Chapter Text
Classes resumed the next day. Headmaster Dumbledore announced that, although the murderer had not been caught and school had to resume, the investigation was still ongoing. With security still so tight, Regulus and his friends decided to put off their fight night for a bit longer. It didn’t help the burning in his chest or the private humiliation of praising Sirius’ friends.
They worked on the map every spare moment they had. They went deep into the night with the dictionary, and in the morning as he donned his robes, Regulus tested out various latin phrases off the top of his head.
The map, or rather, Mr. Moony, Mr. Prongs, Mr. Padfoot, and Mr. Wormtail, didn’t respond to a single word or phrase Regulus, Evan, Barty, or Mary threw out. They’d gotten up to the S’s of the dictionary.
Most of class was spent dodging suspicion and dodging hexes from Sirius’ group. James Potter, Sirius, and Peter Pettigrew were terrible with them, always finding Regulus in the halls between class, during free periods, even throwing a few quick stinging hexes through open doors to hit his back when he was answering questions. Which meant they were skipping. Which meant Regulus, obviously, made a report to McGonagall as a terribly concerned friend that his best mates, Potter, Pettigrew, and Sirius, were missing from class, and he was just so worried after what happened to Mulciber.
Regulus wasn’t sure if they got detention, but they weren’t at dinner. Only Lupin was.
Lupin was the worst.
He didn’t curse them. He didn’t hex them. He didn’t even talk to or threaten them.
He just looked at Regulus with these sad, pitying eyes. Every so often, he’d look up from the book he was reading at dinner, and just shake his head. Like he was disappointed.
Regulus would’ve preferred to be hexed. It stung a bit too much, seeing Lupin stare like he had a thousand things to say, and no belief left in Regulus that it would do any good. It was that, Regulus supposed. The lack of belief. Lupin used to have a bit of misplaced hope to him, awkward smiles and attempts to talk to Regulus every so often, trying to see him as something better than he really was. That belief died somewhere between Lupin stalking him and accusing him of being manipulated, and Regulus stealing a highly advanced, charmed, map.
Regulus liked to think his sin was the lesser of them. Lupin was just petty.
“Solder. Soldier. Soldiery. Soldiering.” Mary’s bored, deadpan voice droned on through the dorm room, steadily going down the list of words in Barty’s dictionary and crossing out the ones that gained no reaction from the map. Her list reading was occasionally disrupted by her reading aloud the notes Barty had scrawled in the margins, which were usually not words, just crudely drawn dicks. Barty, to his defense, did not expect the dictionary to be used this much.
Regulus had divination homework out in front of him. Mary would be stuck for a while reading words, and he didn’t want her to fall behind because of something out of her control. He agreed to steal the map, not her. If she wanted, she could’ve left the dorm room and the fallout behind, knowing for a fact that Regulus would never rat her out, and she would be able to live life without him in it to draw in enemies. Evan and Barty were in the same boat, though a bit more recognizable, so it was less likely Snape wouldn’t be able to identify them in a trial.
The problem was, Regulus really didn’t understand divination. At least not the divination homework in front of him. Palmistry didn’t make any sense. He had Evan’s hand in front of him as an example, to draw out the lines on a parchment and decode them, and even with a guide open on his crossed leg, it just looked like a hand. He poked Evan’s palm.
“Is that helping?” Evan asked blankly, raising a singular eyebrow.
“Yeah,” Regulus lied. It was just lines. Just creases caused by the general movement of a hand and the structure of it. He pointed to one of the lines, the one that looked shortest, but may have just been skin texture. “This one is your life line. It means you’re going to die soon.”
“Reg, that’s a papercut.”
“Hm.” Regulus noted down that Evan’s lifespan was incredibly short. “Also, you have no line of health. How sad.”
Barty snorted, dropping the ball he’d been tossing up at the ceiling right in his face.
“Sole. Solesism. Solely.” Mary listed louder, sending a glare at them. Regulus cleared his throat and returned to faking her handwriting. “Solemn-- Oh!” Mary jumped up, frantically waving them over. The divination homework was a thing of distant past as he ran up, sliding to a halt at the edge of his desk. The beginnings of a title started to appear, a swooping, fancy ‘Mar’ before it faded back into yellowed parchment. Barty cheered, pumping his fist in the air and tackling Evan in a celebratory hug. Regulus put a hand on Mary’s shoulder, the loudest congratulations he could bring himself to give with the knowledge of what came next.
The restarting of the dictionary. Unless they could just guess it. “Calm down,” Regulus said, though his lips quirked up at the edges. “We still need to figure out the rest of the password.” Which could’ve been paragraphs long, or even just random words strung together picked in a roulette wheel.
On second thought, that group wouldn’t be able to memorize full paragraphs, let alone recite them perfectly any time they needed to use the map.
“What comes after ‘solemn’? That’s not very common,” Mary muttered, tapping her quill against the page. It indicated an amount of seriousness and calm that Sirius and Potter would never use. And there weren’t many sentences that started with the word ‘solemn’.
“Is it ‘solemn’ like an oath?” Barty cut in, completely hanging off of Evan like a koala. They both swayed, a bit off-balance, and Evan grabbed the back of Mary’s chair to keep upright under their combined weight. He was strong, but Barty was a whole separate person, and couldn’t stay still for his life. “That’s the kinda thing they say in court. ‘I do solemnly swear blah blah blah’. It’s in every transcript.”
Mary wrote it down in the Occlumency book for record keeping -- Regulus felt a bit bad for whoever the author was -- and recited it. “I do solemnly swear.” More of the fancy writing appeared as she spoke, revealing more of, what he assumed to be, the title. ‘Marau’. She turned to them with a big grin. “What do you think we’re swearing to?”
Figuring it out from there was quicker than finding the first word. At some point, the ‘do’ of the sentence phased out, as it seemed to be unneeded for the map’s activation, and was replaced by tens of other suggestions at the end. They tried every word thrice. ‘I solemnly swear to’ and ‘I solemnly swear I am’ and ‘I solemnly swear not to’ had very different meanings, and they didn’t want to miss an answer because they weren’t thorough enough.
The dictionary ended up sliced in fourths. Each of them got 108 pages, give or take some, and recited the sentences all at once, surrounding the map.
It was four in the morning when they got it. All of their sections were put together with surprisingly mundane words to complete the password, none of them got the entire thing without adding the others pieces.
Regulus placed his hands on the map, on the desk, relishing in the stability to keep him from swaying. He needed sleep. He hadn’t had a good night of sleep in forever, maybe months, and his brain was absolutely fried. The combination of a migraine and a sore throat from reciting one fourth of every word in a dictionary was an awful one he would only curse on his worst enemies. The cold night air, seeping into the dungeon stones, soothed his burning throat when he breathed in. He set his wand down, the tip briefly glancing the pages.“I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”
The map doused itself immediately in ink, patterns tracing, drawing, scrawling, everywhere, everything. And in the dead center of the folded up page, was an intricate drawing of the castle from a birds-eye view, the center blacked out, and titled, “The Marauder’s Map.”
Regulus could finally breathe right. He’d gotten in. He’d bested Sirius, and Potter, and Lupin and Pettigrew. He won.
Mary smoothed a hand over the paper, gently, reverently. They’d spent so much time working on cracking the code, it was enough to make them cry of relief. She lifted it up to the wall. It covered Regulus’ newspaper cutouts from view.
“Do you think they meant ‘Marauders’’?”
Regulus didn’t dream that night. He suspected he didn’t have the mental energy to, that it had all been exhausted by brute forcing a bunch of teenagers' cocky password. They all skipped breakfast to trace the entirety of the map onto a duplicated stretch of blank, thin paper, taping it down at the corners, and labelling it just as it was written. They sketched out the secret passageways, scrawled the passwords to them at the entrances, and where “Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs” was written, they replaced it with their names.
And then they scratched “Messrs’ out after Mary pointed out it was only for men. Regulus was too embarrassed to admit he didn’t actually know what “Messrs” meant in the first place, and ended up implying he forgot she was a girl.
They replaced it with “Messrs and Ms.”, but only after Mary hit him on the head.
It was perfect. And finished just in time for them to get to class. They didn’t even bother cleaning up, only grabbing both maps and sending dictionary pages, broken quills, and ink scattering in their wake. Their mission was nearly complete. All they had to do was find Severus Snape.
And lucky Regulus, he had potions with Snape.
Regulus cornered Snape before class, while Evan and Barty ran diversions against Sirius’ friends. They ended up in an alcove just a hall away from class, where Regulus had dragged the taller boy by the sleeve into and covered his mouth until the coast was clear. Snape had just enough self-perseverence to not curse Regulus the second he was grabbed, otherwise they’d both be in a heap of trouble. They waited until Evan and Barty drew James and Sirius’ attention away, racing in the opposite direction of class, their footsteps growing fainter and fainter until they disappeared.
Regulus pulled away with a smirk, wiping his hand on his pant leg, feeling like he’d just gotten to the end of a marathon. Sirius lost, Regulus won. He didn’t even need to gloat; everyone who mattered knew it. “You wanted the map, right?” Regulus asked redundantly, relishing in his own success. It was a headrush to be at the finish line.
With a tilt of his head, Snape’s black hair laid in his eyes in a stringy mess, millions of little snakes curling across his skin. He studied Regulus for a moment and he considered, maybe, Snape was straining for any glamor or deafening charms to hint at a trap. Finally, an eyebrow raised, and he nodded. “I do. Are you having trouble?”
Fighting the urge to laugh, Regulus got away with just a snort. “Not at all,” he said, fully aware of how painfully smug his voice came off as. He slung his bag over his shoulder, set it on the ground, and pulled the folded up map from its confines. It was still activated, all the contents displayed on its creased surface, and they hadn’t been able to figure out how to return it to its locked up state. It wasn’t their problem. Regulus wouldn’t be able to convince Mary to go through that dictionary again without being strangled, and he wasn’t exactly keen on taking her place, either. Barty and Evan were out of the question. They were nearly dead by the time they figured out the password. Regulus held the map out to Snape, pinched between two fingers like a piece of trash. “The password to activate it is, ‘I solemnly swear I am up to no good.’”
“You actually got it?” Snape took the map slowly, like he didn’t fully trust it was real. Flipping it open with the sound of rustling paper, his eyes tracked its entirety, scanning up and down the hundreds of thin, black lines, and landing on finally on the names in the center. Padfoot, Prongs, Moony, and Wormtail. Strangely, it looked like he mouthed the word ‘Moony’ under his breath, but Regulus couldn't be certain. The guy was just as obsessed with Sirius’ friends as they were with him. The less Regulus knew, the better.
“Of course. I told you I’d have it for you within a week.” Regulus paused, his arrogant smile faltering in place of his everpresent distrust. “Did you not think I could do it?” What, then, would he have done? It was insulting that he didn’t think Regulus could steal it, but it was worse that he’d given the task in the first place.
Snape folded the map to its smallest squares and tucked it somewhere within his robes, disappearing from sight in a swath of black fabric. It swished a bit when he shrugged, as if it truly was inconsequential to him. “I knew it was a very slim chance.” He smoothed out his cloak, even though it was devoid of wrinkles anyway. Snape didn’t have the most money, as far as Regulus knew, but he knew enough spells to make up for it. No one would be able to tell from his clothes or possessions. Most everything could be transfigured or charmed. “I’m impressed.”
The same burst of heat that flared in his cheeks and chest that came alive any time he was praised reared its ugly, embarrassing head, and Regulus looked away, if only to save face. He didn’t care what Snape thought about him.
Still, it felt nice to hear. Snape was smart, it was pretty much the only thing he had going for him. If he was impressed by Regulus, he must’ve really done something amazing.
“You’ll hold up your side of the deal, then?” Regulus asked, just when Snape was starting to leave the alcove, only having taken two steps before stopping.
He turned to Regulus, then, with a strange look in his eyes that Regulus couldn’t even begin to name. It wasn’t anything he’d seen before. Paired with a completely impassive face, he couldn’t discern anything else, couldn’t identify that strangeness with context clues. It made something shrivel up in his stomach. “I was never going to tell anyone, Black,” Snape said. “I know you’re not a killer. Not really.”
Regulus’ mind blanked.
Snape left.
Regulus couldn’t move in time to stop him. He couldn’t open his mouth to yell, to ask questions, to demand answers. He was stuck, rooted to the tile in that stupid alcove, staring at the space Snape left behind.
Mulciber’s group hadn’t harassed him once since his last meeting with Snape. That was the worst part. That Snape meant it, that he wasn’t lying, that he hadn’t gone back on his word even if the threat of it was fake from the very beginning. That Snape was never going to hold it against him.
He didn’t want Snape to be good. He wanted Snape to fade back into the background, only coming up in conversations about Lily Evans and James Potter, only sitting next to Regulus when there were no more seats. Regulus didn’t want to hate him, he didn’t want to know him at all.
It was too close. The leniency, the trust, the belief, he hated it.
And he hated, deeply and nauseatingly, that he’d believed Snape the first time and let himself be manipulated like that. So easily, in just one meeting, like a child. He did everything Snape said without questioning his intentions, believing him at his word, like that had ever mattered in the first place. Like Regulus had to be scared of him.
Regulus got the map, made a copy, fulfilled the deal, and he still felt like he’d lost.
The Slug Club, in insensitive fashion, still held a meeting that night. When questioned why, only a few days after a student was found murdered, did a social club need to take place, Slughorn responded with claims of house unity and keeping spirits up in times of darkness. Regulus suspected it was simply because he didn’t want to reschedule for the guests.
As much as he was remiss to not be there, he left the knockoff Marauder’s Map with Evan, Barty, and Mary. While he attended the mind-numbing socializations of the Slug Club, they got to gallavant around in the secret passageways and figure out how the passwords could be used. Mary especially needed a break from squeezing her brain for answers, and he figured it would be fun to explore a bit without fear or headaches. Regulus already had his first experience with a secret passageway from detention, so it was only fair they did too.
The dress code for the night was lax, casual, and had Regulus trying to find something to wear that wasn’t his school robes or overly fancy. He ended up in the same outfit he’d worn to Hogsmeade, with its Victorian style patterns and frills, and pressed slacks. Regulus still wasn’t quite sure what ‘casual’ meant in a very prestigious club - at least, as prestigious of a club that Hogwarts could manage. Barty’s idea of casual, a graphic band tee and jorts, which Regulus planned on burning one day, would never pass there, and Evan didn’t have clothes in Regulus’ size. It was the best he could manage.
Oddly, when Regulus entered the decked out office that served as their meeting space, he didn’t spot Remus Lupin in any of the chairs. Snape sat with Lily Evans at the table, both of them whispering amongst themselves, while Avery had his head down next to Snape. He looked miserable. Or asleep. Regulus couldn’t tell. There were a few witches and wizards seating, a few milling about, none of them recognizable as people Regulus wanted to get close to. It would be harder to pick his seat that way, without the prior knowledge of who he wanted to endear himself to, and who he wanted to stay away from.
Regulus sighed out his nose, mentally preparing himself for a useless conversation he’d have to smile and laugh through, and nearly choked when a hand landed heavy on his shoulder. It was only through the knowledge that he wouldn’t be murdered in a room full of witches and wizards that kept him from pulling his wand. Slowly, as calmly as he could, Regulus tilted his head to look back, from the hand, to the arm, to the face.
“Hello, Lucius,” Regulus greeted.
Lucius Malfoy stood in his usual dark robes, always having to be decked out to the fullest, holding his family’s heirloom cane like he could beat someone with it. His hair had gotten longer than the last Regulus had seen it, at a summer party for some relatives' birthdays. Not one of Regulus’ relatives, but one of Lucius’, and therefore one of Narcissa’s. It was a long line of relatives to non-relatives that Regulus hadn’t bothered to follow.
Regulus didn’t know what to make of Lucius. He’d married Regulus’ cousin two years ago, and integrated into the family like he’d always been there. Everyone had no problem with it, and so Regulus was expected to follow suit, but Lucius always struck Regulus as odd. There was nothing outright alarming about him, nothing Regulus could pinpoint, so he never brought it up.
“Regulus,” Lucius addressed, as he never just said something, he had to drag it out and make it sound important, “I thought that was you. You never told me you were in any clubs.” He said ‘clubs’ like it was a joke, though Regulus didn’t know what was so funny. He still allowed a slight smirk to form, like he was in on it. He always had to make his expressions more blatant around distant family members, the twist of his lips an almost extreme copy of his usual smile. His mother, his father, Narcissa, and Bellatrix could always tell perfectly, while everyone else seemed to see no change at all. His cheeks always hurt from smiling too hard after gatherings.
“Yes, sir.” Regulus felt the eyes of his schoolmates snap to him, burning the back of his head. As much as it pained him, Lucius was older and more respectable than Regulus, and it was only proper to address him as such. He dreamed of the day he’d never have to say the words ‘Sir’ or ‘Miss’ or ‘Madam’ again. When he’d be powerful enough the idea of referring to others as higher than him would be downright laughable. Those titles had to be earned, though, and if he ever wanted to get there, he had to bide his time and wait. “I’ve met many interesting people here. I was honored to have been scouted.”
Lucius hummed his approval, or acknowledgment, or even just to fill the dead silence that struck the room. Evans and Snape had stopped whispering, clearly listening in, even if he couldn’t turn to look at them to confirm. The guests took part in gazing at Regulus and Lucius like gawkers at the zoo, as if they’d never seen two family members in the same spot at the same time before. Lucius brushed his hair over his shoulder and stepped forward, forcing Regulus to pivot quickly to avoid getting hit. Maybe that was it, the thing that bothered him about Lucius Malfoy. He acted as if others only existed when he wanted them to. Regulus didn't just cease to exist the moment Lucius stopped looking.
Then again, he might’ve just been inattentive. It wasn’t impossible; Narcissa was over attentive, maybe they balanced each other out. Regulus wouldn’t doubt his dear cousin's choice in partner.
“Regulus,” he called, a bit too loud for the room and the distance, “come.” Like a dog.
And Regulus followed, like a dog.
Regulus sat next to Lucius at the table, the other side of Evans, and pretended not to feel her eyes searing his cheek. It occurred to Regulus that Lucius was using him as a buffer between mudbloods, as Slughorn was due to sit in the other chair next to him. That would’ve always bothered Regulus, but now it was for a different reason. He didn’t mind sitting next to mudbloods, but he did mind sitting next to Lily Evans, and he did mind Lucius’ flawed belief.
He said nothing about it.
Lucius reclined in his seat like an emperor, looking so above such meaningless meetings for schoolchildren, and Regulus felt inclined to remind him that although Lucius was the adult and heir of his family, he’d still ended up coming to the meeting instead of being anywhere else that night. He didn’t, as he didn’t want to get hit in front of other students and have word get back to his mother. Lucius tapped the table idly, drumming his fingers in a pattern, his many rings glinting in the light. “I heard about what happened,” he suddenly said, looking off across the decorated classroom. Nothing else in the room held Lucius’ interest, Reguljus guessed. “A terrible shame. Mulciber’s son was headed for great things.”
Regulus nodded, because there wasn’t much else to do. With Evans watching, he couldn’t elaborate on what ‘great things’ meant, or properly process the fact that Mulciber’s death had made it all the way to the Malfoys. All he had to work with was the facts he could tell, and not even his own opinions. “He’ll be missed,” Regulus said, though he would not be one of the ones grieving. A few seats down, Avery’s head raised and fixed Regulus with a horrible glare. Snape met the eyes of Lucius, and they nodded to each other, Snape mouthing the word ‘later’.
They were friends, Regulus remembered, before Lucius graduated. Snape wasn’t invited anywhere, even as a family friend, but Narcissa told him those two were close outside of arranged meetings. It went against Lucius’ blood purity beliefs, but Snape was a good enough wizard for it to cease being a problem. Which was utter nonsense; either blood mattered, or it didn’t. Lucius didn’t get to just believe both, and choose which one when it suited him best.
It wasn’t any of his business. Lucius was five, maybe six years older than Regulus, and even if it wasn’t enough in most families to warrant that much respect, it was in the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. Regulus didn’t get to ask questions. If there was anything he needed to know, an older member of the family would tell him without needing prompting.
That was the one rule Regulus didn’t like about his family, other than the obvious restrictions on interacting with mudbloods. He was naturally curious. Most of his corrections came from his own mouth, forgetting his place and asking for information that wasn’t handed to him. There was so much he wanted to know, so much he had to know to make it to the Dark Lord’s side, and there were people who knew things he didn’t, right in front of him!
But it was rude to ask, so Regulus focused on the scar in his tongue, digging his teeth into the flesh, deep. Until it hurt through the scar tissue.
Lucius hummed, still not looking at Regulus at all, like he hardly existed. “Yes, well. More attention on those who matter, now, with his admirers left wanting.” He waved his hand in a grand gesture, and dark red wine bubbled up into the awaiting glass in front of him. Tilting it to his lips, he drank small sips, swirling it in his hand. Regulus didn’t remind him that they were on school grounds, where drinking was discouraged. Slughorn, who he saw by the door and greeting a guest, wasn’t going to say anything, either. Nobody in the room would. “Perhaps if he’d gotten better grades in his Defence class, he’d still have a chance.” Regulus bit back an undignified snort of amusement, trading it for a light chuckle, practiced and even and regal.
“That’s horrible,” Evans scolded, leaning in to look over Regulus and to Lucius, disgust painted all across her face. “He was murdered! Have some decency!” She glowered at both of them, and Regulus only returned it once he checked that Lucius wasn’t looking at his face, and instead at Lily Evans’.
That didn’t make him very comfortable, either. He didn’t like Evans, but he didn’t really want Lucius’ attention on her either. It was a very dangerous thing, to be noticed by Lucius Malfoy. There were rumors, both in school and at home, that he’d poisoned a mudblood teacher into retirement. He wasn’t sure how true it was, as it ranged from the teacher being a mudblood, to just being a supporter, and the teacher dying or retiring or being fired, with many discrepancies, but every rumor had a bit of truth to it, and Regulus didn’t want to find out which part was true. He didn’t want Evans to find out which part was true.
She was annoying, and meddlesome, and grated on his nerves, but since Mulciber’s death, Regulus realized he didn’t actually enjoy his enemies dying, and Evans was more of a vague rival. It wasn’t grounds for death.
Lucius raised a brow and put on his version of a polite smile, which screamed that he was judging Evans. “Of course. How rude of me,” he muttered, with no small amount of disdain. Regulus met Evans' eyes again, and barely kept himself from wincing at the questioning glance she gave him. She wouldn’t understand, she didn’t grow up in his family. Merlin, the fact she even interrupted in the first place made it clear enough that she didn’t know a thing about Lucius or the House of Black. Lucius didn’t look at Regulus when addressing him. “Regulus, are you going to introduce us? Or just sit there?”
Regulus clenched his jaw. Eyes were on him. He could feel it. He swallowed his bile and pride and put on a pleasant smile, as much as he could with his teeth grit. “Lucius, this is Lily Evans. She’s two grades above me. A gryffindor.” It hit him, then, that he’d never actually properly talked with Evans. He didn’t know enough about her to introduce her properly. Regulus sat a bit straighter. “Evans, this is Lucius Malfoy.”
Evans scoffed, and Regulus felt the need to shake her by the shoulders and tell her all the cursed items Lucius probably carried on his person daily, and tell her that he would not even hesitate to use them on her. He clenched his hands in the fabric of his pants, hidden by the table. Evans didn’t take his silent message. “I don’t care who he is. Neither of you should talk about the dead like that.”
Lucius took a drink of his wine, reclining into his seat. “Perhaps things are different in mudblood families, but our priorities lie with our own. It is a tragedy, an avoidable one, but one that benefits us.” He smiled without an inch of warmth. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy one less academic competitor, too.”
Regulus kept his head forward, his back straight, and his eyes on the table. Neither of them were really talking to him, anyway, just over him. Near him. It was Evans’ sudden compassion for a Slytherin who tormented her friend, against Lucius’ general disdain for anyone with mixed blood and a lack of respect. Regulus was just caught in the crossfire.
It was like that at family dinners and parties, too. Everyone was older than him, making conversations difficult, and until Sirius left, there wasn’t much reason to talk to him at all. He wasn’t the heir back then, just an accident. People tried to converse with him until they realized he wasn’t very entertaining, and would resort to conversing around him, as if it were the same thing.
And so it made him jolt, physically flinch, when Evans’ voice suddenly cut through his apathy and dragged him back in. Because that wasn’t supposed to happen. She was meant to argue with Lucius and dig her own grave, on her own, without any input from Regulus. He’d already left the conversation, tuning it out. It was over.
But with just a few words, he was back. It shocked him bad enough his elbow hit the table. “What?” He asked dumbly, glancing from Evans to his side, where he knew Lucius was staring down at him like scum.
“I said, weren’t you two friends? You and Mulciber. Before the game, I mean,” Evans said.
Regulus blinked rapidly, still reeling. The conversation went on without him. It was over. Regulus was done. Why was Evans still addressing him?
Lucius snapped his fingers twice, and Regulus gave him his attention, as he was supposed to. His neck cracked somewhere with his quick he turned it. “What game? What--”
Slughorn took his seat next to Lucius and clapped his hands once, giving the entire table a full smile and quieting any ongoing conversations. Regulus could’ve sobbed in relief. Instead, he just shut his mouth with a clack of his teeth, took a slow, deep breath, and pretended he couldn’t feel two pairs of eyes boring holes into his skull. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen! I know things are tense right now, what with all the goings on in the castle, but that doesn't mean we have to let it derail everything! Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedules to attend, my esteemed guests, and feel free to mingle as we eat!” Slughorn announced jovially, being met with broad smiles from most of the guests, and strained ones from the students. Regulus copied them, finding a nice middle that didn’t look too unnatural on his face, as long as the viewers didn’t know him too well. The guests usually didn’t. He wasn’t quite sure how to act with Lucius and Slughorn in the same room. “My elves have prepared a delicious meal for us all tonight. I hope you enjoy!”
WIth a grand gesture, elves popped into existence around them, carrying plates upon plates of food Regulus knew he wasn’t going to eat. The table quickly filled with countless platters, and Regulus gave the elves he made eye contact with a brief, soft smile. He hoped they knew he appreciated the effort, even if he couldn’t stomach the food. Regulus always missed Kreacher, but it was in the Slug Club with the elves, or in the kitchens, that he really felt the absence of his friend. All the elves of the castle were nice, but Regulus always noted the absence of Kreacher’s rough voice and pointed glares. Kreacher wasn’t as friendly as the castle elves, or the others at home, and Regulus liked that. It was comfortable, familiar.
Or maybe Regulus just liked him better because he’d grown up with him. Regulus never knew a world without Kreacher in it. That might’ve caused a bit of a bias.
A female elf magicked a plate of a full turkey to slide across the table to the center, standing between him and Lucius as she did so. She smiled back at him when they locked eyes. The smile turned to a pained, screwed up expression when a heavy cane hit her chest, sending her stumbling back from the table.
“Don’t dally around,” Lucius hissed, and Regulus realized with a start he was talking to the elf. Ordering her, more like. When she hesitated, he knocked her back again, enough for the resounding smack to echo in Regulus’ ears, and for the elf to cry out in pain.
Regulus only realized he was standing when his chair scraped to a stop on the wooden floor. He only realized his fists were clenched when his nails broke skin. He only realized when it was too late to stop himself. Any conversations dropped to a hush, and he knew without looking that he’d drawn the attention of the room to himself, and worst of all, he’d drawn Lucius’ attention.
Lucius, who looked up at him for once, only by a bit. He was so tall, and Regulus wasn’t, but he savored the few inches he had on the man while he could. His hand was still on his cane. Regulus knew how much it hurt to be hit with it. “Something the matter, Regulus?” Lucius drawled, slow and challenging, daring him to speak.
Regulus’ unfounded confidence faltered. Everyone was watching. If he did anything, it would certainly get back to his mother. His mother didn’t share his opinions on elves. He opened his mouth, and no sound came out. He tried again. Forced it out. “I have to go to the restroom,” Regulus muttered.
He left before anyone could question him. On his way, he slipped his wand into his hand and muttered a minor healing spell on the elf as he passed, praying to gods he didn’t believe in that nobody would see.
Once out in the hallway, he sprinted to the nearest restroom, slammed the door shut, and pressed his back against the wall. With the cold seeping in through his Victorian shirt, he could finally breathe.
And with the air came an overwhelming shame.
Regulus had spent months fighting in that forest, against his own spells and then against Barty, Mary, and Evan. He was the schools’ youngest and best Seeker. He was at the top of all his classes, he jumped a few grades in some of them, and he was on his way to ace every test in his life. He was going to join the Dark Lord, become a Death Eater, at the youngest age he could, because he was special and remarkable and powerful. He mastered Occlumency with just a book and his own willpower.
And he couldn’t bring himself to stand up to Lucius Malfoy. Over an elf.
Regulus was still too weak to talk back.
Regulus dragged a hand over his face, wiping away sweat and wishing he could wipe away his shame.
He nearly scratched his own eye out when the door swung open, with enough force to hit the adjacent wall with a loud bang. Regulus startled, scrambling for his wand to point at the intruder, and came face to face with Lily Evans. Strangely, she looked just as shocked as Regulus.
They didn’t say anything for a good twenty seconds as Regulus’ heart beat out of his chest. Evans kept the door open with her foot, and Regulus kept his wand pointed at her neck.
“This is the boy’s restroom,” Regulus pointed out.
Evans stepped forward, Regulus stepped back, to the side, and the door closed behind her. Regulus was acutely aware that the only exit was out of reach, and the only people who knew where he was were in the Slug Club, and certainly wouldn’t come after him if they realized something was amiss. Evans had him cornered, sliding his back against the wall as he moved, and as much as he hated her, she probably had the upper hand with magic. She examined him like a predator, but Regulus didn’t feel the fear running through his veins like it did when Mucliber gave him that look.
Even though he was alone, he wasn’t afraid. Either he was getting stronger, or he’d finally cracked.
“What the hell was that?” Evans said, slicing through the air. She had so much emotion in her voice that it made Regulus uncomfortable. No wonder she and Mary were friends. They wore their hearts on their sleeves.
Regulus swallowed, glancing away. “I don’t know what you mean, but you really shouldn’t be in here,” he hissed, mustering up as much confidence as he could. The confrontation was his main problem, but he also felt he should remind her that it was the boys restroom, and she really shouldn’t have entered.
“‘Regulus, come.’ ‘Regulus, introduce us,’” Evans quoted, with more ferocity in his name than in Lucius’ entire life. She looked furious, cheeks heated with her anger, and gesturing wildly with a sort of mocking twinge to her voice. “‘Yes, Sir’.” She paused, giving him an astonished look. “Sir? Yes, Sir ? Fucking ‘Sir’ ?! That whole thing with the elf-- I saw you, don’t try to deny it.” Regulus shut his mouth. “For Lucius Malfoy, of all people?!”
Regulus found his own cheeks burned, with the humiliation of being seen, even if it was only giving the respect an elder member of his family deserved. It always made him feel wrong, doing that, embarrassed, but it was just respect. It was the right thing to do, even if it wasn’t the common thing.
It was only that bad because he didn’t like Lucius, he reminded himself. Tradition and respect wasn’t flawed, it was just that Lucius was new, and Regulus wasn’t used to it yet.
“It’s basic respect, Evans,” Regulus said, straightening himself out and trying to look presentable. This wasn’t how he was meant to act. He had to keep his spine straight, his head forward, and Merlin, he hadn’t even changed his hair back to all black--
“Oh, bullshit. There’s no way you respect that guy. You looked seconds away from hitting him like he hit that elf,” Evans shot back. Like him, she talked differently without anyone around to impress. Her voice was louder, her word choice less eloquent, everything about her bolder and interspersed with curse words that would have Regulus’ mother washing his mouth with soap if he ever uttered them around her. Regulus never considered that any of the others in the Slug Club could’ve been acting like he was. “And then you ran. And I’m not leaving until you tell me what that was about.”
Regulus grimaced. Evans really meant it, too, with the way she planted her feet like she was prepared to take a tackle. He considered cursing her with a body binding spell and leaving her, but he was conscientious enough to know that leaving a frozen girl in a boy’s bathroom wouldn’t look good for him.
James Potter might hunt him down, too. Again. Still.
“Lucius married my cousin,” Regulus explained slowly, like he were talking to a child. “And he is older and more skilled. Therefore, I refer to him with that in mind. Honestly, Evans, it’s not that complicated.”
Evans studied him, arms crossed, green eyes piercing right through him. “He’s just a cousin-in-law, but you can’t even say ‘no’ to him?”
Regulus gnawed on the inside of his cheek. Evans was just so intense, and he hated having all her attention on him so suddenly, after so long of only interacting with her in full rooms across tables. It was uncomfortable. “Of course I can.” He paused. "If it's needed.”
Evans raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
“It means I trust his judgment and decisions.”
“Because he’s older and more skilled.”
“Exactly.”
Evans grinned like she’d won. “Then why did you get mad when he hit the elf?”
Mad? Was that what he felt? Regulus hadn’t felt much of anything when it happened. The burning was there, in his chest, but he hadn’t had a single thought when he stood up and clenched his hands into fists. He wasn’t thinking that he wanted to help, or that he wanted Lucius to stop. He wasn’t thinking that the elf was hurt, and for no reason at all. Regulus hadn't thought at all. It was just the burning.
He couldn’t explain the burning to Evans, how it sometimes made him do stupid things, like start fight nights with his friends where they beat each other up in the forest, or punch Mulciber in a stadium full of on-lookers. She wouldn’t understand, and Regulus didn’t want to tell her. But there wasn’t any better explanation.
His teeth found the indent in his tongue. He bit down, just to taste his own blood for a bit, to have something familiar and real. When he let go, he could think a bit clearer. “It was useless,” he decided. “It was a waste of time and didn’t need to happen. Nobody gained anything from it. I don’t like useless things.”
Evans nodded slowly, a hint of a smile gracing her face. “If I didn’t know Sirius, I’d think you were genuine there. You really care, don’t you?”
Regulus stiffened. He raised his chin, glaring up at Evans-- up, why was it always up? Why could he not be the tall one for once, looking down? “Never compare me to him again.”
“No thanks. I’ll do what I want, Black.”
Regulus felt like he’d been slapped. It sounded spoiled when he thought it, but people didn’t usually tell him ‘no’. Not so outright. It was almost unnatural to hear, and he had the urge to ask her to repeat herself, just so he could confirm that he wasn’t hallucinating. It just wasn’t a thing that happened, especially after demanding someone to stop talking about Sirius.
“In fact, I’m going to be keeping a close eye on you from now on,” Evans continued. “And honestly, you should be glad that’s all I’m doing.”
“Glad you’re stalking me?” Regulus spat, regaining his senses, even if half his brain was still stuck on ‘no’.
Evans scoffed. “Glad I’m not making this more public, more like.” She stepped forward, and there was nowhere else for Regulus to step back into. His grip tightened around his wand. “I don’t trust you. I think you’re a terrible person. You’re a blood purist asshole who hexes anyone who gets in your way. You follow like a dog after anyone you think is powerful. And most of all, you’re a coward, and I don’t believe you’ll ever change.” She tilted her head, the blatant hatred on her face crumbling into something more disappointed, more hesitant. “But, Mary likes you. And you don’t like it when elves are hurt, which, honestly, if you applied to humans too, would be great, but it’s a start.”
“A start?” Regulus still wasn’t quite sure what was happening. He felt like he was seven again, trying to make sense of his cousin's talks of politics and grades and trying to figure out what the difference between a Ministry Official and an actual Minister was.
“I can’t keep you from being friends with Mary, but I can try to keep her safe,” Evans went on, completely ignoring him. “And now I know you won’t do what you want if someone more powerful is around. And you might have the barest bit of a heart, somewhere. Just not for people.”
Regulus sucked in a breath, lip curling against his will. “You think you’re more powerful than me?”
“I know I am,” Evans said. “Do you want to test it?”
Merlin, no. Regulus was already so off-balance, a bit sleep deprived, and in a nice shirt he didn’t want to sully with blood. And there was no way he was going to duel Lily Evans in a bathroom. He didn’t even really do duels, much preferring underhanded tactics and working behind the scenes. He was out of practice with magic, and something told him Evans wasn’t. Regulus cleared his throat. “We have to get back soon,” he said, instead of admitting his imminent defeat.
Evans heard the silent admission anyway, looking smug as all hell. “Good choice. Remember, I’m keeping an eye on you, alright? And I will kick your ass if you hurt Mary.” She walked back to the bathroom door, yanking it open with far too much force, and then paused. She didn’t look at Regulus. “You shouldn’t let Lucius boss you around. Screw manners. He doesn’t respect you, so you shouldn’t respect him.”
She left Regulus with that, with a concept so foreign to him he felt like he was drowning. The concept that he could choose who he respected in his family. That he could choose not to respect someone he was told to.
Regulus returned five minutes later, taking a seat between Evans and Lucius. Nobody mentioned his near outburst from earlier. He didn't eat, but he did thank the elves quietly when they took away his empty plate.
In the hallway, after everyone left for the night, Regulus hung back with Lucius. He hadn’t been dismissed yet. Lucius smoothed his hair down, preening himself like a bird, while Regulus stood with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Shock of all shocks, I didn’t actually come here to socialize,” Lucius said, pulling a small letter from his pocket. He held it out to Regulus. “Here. Deliver this for me.”
Regulus took it gingerly, reading the front. It was addressed to one Charles Avery, sealed with wax pressed into the emblem of a snake and a skull. The calling of Death Eaters. His face drained of color. “He’s being personally invited,” Regulus murmured, shaking his head. That couldn’t be. Avery wasn’t supposed to get anything before Regulus, not when Regulus worked so much harder and deserved it so much more.
It wasn’t a secret that Lucius was a Death Eater, people just didn’t talk about it. It wasn’t dinner party conversation worthy. And Regulus couldn’t ask questions, so it didn't matter much to him, anyway. Once Regulus joins, he might be able to use that and his relation to Bellatrix as leverage to climb the ranks, but before that, it was useless information.
What wasn’t useless was the knowledge that Lucius didn’t know what Avery looked like. He could’ve handed the letter to Avery in the club meeting, but it was up to Regulus, instead. Which meant Lucius didn’t know him.
Regulus already knew what he was going to do with that letter.
“That he is,” Lucius confirmed lazily, taking a glance at his watch. “I’d best be going now.” He set his cane on the floor, and paused. He looked at Regulus, then, really looked at him, not just around him or through him. It was just as awful, being looked at so closely, like Lucius was dissecting him piece by piece. “You’ll want to fix your hair before you go home,” Lucius advised. Regulus forced himself not to flinch when Lucius brought his cane up, when the silver fangs of the decorative snake head pressed into the bridge of his nose with a slight bonk. “And this.”
“Yes, sir,” Regulus agreed, and Lucius left in a sweep of his robes, without a single goodbye. Regulus touched the bridge of his nose, where a distinct bump formed. His broken nose healed like all of them did, when left without medical attention, crooked and protruding. He didn’t want to get rid of it. It was a physical reminder of fighting with Barty and Evan.
He’d have to, though. It wasn’t up to him.
“What a prick,” Barty said, stepping out from behind a corner. Evan and Mary followed suit, voicing their agreements. Regulus saved his exasperation. He didn’t like Lucius very much at the moment either.
“Could you burn this for me?” Regulus asked, handing the letter to Barty. It shot up in flames not a moment later, and he watched it burn until it was just ash coating Barty’s fingers. Avery wouldn’t be getting that letter, not from Regulus, not if he had anything to say about it.
He left the ashes in a pile. Someone else would clean it up.
The four of them walked back together, all the way to the Slytherin dorms. Regulus told them about the Slug Club meeting, and they told him about their adventures in secret passageways. The map was accurate, thus far, and hadn’t led them astray even once. Regulus couldn’t wait to use it.
“We can use that to get around the new security measures,” he said, climbing the stairs to his dorm room. “I’m sure there’s one that leads close to the Forbidden Forest. Nobody would catch us.”
“Exactly! It’s perfect. Don’t know why the map had to be charmed for this, though, a regular one does just fine,” Mary said. She held the map, as she was least likely to lose it or set it on fire.
Evan scoffed. “They’re either overachievers or idiots, that’s why.”
Regulus was inclined to agree, more than ever before.
He pushed his key into the lock of his dorm door, and met no resistance. The door swung open. He was certain they’d locked it.
The key dropped to the ground, falling from his limp hand.
The entire dorm room had been torn up.
Someone had been in their room.