers taking care of teenagers. Regulus wished he could throttle those lawmakers, rip them apart until the blood he was so hungry for dripped from their bodies like wells.

He so wished that Mirabella wasn’t scared, that Evan wasn’t so clearly terrified all the time.

Riddle was trying to fix this Regulus remembered. He was trying to make it so Mirabella didn’t have to cry anymore, that none of them had to cry anymore.

Regulus wanted that, he wanted it so bad.

And he was getting really fucking tired of being hungry.

Chapter Text

The next meeting Regulus walked in with a purpose.

Like before they hadn’t managed to procure robes to fully blend in but he’d traced careful intricate lines and dots onto his mask in order to be taken more seriously.

Silver painted rivers flowed along his jawline, constellations dotting his cheekbones.

“Beautiful.” Evan had remarked when he’d seen it.

“Handsome.” Regulus had corrected.

“No,” Evan had continued, “Handsome isn’t this. You look beautiful.”

“Dangerous.” Barty had added finally, the car falling into silence.

Regulus remained tense through the service, the church bell sounds of the rattling bones the only thing keeping Regulus from imploding where he stood.

When the room finally dissolved into conversation, bright and sporadic, Regulus locked his eyes onto Riddle, chatting up an individual with curly dark hair, beelining his way through the crowd.

Riddle cracked a small smile as they made eye contact, raising a hand in greeting. He turned away from the woman slightly, giving the majority of his attention to Regulus.

“Ah Regulus!” he greeted cheerfully, “have you met Bella here? She has wonderful thoughts on the subject of biological experimentation, truly revolutionary.”

A feeling in his gut told him that he probably did in fact know “Bella”, but the cold porcelain of her face gave nothing away. Likely some distant cousin or something of the like.

Bad news regardless, and an excellent person to know.

“Lovely to meet you.” he offered his hand, which she took, sharp nails cutting into the flesh of his palm.

“Charmed.” Everything about this woman screamed danger, and it took everything Regulus had to not drop her hand and run.

Yes, he most certainly was related to her, only members of House Black could impose such a feeling upon him.

Riddle cocked an eyebrow as his eyes roamed up and down Regulus taking in his body language before returning to the woman.

“Bella,” he kissed the back of her hand tenderly, “if you don’t mind my sweet it seems dear Regulus needs to have a word with me in private.”

Bella turned her chin up at Regulus but she left with little complaint, moving on to another masked fellow who pulled her to his side protectively.

Riddle jerked his own chin in the direction of the staircase before walking nonchalantly over, Regulus following as if on a leash.

Eventually Riddle stopped, placing a hand on each of Regulus’s shoulders.

“Tell me,” he offered, “what troubles you.”

Regulus steeled himself before he spoke.

“I’m done waiting,” he announced, “I want to do more.”

Tom Riddle's face creased, deep with concern as his grip on Regulus tightened.

“What do you mean child, does this not feel fulfilling to you?”

Regulus felt the fire in his belly reignite once more.

“No it doesn’t.” He tried to keep the rage, his helplessness and hunger, from seeping from his voice but he was largely unsuccessful.

“I’m tired of just watching and waiting for something to happen, a movement has to take action .”

Riddle paused on that for a moment.

“What action do you suggest we take then?”

“Rally support with the youth.” Regulus thought aloud, “you need people who have the time and energy to put forth their hearts and souls for each other.”

“Like you, and the young Rosier and Crouch?” Riddle questioned, not disbelievingly. Regulus responded without hesitation.

“Yes.”

Riddle dropped his hands from Regulus’s shoulders, brushing them against his pant legs.

“I will ponder on this Regulus and I cannot emphasize enough how much I value you bringing this to me, I will not forget it.”

Regulus nodded, peeking over his shoulder to see Barty and Evan not subtly watching the entire interaction.

Riddle followed his gaze chuckling lightly at the display.

“Keep them around Regulus,” he advised, “loyalty like that doesn't come around every day, and loyalty is the most important thing you can have.”

Regulus didn’t reply but Riddle nudged him slightly back towards his friends.

“Go speak with them” he encouraged humorously, “socialize and get to know people, it's good for you.”

Regulus fought the habitual urge to roll his eyes but he followed the suggestion wordlessley, Barty and Evan clapping him heartily on the shoulder.

Regulus shoved them off immediately but there was no annoyance in it.

Riddle had taken him seriously, and had genuinely listened to him. Regulus felt important, valued.

And that felt really fucking good.

“What were you talking to Riddle about?” Evan asked excitedly, “you looked so serious and important!”

“Nothing much,” Regulus fake shrugged, “just giving suggestions to Riddle that he-” he lifted his hands to show the air quotes- “greatly valued.”

Evan broke into a wide smile visible under his half mask, like the sun exploding from a human being.

“That’s fantastic!”

Barty pushed him into Evan playfully.

“Look at our son Evan, he’s moving up in the world!”

Regulus laughed, carefree and simultaneously aware of the looks they were getting from the rest of the room. There were no facial expressions available to interpret so Regulus decided for once they were irrelevant.

They chattered happily for a few more minutes, teetering between serious and teasing like a low stakes tightrope, occasionally locking in to speak to an adult when they were approached.

The second said adults would leave the three would conquer their urge to laugh, and it was certainly laughable, Regulus Black, Barty Crouch, and Evan Rosier being people that other people wanted to know.

Regulus had never done any hard substances but he imagined it was something like this. Each new conversation was like a new hit, sending fire through his veins that he never wanted to cool.

The following days saw Regulus slowly beginning to seed Riddle’s cause into his fellow Vamps, an occasional comment, a hint that Regulus himself was involved in the revolution in some way here or there, and good god did it spread.

The Vamps were desperate for something to fight for, and Regulus was happy to give it to them.

Regulus waited for any sign of Riddle, but much as he expected nothing came. Riddle’d never reached out before, and there was no reason to expect he would this time. Regulus did wish he would have though.

Evan sat on a computer lab chair, Mirabella leaning against his legs on the floor. The boy absentmindedly combed through her smooth dark hair, braiding parts and unbraiding them over and over.

Mirabella herself pored over some math homework that Barty was trying to help with, also sitting cross legged on the floor.

Every so often Regulus looked up as Evan clicked against his teeth as he struggled to untangle some small knot that he’d likely created, but overall the room was quiet. It was after school this time, so they were the only ones there.

Regulus turned back to his literature book, this time Parable of the Sower, savoring the feeling of the plasticky annotation tabs against his fingers. He did like this one better, especially more than Dracula and Barty’s #1 enemy, Wuthering Heights.

Lauren was strange, and her hyperempathy definitely made things hard for her even as the world got worse, but regardless of that she brought people together for a purpose. She’d created a home for people who would’ve likely been killed by the world otherwise, including herself.

McGonagall wanted them to be finished reading the book itself within the next week so that they could start discussing it in class the following week, but Regulus was nearly finished. He really hoped it had a happy ending like the others.

Mirabella hissed under her breath as Evan pulled particularly hard, hands reaching up to grab his before they could continue.

“Hold on, I've got it,” she muttered. Evan placed her hands where the knot was, amusement creeping into Regulus’s face as he watched his friend grow more and more perplexed as Mirabella worked her magic. Finally she dropped the hair, falling silky and smooth and more importantly untangled to the small of her back.

“There you go,” she said.

“Witch,” Evan muttered under his breath. Barty chuckled from the floor.

“Someone clearly doesn’t have sisters,” he chided humorously.

“Yeah no,” Evan countered, “some of our sisters would cuss us or bite us into next year if we touched their hair.”

Regulus paused his reading.

“You have a sister?” he asked, genuinely confused. He didn’t remember Evan ever mentioning a sister, or anyone else living with him besides his parents from his very occasional visits to the Rosier house.

“Twin sister,” Evan agreed, “Pandora.”

Barty and Mirabella twisted around so they were all facing each other.

“And where is Pandora? I don’t think we go to school with a Pandora, much less a Pandora Rosier.”

“You don’t,” Evan confirmed again, “she goes to school in England, boarding school.”

Regulus fully put Parable of the Sower away at that point.

“Is she..” he gestured helplessly with his hands. Having two Vamps within the same family was rare, but supposedly the chance was a lot higher with twins, something about more similarities with their DNA, but Evan shook his head.

“No, she’s not a Vamp.” There was no bitterness or jealousy to his tone, but there was a tinge of wistfulness.

“You miss her,” Regulus realized, “like a lot.”

Evan’s hands dropped Mirabella’s hair, retracting to hold his sides.

“She doesn’t need to be involved in this.”

Barty leaned over, grabbing Evan’s hand and rubbing it between his fingers.

“Hey man, it’s okay to miss her you know,” Barty’s voice remained soft, laced with warmth and care. Evan’s response was not.

“Stop.”

The group fell silent, the chilly kind not the warm kind, where nobody wanted to be the first to speak for fear that whatever they said would be the wrong thing to say.

Evan's head fell to his hands in clear exasperation.

“Yes I do miss her, a fucking lot, but it doesn’t do me a lot of good to think oh what if the most important person in my life was here and not 2000 miles away now does it.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Barty agreed, “just trying to be helpful mate.”

“Yes I know, I just get more upset about it the more I think about it,” Evan admitted, “and I cannot deal with a whole lot more upset right now before I lose my actual fucking mind.”

Regulus could definitely get on board with that, while the last few weeks had been a marked improvement emotionally, nothing had physically improved for the Vamps and he himself was about one bad day away from becoming some kind of statistic.