Chapter Text
Arcturus Black’s dinner table was long and intimidating. He sat at the head of it, the elder man looking down at what he had moulded the inner Black family to be with a constant air of vague disappointment and a rare smile. Each person had their own seat, it never changed, and no one was permitted to miss one of his dinners no matter the commitment. You sat in the chairs made with plush velvet for comfort with a fearful straight back and swallowed the Michelin star food with a lump in your throat and you didn’t complain because that was the Black way.
The dining room was where the portraits hung. The walls were lined with formidable photographs of their family members at the peak of their careers holding Oscars, smiling by their star on the Hollywood walk of fame, even shaking hands with the Queen of England. A hall of legacy watching the next generation eat with interested pressure. If you were trying so hard to avoid your family’s eyes, sometimes you could catch the portraits staring with a relieved glee that they weren’t in that position anymore.
Dinner had been quiet at first, Cygnus, Walburga and Arcturus discussing family matters while Orion and Druella were pushed to idle gossip. Arcturus kept business to a limited few. His three children, Walburga, Cygnus and Alphard (no matter how disgraced the latter was) were the only ones who truly knew the inner workings of the Blacks. Tight lips and cutting looks held those secrets safely. His cousin Pollux’s grandson Orion, despite being a patriarch, was as much in the dark as Cygnus’s new wife.
The whispering of the adults left the cousins fruitfully unattended.Sirius sat beside Regulus, focused on discreetly taking the tomatoes from his salad so his little brother didn’t have to eat them. Andromeda and Bellatrix were watching each other in silent conversation, mirthful eyes and constrained smiles, and Narcissa just tried to eat as quickly as she could so she could be excused. Regulus vaguely remembered Sirius telling him his friend from his music class said his family dinners weren’t like this. That his dinners were full of rapid overlapping conversations and spilled drinks and second helpings and laughter. Regulus was convinced he was lying.
Once Arcturus was satisfied that his children were maintaining their name as they should be, he set his glass down with a full thud that commanded the attention of the room. He started his usual interrogation, pressing his grandchildren on how they were forwarding their careers (despite their age) and pushing to be on that wall .He skipped Bella ( the two of them worked on her manuscripts together and the bruises Andy found on her suggested she was aware of his criticisms ) and picked at Andromeda’s painting progress and asked Druella about Narcissa’s ballet. Sirius reported back on his instrument lessons with his Uncle Alphard dutifully and he pinched his little brother under the table to ensure he was paying attention for when Arcturus’s focus was pulled to him.
“And you, Regulus?” he asked in a voice a shade softer than he had used with the others. Walburga nodded encouragingly as the room’s eyes turned to him, but when Regulus couldn’t find his voice she answered for him proudly.
“Yesterday Tom Riddle called me himself to tell me that our star has been cast as the lead in his first film”
Walburga’s smile stretched across her face with a warmth that Regulus still couldn’t decipher when she spoke. It had all the makings of a smile mothers like Sirius’s friend’s would have but sometimes Regulus wondered if this was a leftover skill from her own acting career. For hours on end Regulus was coached by his mother in a small room away from any distraction and while this meant he was capable of a leading role at just thirteen it also meant he had seen every version of the woman. He didn’t know if her pride was genuine like he hoped anymore or if it was just another facet of her ever shifting personality. It was hard to argue it was when you also tried to argue the side that left marks across your cheek wasn’t real.
Sirius squeezed his leg again and Narcissa met his eye with a look that told him she was happy for him. A look unlike Bellatrix’s wink which usually meant a celebration their parents wouldn’t appreciate once they were excused. Arcturus asked him about it with a genuine interest and so Regulus cast his mind back to last weekend.
He’d sat in the back of the family car with his mother opposite him. It was the first time that week that she was leaving him without her constant observation. No remarks about his posture, no impulse quizzes about random comments she had made in a session three weeks ago. Regulus thought that she was giving him the grace she would want before an audition. On nicer days sometimes she would tell him fun stories about her rituals, giving him teasing ideas for his own, but really he wished she would just act normally. She spent the entire journey talking with his Aunt Eldora, leaving him in the company of his cousin Pandora and it set him on edge.
Pandora was auditioning too which made him feel better about it. Narcissa had told him once that Eldora wanted Pandora to “be his” and so she pushed her into acting while Evan got away with hesitant normalcy. He went to school with Sirius and got on with his life. No one could blame Eldora for having the idea. Pandora had been attached to his side since they were small children. They had never known a life without each other and Regulus couldn’t imagine forsaking that for anything. It only made sense that Pandora was a part of this part of his life too. She had her hand tucked into his for the entire journey with no rush to fill the silence and Regulus just hoped his aunt wasn’t getting the wrong impression.
When they got to the studio Walburga held Regulus’ wrist tightly, tight enough to leave pale fingerprints, and pulled him out of the car and into the building with an erratic urgency that he hadn’t felt in the car. She pushed past runners and production managers as though she truly believed she was Moses, dragging Regulus and hurrying the Rosiers in her wake.
The two of them had already auditioned previously. Today was a chemistry read. Walburga’s last words of advice to the two of them before she guided them into a room with a hand on either shoulder was to make sure that if the chemistry isn’t there act so brilliantly that you’re the one they keep. She pressed a quick and startling kiss to Regulus’s head and pushed them into the lion's den.
Two kids were waiting for them sitting on stools with scripts in their hands. Regulus could tell they already knew each other by the way they shared a look after they surveyed him and Pandora with questioning eyes. As though they had to understand each other's impressions before they could decide their own. The boy’s eyes bore into his back as he took his own script and led Pandora to the other stools but Regulus tried to ignore him in favour of watching Tom Riddle.
He sat before them reclining in his chair as though the folded plastic was a throne. Dark curls were slicked back with a pungent oil that filled the room and sharp eyes flicked between each child with the interest of a predator. He was the only adult in the room, unusual for a casting decision. Pandora sidled closer to Regulus and he began to understand the other pair’s closeness. The room was quiet while he surveyed them, deathly still, and it set them all on edge. His sudden clap spooked them to his amusement.
He smiled in a way that made Regulus feel uncomfortable in his skin. Like the smile went underneath it and burrowed there.
“Introduce yourselves to each other” Tom gestured to the four of them with a contained eagerness. “And then we’ll start with page 14. Only one scene today should be enough to know. Make it count”
The words weren’t said to encourage them. Regulus knew that underlying threat well enough. His head turned as the girl cleared her throat.
Her chin jutted out and her long braids tumbled down her straight back with the movement. Stand by Me was a classic, so re-making it was hard enough for a critical audience. But casting two black actresses in the roles of beloved male characters? Riddle was the only director who could’ve possibly got it cleared. Slytherin was known for its ambitious films and Riddle was its biggest success in terms of directing. Still, Regulus was immediately struck by how brave this girl was. “I’m Dorcas Meadowes and I’m reading for Christine Chambers”
She spoke as if she was daring someone in the room to go against what she said but no one did and everyone moved on to her friend beside her. He looked directly at Regulus when he introduced himself, dark hair falling into equally compelling eyes, and he found it hard to resist looking back.
“Barty Crouch Jr, reading for Teddy Duchamp”
Dorcas had been waiting for someone to challenge her name, Barty was willing Regulus to remember it.
Pandora tucked her blonde locs behind her ears and announced she was reading for Vanessa Tessio and then suddenly it was Regulus’s turn. All eyes turned to him. Riddle’s hunger, Barty’s interest, Dorcas’s guardedness and Pandora’s encouragement. He swallowed harshly and pictured Sirius. He pictured his brother’s bravery and his easy charisma and Regulus did what he did best out of his cousins. He acted.
“I’m Regulus Black” came the shrugging confidence Sirius often wore. “reading for Gordie Lachance”
The scene started with Regulus climbing up a treehouse ladder and popping up in the middle of Barty and Dorcas’ card game.
Dorcas had the opening line and Riddle watched with hawkish eyes as she settled into Christine’s shoes. An imagined cigarette between her fingers and a relaxed smirk on her lips as she read her cards, Dorcas let her flawless American accent fill the room.
“Hey, how do you know a Frenchman’s been in your backyard?”
“Hey, I’m French okay?” Barty took a drag of his own cigarette.
Dorcas gave Regulus a conspiratorial glance that felt real, like they shared in a joke against Barty when truly it should be the other way round. He gave a private tight lipped smile back, bursting into laughter when Dorcas delivered her punchline: “Your garbage cans are empty and your dogs pregnant”
“Didn’t I just say I was French?”
They continued arguing about the imaginary card game that lay on a fake table before them. Pandora just watched, eyes flicking back and forth between each character just as Riddle was doing. It went on for a little until Regulus threw his fake cards at the pile.
“Piss up a rope!”
Barty leaned forward teasingly, eyes dancing dangerously with mirth but also something else Regulus didn’t quite know as he focused on feigning being upset. “Gordie’s out! Old Gordie’s just bit the bag and stepped out the door!”
He kept flicking his eyes over at Regulus even though he was meant to be arguing with Dorcas about her credibility. She subtly pursed her lips at him but Pandora could see he couldn’t help it. Pandora took it as her cue and knocked on the arm of her chair harshly.
“That’s not the secret knock!”
“I forget the secret knock, let me in” Pandora let a childlike innocence flood into her voice and hid her smile as her peers groaned Vern.
“Oh man you guys are not gonna believe this!” Pandora exclaimed. “This is so boss. Oh man, wait till you hear this! You won’t believe it, it’s unbelievable. Let me catch my breath. Let me - I ran all the way from my house-”
Dorcas wrapped her arms around Regulus and Barty and the three of them broke out into song. The scene continued on until the four of them hatched a plan to find a dead body but Regulus stayed there. He soaked in Barty‘s splitting smile and Dorcas’s tight grip on his shoulder.
“I ran all the way home!” they sang, their voices carrying The Impalas’ tune.
Home.
-
The first day on set was probably the most pivotal day of Regulus’s life.
His mother had tucked him into the car with Kreacher rather than accompany him which was just fine to the two of them. Kreacher let Regulus choose the music seeing as he had to drive and couldn’t entertain the young man, not that Kreacher was remotely entertaining to most. This was a privilege he was rarely allowed with Sirius being the Black scholar of sound. It was usually his brother who was pushed to make such small decisions, but in a family with no autonomy any decision was grand.
They drove in companionable silence, Regulus watching London fade into countryside as they got to the studio.
Sirius loved London and all the friends he made as he began to piece together his career. He’d even made a group. A rag tag set of mischievous boys who terrorised their music teachers and ran amok with unrestrained ambition. For Sirius, London was a city that harboured hope for the future. Regulus himself missed Paris. He missed running hand in hand with Pandora down alleyways and feeling grown up when Bellatrix would take him on a coffee date by the Seine. He missed the romantic lull of the river and the peacefulness of their family before it was all uprooted. Sirius says his memory is blurred but Regulus clung on to Paris is the same way Sirius clung on to his own idealised city.
Kreacher parked the car with a jolt and Regulus blinked, having been thoroughly knocked from his daydream. The butler placed a hand on his shoulder and searched Regulus’s young face with wary eyes. He was a kind man at heart. Though Sirius hated to be around him, Regulus rather enjoyed his company. He would spin tales of the days he would act as Walburga’s chauffeur when she needed driving from shoot to shoot, dinner party to gala. All the things he saw and secrets he heard.
One night when Regulus was very small Bellatrix was in his room helping him get ready for bed. Those were the days when they lived in Paris and their two houses were so fluid it was as if they all lived together, five cousins raised more like siblings. She sat on his duvet and smoothed the wrinkles around his small frame with lithe fingers and sharp nails. Then she told him why Kreacher was so loyal to the house in a hushed whisper, her strange idea of a bedtime story. Regulus remembered that story now as Kreacher’s weathered face took in his.
The man attempted a comforting smile but ended up with a grimace. “Be careful, Master Regulus. Watch yourself and mind the company you’re in”
The words bounced off of him in the way that any warning bounces off of youth. By believing himself separate from any kind of tragedy, Regulus left the car without the sense of caution Kreacher had hoped to impart. He walked through to hair and makeup with a tense handler and in the short time it took for him to get there he’d forgotten the conversation with Kreacher completely.
Pomona Sprout was titled boldly across a white door and the woman revealed herself after a few short knocks. She was shorter than Regulus with wisps of brown hair spilling out of her haphazardly tied updo and a tired smile. The handler was already speeding away muttering into his headpiece so Sprout smiled and beckoned him in with round hands.
“Come in, birdie” she said, ushering him into the blindingly light room. Posters of previous movies Pomona had styled lined one wall and the other was dominated by mirrors and moodboards for Stand by Me. There was one for Gordie and another for Teddy, featuring the original actors’ clothes and 80s inspired outfits she had dressed him in in the many fittings he had endured since landing the part. Pomona guided Regulus to the chair that his moodboard hung over and sat him down promptly before rifling through one of the rails. Regulus watched her through the mirror and swung his feet against the fold up chair as he listened to shuffling behind one of the privacy boards.
“Riddle wants you starting on a group scene today, seeing as it’s your first day n all” Pomona said distractedly. She pulled out a shirt and held it beneath his chin like one would hold a knife, glared at it for a moment then sighed and put it back to continue her rifling. “I remember we agreed on red the last time I saw you, my love, but I really don’t think you have the undertone for it now I’ve got you in front of me again. Maybe a blue?”
She thrust another shirt at him before sighing and continuing her search. The rustling continued on before the creaking hinges on one of the privacy panels swung open and revealed a freshly dressed Barty Crouch. An oversized khaki shirt hung off his lithe frame beneath a dog collar necklace and over straight legged dark jeans. He leaned against the privacy board and let his eyes run over Regulus with a haughty look that shouldn’t have fit him but did easily. Regulus’s mother was so obsessed with their heritage, their legacy. She couldn’t have fathomed that this kid, who meant nothing in their world yet, could dare look at a Black like that. Like Regulus was something to be determined not someone with a ticket into this industry that was booked before his grandparents were born.
Barty sauntered over to the chair beside him. “Early start, huh?”
Regulus cut him a sidelong glance. “That was a terrible conversation starter”
Pomona finally came up with a violet sort of red and thrust it at Regulus along with the jeans and old trainers she’d arranged. She gave him a shove towards the changing board and he left to the sound of Barty’s strange laugh. It was like something Regulus had never heard before and even after he shut the door he could still hear it echoing around the room. He didn’t even know what he said was meant to be so funny.
He pulled the jeans on and wrinkled at the unfamiliar feeling of denim against his skin. Walburga wasn’t a fan of casual wear and so Sirius took his fashion as his first form of rebellion. Everywhere he knew cameras would be he would wear jeans with patterns or cut outs and denim jackets with fringe. He cultivated a personality out of every item of clothing his mother despised and now when Alphard took him to opening events to start performing covers before the main act took the stage (his own music was still confined to songbooks) the crowd expected another riotous look. Regulus saw how Alphard let Sirius experiment in a safe way. If the media expected it, Walburga had to too no matter how begrudgingly. She was a strict mother but beyond that she had a strict understanding of how the industry worked. Regulus and his cousins didn’t have a lenient mentor. Regulus continued to act as his mother demonstrated to keep his other mother at bay, and so denim remained foreign to him until today.
When he came out of the hidden corner he sat in the chair beside Barty and met his strangely bright hazel eyes in the mirror. Pomona was styling his hair into a side parting, combing gel through it to make it lay flat against his head. Regulus followed the movement of the comb as it scraped across Barty’s head and curled at the end. It suited him in a strange way and Regulus enjoyed watching the motions of refining Barty into something enticing. Into a character.
Well, that was until the illusion of Teddy was broken by Barty’s fluctuating accent. “I have a better starter”
“Go on”
Barty held his gaze in the mirror. “Who is Regulus Black? The man behind the surname”
That only lasted moments before Barty split laughing. Regulus had blanched at first. It wasn’t the first time someone had made a joke about his name and his family, it produced a never ending stretch of material. But as Barty cackled to himself at his own joke, Regulus started to chuckle hesitantly too. He wanted to join the noise he so loved hearing. Pomona tutted around them, hiding her own smile behind admonishments of keeping still and looking straight ahead.
“That’s even worse.”
“Why don’t you give it a go then?”
Pomona left Barty’s hair to set and moved on to combing through Regulus’s. He was set to have a haircut, something Sirius had teased him relentlessly about, because his mother liked to keep him looking as up to date as possible and that definitely wasn’t the 80s. As the scissors got going, Regulus thought of a question.
“What’s the accent about?”
“Well, my father’s Scottish. Bartemius Crouch, he’s an MP for the SNP.” Barty said with a scowl. He wasn’t laughing anymore, it had died on his lips, and he avoided Regulus’s eyes in the mirror. “Not the only one with a celebrity dad”
Eager to change the mood, Regulus pushed the question. “And your mother?”
“My Ma’s from Florence. She convinced my father to move us to England so my accent is a bit of a mess. It’s how I met Dorcas though, we audition for a lot of the same sort of roles, so I guess I’m glad” Barty sighed but there was fondness in it. The same sort of fondness Sirius had in his eyes when he told him stories of his friends and what they got up to. Still, Regulus wondered if there was something else between them. Before he could ask, Barty abruptly changed the subject. “I’d ask about you, but then everyone knows about you. One of your lot is never not in TMZ.”
Hair fell all about his shoulders and onto the floor in practised snips. It fell across his forehead now and framed his grey eyes differently to how it used to. The white streaks he was born with stayed though, that was something his mother hadn’t budged on. She always said a marker makes you memorable and being memorable gets you roles. He supposed that was why she didn’t oppose Sirius’s differences as much as she would've. He could already hear Sirius and Bellatrix taking the increasingly rare opportunity to team up on him in a way only older siblings could. Andy would run her hands through his hair and claim uneasily that he looked handsome this way while Narcissa gave him an honest look of disagreement.
It dawned on him that the only people he could think of that would have an opinion would be his family. Even Evan and Pandora were in that bracket, friends by blood not chance. So instead of getting annoyed about the way Barty referenced his family so casually when he was clearly avoidant about his own, Regulus decided to try. To try and make his own friends like Sirius had so seamlessly just out of the stubborn desire to prove he could be like his brother if he wanted to. He decided he was going to have to make Barty his friend as a sign. A sign to who, he didn’t know. God, the universe, his mother? Someone. A sign that he could be someone behind the surname and someone beyond the heir.
Pomona had moved on to starting the prosthetics on Barty’s ear. Teddy’s father had burnt it on the stove some time before the film began, and so she had to create a peeling mess of flesh beside the dried hair. That meant he had a while to start on befriending Barty.
“Isn’t TMZ notorious for getting their facts wrong? I’m sure most things you’ve heard are false or misconstrued”
Barty scoffed teasingly. He found it amusing. “Well the article complaining about your homeschooling definitely wasn’t if you’re using words like misconstrued so casually”
“As if you aren’t the same” Regulus decided to skirt around his reasoning to avoid the cringe at Crouch Senior’s mention.
They continued to talk as Barty got his injuries pasted on and Regulus got used to the awful trim. It became easier as the conversation moved on and Regulus felt the sarcastic quips and cold looks he’d imbedded in himself flourish as Barty continued to be amused by him. Pomona danced around them both with a watchful eye and busy hands, but also a smile that grew fonder with each ridiculous thing.
Once she was done, Pomona placed a pair of thick rimmed glasses on Barty’s nose and knocked both of their shoulders with a pleased expression. A camera appeared in her hands seemingly from nowhere and she guided the two boys together. After seeing their sudden stiff bodies with the closeness, Pomona took Barty’s arm (the taller of the two) and manually placed it around Regulus’s shoulder. It squashed their faces together and their blushing smiles were captured forever in film.
The two boys met Pandora and Dorcas later on set after a short drive to a field away from the studio. The team had built tracks down the middle, long aged panels hammered on top of iron railings strong enough to propel a real train. It was wide enough for the four of them to walk across it and the unkempt grass and bushes provided a great backdrop for the cameras they were setting up.
The girls were sitting on chairs with Rosier and Meadowes printed on them and Regulus could see by the way Dorcas was kicking her feet that she was excited. It was new for her and Barty in a way it wasn't for him and Dora. They practically grew up on sets like this. Because of his mother, it was like Regulus’s daycare. The only difference now was that the seat ahead of him still read Black but it was meant for him.
Pandora spun on her seat and met Regulus with a sunny smile but before they could greet each other a shadow came over the grass. They’d been so engrossed in the set that they hadn’t noticed Riddle slink from the directors marquee. He was wearing a sleek suit which made him stick out from the other crew members walking around in jeans and memorabilia from old shoots. He made a point to look expensive, Regulus thought. To look important.
“Just wanted to have a word with my stars” he said, his oily voice running over each of them but leaving Regulus feeling especially dirty. He pulled up a chair in front of them and sat forwards with his elbows on his knees, waiting until they were all attentive and seated. “This is an ensemble cast which works to our advantage. Because of some.. controversial decisions, I’m really relying on you four for this films success”
Riddle's eyes lingered on Dorcas and Pandora when he said that with a thinly veiled irritation but he didn’t leave room for interruption.
“The four of you need to be friends, strong friends. Audiences go to see films because some part of them want to believe that it’s true, even horror ones. And the films that do best in the cinemas are the ones where everyone believes that the cast were so affected by the script that it became true. That you couldn’t help but absorb the characters as evidence that such friendships are real and attainable, do you understand?” He didn’t wait for an answer. The four of them would soon learn that most of Riddle’s questions were rhetorical and any answer that didn’t come from himself was due to be wrong. “So you need to see each other beyond shooting, post about it online, create inside jokes. You need to sell this film for me, stars, because it was tough enough to get it through Slytherin. Got it?”
Regulus swallowed and nodded sharply, keeping eye contact like he had learnt to.
“Good. Have a good first day”
Riddle stood with a sharp and threatening smile and ruffled Regulus’s hair on his way back to the marquee.
They did have a good first day, beyond good. They walked through the scene where Dorcas proved to be a natural and Barty revealed himself to be hilarious. Regulus had read the script with his mother until the pages bled with annotated ink and crumbled at the edges. What they had found in their character study exercise was that their little group split into duos. Gordie and Chris, Regulus and Dorcas. The best friends, the ones who were making it out of that town. Teddy and Vern, Barty and Pandora. The tagalongs and the ones who the bigger duo cared for but kept around for comedic value.
That’s how the scene played out that day and Regulus found himself enjoying leaning on Dorcas and sharing secret smiles with her while Barty made jokes at Pandora’s expense. They walked along the tracks over and over that day, saying the same lines but never growing tired of them because of the surreal fact that they got to say them. Barty’s favourite was “did your mother ever have any kids who lived?” and in one of the breaks Dorcas grumbled to Regulus lightheartedly that he got all the good lines.
The sun wore down on them and in between each scene when they had to move the cameras around they ran back to their own marquee where an assistant waited with ice cold lemonade and fun straws. Pandora would lean on Regulus’s shoulder and they would play cards or drawing games until they were called back again with Dorcas swearing she would win the next round.
The brilliant day ended with Barty pulling Regulus aside just before they hopped in the van back to the studio to get changed. He looked nervous even though he’d been exuding a cooled confidence the entire day and he kept looking over Regulus’s shoulder to where Dorcas was piling into the van with Dora as if she would offer some kind of telepathic support.
“So, uh, you have a number, right? A real phone, not just one for agents and stuff” Barty asked.
Regulus quirked an eyebrow. “I do”
Barty seemed used to Regulus’s blunt responses now, even enjoyed them sometimes. He only hummed at that instead of getting annoyed and rocked on his feet. “Can I have it?” After a short pause, he added. “You know, Riddle wants us to keep in touch and everything.”
With a quick dart of his hand, Regulus simply snatched the phone from Barty’s hand. He didn’t trust himself to speak, only to type the number into his phone and try not to smile. For the contact picture he put the one Pomona took of them in the hair and makeup trailer then grabbed Barty’s wrist and dragged him back to the van with a ducked head and pink cheeks.
-
Sirius’s room was something else. It was nothing like any other room in the house and it seemed to be a miracle that Walburga had allowed it to stay that way. It was opposite Regulus’s on the highest landing in the house with a window overlooking the acres of gardens the property came with. The wallpaper was hidden behind posters of rock stars and old bands, the lead singers sporting makeup and long hair and strange outfits. He only got away with it because Alphard had argued it was a way of reminding Sirius of his goals but Walburga rarely went inside anymore after branding it an eyesore. Regulus stood in it now, making his way over to his brother’s bed where he lay spread out on a phone call.
“I know, Pete, you'd hardly believe…” he was saying with his face pressed up close into the camera. They were talking about some prank or other, some kind of misbehaviour Regulus was sure he’d be hearing about later in a lecture. Sirius was decidedly ignoring him in favour of his friend’s warped voice but he was allowing him to stay so Regulus tucked himself into a chair by the window and waited for the call to be over. Sirius spent more and more time holed up in this eccentric room, up late so Regulus could hear him cackling down the phone through the walls late at night. Where before he used to spend time with their cousins and exploring the grounds with them and their imaginary games, now if he's not hiding up here he was with Alphard or his strange friends. The only way to hold his brother’s attention was to sit and wait for it, so that's what Regulus was doing.
He watched Kreacher hobbling about the garden for a while, bossing about the gardeners and the housekeepers with a practised authority and a scowl which meant his mother was lurking around somewhere Regulus couldn’t see. Kreacher only smiled when his mother wasn’t around. It was like a perpetual sadness existed between them, fused by loyalty and a relationship that spanned too many decades to fracture.
The sound of a phone pinged across the room and Regulus almost unconsciously ignored it despite the buzz against his leg. He wasn't used to getting texts yet even though Barty had been making good use of having his number since he gave it to him a few weeks ago. It was always Sirius’s phone that rang, not his. Being homeschooled with Pandora limited the pool of friends he could draw from. Regulus fished the phone from his pocket and caught his brother’s narrowed eyes.
“Who’s that?” When Regulus didn’t answer, Sirius murmured into the phone “Pete, hang on I'll call you back” before hanging up and sitting up properly to watch his brother eagerly read a message. “Is it Evan? Did he tell you about what happened today?”
“No, Dora told me that when I saw her earlier” Regulus replied distractedly. He was thinking about how to reply to the text that had made his eyes go wide.
Barty: my mum’s hosting a party for my dad’s birthday
there'll be cameras for riddle’s promo idea if you wanna come
A party. Most parties Regulus had been to were hosted by some family member of his so he always knew what to expect. But a party thrown by a politician’s wife? That threw him slightly in the deep end. And putting that aside, would it be on his grandfather’s list of acceptable places for a Black to be seen? None of that stopped Regulus from wanting to go. He wanted to see Barty and Dorcas and feel what Sirius did when he shook the house with his laughter echoing off his friends’ on the phone. He wanted a taste of normalcy.
“Who is it?” Sirius said again, crawling off his bed to try and peer over his shoulder.
Regulus snatched it away and stuffed his phone back in his pocket. He pushed his brother away from him on the window sill so the two boys sat opposite each other on the small wooden frame. “Why didn’t you help Evan?”
Sirius looked out of the window to avoid his eyes. “Why would I?”
“Because he’s your cousin” Regulus answered with tension in his voice.
“He’s Cissa’s cousin. He’s not related to us”
“Cissa is related to us, so he is”
Sirius scoffed. Narcissa’s parentage had always been up for discussion, Andromeda had told him once, until Regulus was born with the same poliosis she had. It was different to hers, his being streaks that framed his face and Cissa’s being slightly underneath. Still, it validated her claim to the Black family when the tabloids had been using her as a means to attack the family for years. Bellatrix and Andromeda’s mother had passed away in the early stages of their life and Cygnus had quickly fallen in love with a young Druella (then, Druella Greengrass) while she was still married. Many articles speculated on whether Narcissa was part of an aftermath of that divorce, the turn over having been extremely fast.
“Evan’s nothing to do with me. If he wants to start fighting, why should I risk my neck? And I know what you’re doing. You’re changing the subject.”
The phone buzzed again in Regulus’s pocket, this time a different ring tone. It was a light sound that Pandora had described as sparkling when she installed it. It was so he knew when he needed to pick up for her. It went a few times before he did and he held it close to his chest so his brother couldn’t see it.
It was only four words, a single text for each one: Say Yes To Barty.
Say yes to Barty. He didn’t know if he was able to not say yes to Barty. Riddle had been calling Regulus and Dorcas to set alone more often than not recently, the two of them having a bunch of scenes together as the film's main duo. He liked Dorcas a lot. The way she said things with a direct bluntness, her wit. He enjoyed her company and the ease in it. Her intimidating look was especially welcoming as Regulus could relax his face into its natural grim expression and feel comfortable that she was doing the same. In saying this, Regulus missed Barty on set. He’d grown accustomed to dressing and undressing in costume together and hearing his laugh bounce around the walls of the trailer. Pomona didn’t wear her reluctant smile when Barty wasn’t on the call sheet and although he enjoyed Dorcas’s company more and more over the days, Regulus missed him being present despite the texts he sent (those made his stomach drop, but hardly in a way he wanted to analyse).
Regulus relaxed his grip, if only to type a reply, and Sirius saw his chance. He snatched the phone from Regulus’s hand and held it above his brother’s head to read it without the snatching hands getting in the way. Another text sent Regulus into a frenzy like urgency, grappling with his brother as Sirius read the message.
“A party?” he scoffed. “You know Mum won’t let you go.”
Sirius scrolled through their chat and Regulus slumped in defeat as his brother sat back down beside him. “You two talk a lot. You like him then?”
A flush took over his face and he drowned in indignance. “Yeah, we’re friends. So? You can have friends and so can I. It's not like-”
“Woah” Sirius chuckled and pushed Regulus’s head gently. “I know. I was just worried about you. I thought you’d stick to Pandora like glue like you usually do. I was worried you’d be too shy to make new friends”
“Well I wasn’t” Regulus huffed and turned away, stalking out of the room after snatching his phone back.
Sirius watched him go with his head cocked. His own phone rang again, no doubt Peter calling him back, but he didn’t pick it up. Instead he thought about Barty Crouch and the influence he would have on his brother when he convinced his mother to let Regulus go. He wondered if the party would be the same as the ones he snuck out to with James Potter. And most of all, Sirius thought about the blush on Regulus’s pale cheeks and wondered if this Barty character was causing the same burn in his brother's stomach as the one he felt when James brought his strange old friend around.
-
Regulus stood in Eldora Rosier’s foyer, hands clasped behind his back as his aunt surveyed him. He knew she was jealous of her sister-in-law, Druella, for being able to move past her divorce on to an even more lucrative alliance in the then newly single Cygnus Black. She saw Cygnus in Regulus not in the way people saw him in Bella’s thirst or Andy's arrogance. No, she took in the thirteen year old standing before her with his hair falling into his eyes and his suit as sharp as a model’s and saw the opportunity that Cygnus had been. Her eyes roved across him as they waited for Pandora and Eldora prayed that her daughter could do what she couldn’t.
Evan came down first. The condition Sirius had negotiated down to was that they be accompanied by Evan as part of his punishment for throwing a punch at Bruce Mulciber’s eye. Taking his younger sister and cousin to a party wasn’t exactly his idea of fun on a Friday night, but he still dressed handsomely and gave Regulus a conspiratorial wink. Eldora finally let Regulus out of her sight to pull at Evan’s lapels, almost having to go on her tiptoes to reach her son’s shoulders. Fifteen like Sirius, Evan towered over all the cousins and certainly his sister. He had the Rosier blonde hair cornrowed out of his eyes and stark blue eyes that stared malignantly against dark skin. Sirius’s antithesis in most ways, they didn’t get on, but Evan was still a friend to Regulus in his protective but detached way.
“Dora won’t be a minute,” he said smoothly, checking his watch. “If Kreacher steps on the pedal we should be there just in time for it to get properly started.”
Regulus nodded. “Dorcas is your age so you might not be completely bored. She’s cool”
Both Evan and Dorcas had this air of superiority. Not the kind where they believed they were better than most, but the kind that just hung off of them effortlessly. Maybe it was them being two years older than him and Pandora (or one, in Barty’s case), but they seemed to have in common that sense of unattainability that Hollywood reproduced.
Evan only hummed, but he could tell he was interested by the quirk of his eyebrow. Pandora hurried down the stairs moments after, hiking her green skirts around her knees in her rush. Her perfectly painted lips were broken into a smile and her updo swayed in her flurry. The energy that made Pandora herself was threatening Eldora’s moulding of her and she looked mortified. She glided to meet Pandora at the bottom of the stairs with a harsh grasp around her wrist as Evan held back a laugh. The skirts fell and Regulus’s friend lost herself to the confines of being a failure’s daughter.
“Behave” Eldora had to regain her composure before she gave her warnings. She wasn’t addressing Regulus, it wasn’t her place, but he knew this applied to him too. “Don’t dishonour this house. Don’t risk your standing. Do not embarrass me any further. Do you understand?”
While her hissing was intimidating, Regulus thought absentmindedly as the three all bowed their heads, she had nothing on Walburga Black.
They all shuffled out of the house, into the cold evening air and ducking inside the car Kreacher was waiting with. The seats were warm beneath them and the air smelt like a soft comfort. Kreacher didn’t address them, simply peeled away from Rosier Manor and drove silently as if he didn’t exist. Regulus often found that most services he was privileged to have were meant to be considered automatic. He wasn’t meant to thank the cleaners or commend the chef. Where Sirius was always the more inquisitive brother, it was in this area where Regulus was the only one who felt wrong in this. He turned his mind away from Kreacher’s resigned look in the rear view mirror and watched the lights of London flicker past out the window. Barty lived in central London so they drove past all the tourist attractions they hadn’t visited since they moved to England. Evan laughed when they passed the Tower of London.
“Remember when you two got so excited to see the heads on the spikes? You seriously thought Guy Fawkes would still be hanging in there. I can picture the tantrum Kreacher had on his hands right now”
Pandora grumbled in her seat but Regulus just kept watching the traffic. He read each number plate, tallied up each car colour, memorised interesting buildings. Maybe if he watched London enough he would see what Sirius saw in it. It still wasn’t Paris.
When Kreacher eventually pulled into park, Regulus helped Pandora out of the car in front of an elegant townhouse. It had flowers growing up the front of it in an elegant arch of vines, giving it a brilliant show of colour against the road of monotonous homes. Cameras flashed as soon as the car had opened, newspaper representatives beginning to call for attention. Pandora held on to Regulus’s arm tightly. It was a disorienting feeling when you’re so used to the cameras yelling for your father or your uncle that now they’re focusing on you. Evan took hold of their shoulders and steered them forcefully inside, ignoring the calls and waving a quick goodbye to Kreacher.
The door swung open before Evan could lean over them both and knock and they were ushered in by white gloved hands. A waitress led them to a small room to hang their coats up and then took them down a long corridor. Paintings hung on gilded frames against dark wallpaper and glittering in candlelight. The house so far was rather like a museum, and that feeling didn’t change when the waitress revealed a large hall filled with people Regulus had seen his Uncle Alphard sneering at on the tv. Politicians clinked flutes of champagne together in small huddles with business giants and sleazy billionaires laughing in small contained bursts. The three of them were unmoored, the waitress having slinked off, and Regulus quickly realised that his mother’s training was useless here. This wasn’t his world. He couldn’t talk smoothly and reference his father’s latest shoot or his brother’s newest ventures because despite his money these people didn’t truly respect show business. They saw it as a means to appeal to voters and used actors or musicians to seem more palatable. Once the electorates weren’t looking, politicians turned their noses up at them too.
Evan kept his hands on their shoulders and took to steering them to the side of the room now, as though they were propelling him forward. Pandora seemed to itch under her brother’s protective hold but Regulus relaxed into it because it meant he didn’t have to be in control. Evan feigned annoyance as he leant against the wall and surveyed the two. “So where’s this friend? Sirius told me I could hand you over to him and mind my business for the rest of the night”
Pandora rolled her eyes. “Mind your business how? Blackening your lungs?”
He slipped his hand in his trousers pocket and waved a small box of cigarettes between his fingers mockingly.
“My mother won’t be happy to see those”
Regulus spun around to see Barty leaning against the bannister of the stairs that spilled into the hall. He wore a lazy smirk but Regulus had watched him long enough to know he was excited to see them. The shine in his hazel eyes was unmistakable. Dorcas hung over his shoulder a few steps above him. It was clear the two had been watching them, Dorcas’s face hanging low enough to whisper in Barty’s ear. They weren’t dressed as formally as their guests were. Barty had forgone a tie, drawing attention to his sharp collar bones poking out beneath a green untucked shirt. Dorcas’s clothes were similar, high waisted trousers and an open flowy red shirt revealing a vest underneath. Regulus made his way toward them almost instinctively, like a rope was pulling him around the waist.
Barty’s eyes moved across Regulus’s frame like Eldora’s had but they were charged with something else Regulus couldn’t place. He cleared his throat self consciously, at a loss for something to say, but the Rosiers had caught up to him now and Evan offered Barty his ringed hand.
“Evan Rosier,” he said gruffly. Dorcas appraised him and took the hand instead.
“You have an opinion on Marlene McKinnon?” she asked with an even tone. Regulus recognised it to be a test and he waited on baited breath for his cousin’s answer. From the way they looked at eachother, Regulus got the feeling that they knew each other already.
They were sitting on the stairs now, Pandora having made her way up to sit beside Dorcas and the rest following suit. Barty draped himself across a step and Regulus moved to the one beneath him trying to find a reasonable distance. Evan stayed standing with his arms crossed and an unreadable expression shadowed his face.
“Yeah” he said finally. “McKinnon’s in my vocal class. She’s a cunt. Why?”
Dorcas broke into a smile and pulled him up. “Welcome to the group, Rosier”
She led him up the stairs and Evan grabbed his sister’s hand as they went. Regulus could hear her launching into a complaint on the way. That left him alone with Barty and he felt an awkwardness dawn on him that he didn’t usually feel between them. Maybe it was the way the lights drew shadows across Barty’s face or the music pulsing in the background but Regulus was getting increasingly aware of himself and he hated it. Barty didn’t seem to notice. He only lazed on his step and nodded his head along casually to whatever the band was playing. They didn’t speak for a while and slowly Regulus moved to lean his back against the opposite wall so the two boys were facing each other.
“You look nice. Tonight.” Barty said eventually. “Your hair… Well, I don’t think I’ve said but I like it, even after Poppy’s cut most of it off. It’s different.”
“Thanks”
Barty sat up then at Regulus’s flustered reply and looked at him properly. He spoke earnestly. “I’m glad you came. My dad can be a proper arse sometimes and if you’re here I thought maybe it might be easier.”
“My dad can be an arse too” Regulus shrugged as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Barty nodded and it settled that conversation easily, out of the way. He stood abruptly and knocked his head towards the makeshift dance floor.
“I like this song” was all he said and he moved towards where the guests had stopped swaying slowly and started shimmying to a more upbeat rhythm. The crowd parted for him and he moved without looking back. Regulus was expected to follow him.
At his mother’s parties when they were younger, Regulus hardly danced unless his mother needed him to. No matter how much Sirius beckoned him, bargained with him, bribed him, Regulus would stay statuesque with Narcissa until he gave up and sought out Bellatrix to spin around with him. Now Sirius hardly attended and Regulus still didn’t dance, but here he couldn’t seem to shed the rope attached beneath his naval. He reluctantly followed Barty into the crowd that had swallowed him up and found the boy swaying his hips easily.
“You know this one?” he asked, and Regulus shook his head as he tried to mimic how Barty moved.
Barty grinned. “It’s an Italian one, my Ma must’ve slipped it onto the band’s playlist. Look, you do it like this”
He placed his hands just above Regulus’s waist and swivelled them to the beat rather than the words. Barty didn’t seem to notice the flush across Regulus’s cheeks as he focused on teaching his friend the dance, nor the way panic flashed across his face. He just kept moving them in time and matching the rhythm with his own. The guests gave them a wide enough berth to dance freely in and Regulus hated to admit he was having a nice time. Except that wide berth meant they drew attention and soon Barty’s hands stilled and he stopped dancing suddenly. Barty was staring at something in the space above Regulus’s shoulder and he turned to see a tall man standing behind him.
The man looked almost like a copy of Barty. Lithe limbs, intense eyes, a crooked smile. The only difference was Barty’s thick brown hair in comparison to his father’s sandy locks and a certain malignance in his eyes that Regulus had never seen in Barty’s. It was wicked and charming and deeply unsafe.
“Father” Barty said stiffly. “This is my friend Regulus Black”
Regulus offered him his hand accordingly and tried not to wince under the tight grip. “Pleasure to meet you, sir”
“Well, Bartemius I wish you’d follow young Regulus’s example” Crouch Sr turned to Regulus and spoke in a stage whisper. “No matter how hard I try to… teach him, he just can’t seem to grasp respect and manners”
Regulus’s mouth tightened. He could’ve replaced Mr Crouch with his mother and Barty with Sirius and that interaction would’ve been just the same. It was clear why Crouch Sr had made such an impact on the political sphere. He had that natural charisma Barty did but he used it to make people smaller, to push his beliefs into the practice of everyone else including his son. Regulus wanted to defend his friend but he knew how that went. As soon as everyone left Barty would get the punishment and Regulus wouldn’t be able to leave if he knew he’d be responsible for that. So with regret, he swerved.
“Barty’s always respectful on set, sir. A real favourite with Riddle. I’d say after the film premiers Barty will have tons of offers”
Crouch mused on this as the crowd found ways to dance around him awkwardly. “Well you would understand all that better than I would, considering. You know, I used to have a poster of your mother on my wall when I was a kid. What was that film she was in?”
The lewd way his mouth quirked made Regulus’s blood run cold. He knew exactly what film he was talking about having been forced to dissect his mother’s entire film catalogue. Before she was cast in biopics and blockbusters, she had played a princess in one of her first roles, her wardrobe consisting of tight, revealing dresses and short skirts. It was a way in for her in a world his grandfather Arcturus had believed she couldn’t pursue seriously and Walburga had taken that role and frankly made it her bitch. It gave her the opportunity to become a household name, at the expense of pervy boys like Crouch staring at her as they got ready for bed, and it was something Regulus was endlessly proud of her for. Her resilience. Walburga could be a volatile and distant mother, but she was a formidable woman and phenomenal actress and that was who he wanted to make proud.
“Dad” Barty hissed when Regulus failed to answer.
“What?” Crouch shrugged, eyes flicking between the two boys in front of him curiously. He remained nonchalantly poised but his eyes were glittering with wonder as Barty grew more irate. It lasted a moment before he took a step back. “Enjoy the rest of the party, boys. I’ll be seeing you, Black”
Crouch nodded to them and turned on his heel, disappearing into the crowd and leaving his son fuming in his wake. Suddenly neither felt like dancing anymore.