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Deep among the hidden items in the Room of Requirement, Draco sat on the stone floor with an open book on his knee, and a piece of broken charcoal in his hand.
He was desperate. He had been desperate all year, from the moment he had been marked as a servant of the Dark Lord– but now even moreso. The school year was coming to an end, and still, he had been unable to complete the task assigned to him. He had two months left to figure out how to repair the blasted cabinet.
To Draco, this meant two months left to live.
Slowly, carefully, he dragged the piece of charcoal against the stone, sketching out a circle. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to do it, but three days prior, he had nicked a copy of The Nightshade Guide to Necromancy from the Restricted Section. It was the first book he had gone out of his way to read all year that wasn’t directly related to the repair of the cabinet. All of the spells that claimed to achieve true necromancy had been proven to be defunct, but Draco was willing to try anyway.
Maybe he was hoping to gain another perspective to help him complete the task– or maybe he was seeking reassurance from the dead, who he would likely be joining soon. Maybe he just wanted to find someone who understood the weight that had been placed on his shoulders.
Draco meticulously studied the details on the page, and replicated them in charcoal little by little. Once it was finally complete, the book merely instructed him to perform the spell– but for good measure, he sliced open the tip of his forefinger and let several drops of blood fall into the center of the circle. If the spell hadn’t worked for anyone previously, perhaps it needed something more: a sacrifice. It was a dramatic touch, but what did he have to lose?
He picked up his wand and held it tightly in his right hand. Blood oozed from his finger and dripped down his wrist, but Draco made no effort to stop it. He touched the tip of his wand to the center of the circle, resting it in the small pool of blood. He closed his eyes and said in a clear, firm voice: “Mortuus expergiscimini.”
The room remained still and silent. Draco let his shoulders sag, then opened his eyes, expecting nothing.
Only there was something– or rather, someone– sitting directly across the circle from him.
The boy appeared dazed and confused. He had dark hair, rather handsome features, and strangely familiar gray eyes. He looked to be around the same age as Draco, or perhaps a year or two older. As his mind seemed to clear, his eyes narrowed into a hostile expression.
“Who the hell are you?”
“I could ask you the same,” Draco answered haughtily, unable to help himself. He found an old towel among the items piled around them, and wiped the blood and charcoal from his hands.
The boy looked down at his own hands, turning them over as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He suddenly gripped his left forearm and glared at Draco accusingly.
“Did you bring me here? You shouldn’t have. I wasn’t supposed to make it out.”
“Make it out of where?” Draco asked, curiously raising an eyebrow.
This question only seemed to confuse the boy further. His brows knit together as he tried to make sense of his existence. Finally, Draco took pity on him.
“You are dead, by the way,” he explained. “I fancied myself a necromancer. Brought you back from wherever you met your demise.”
“You did? Why? What am I to you?”
“Well,” Draco started slowly, “that is a good question. I can’t really say why, and I don’t believe we’ve met. I didn’t single you out, but you arrived anyway.”
Frustrated, the boy gestured to the circle. “Clearly you meant to bring someone back. I deserve to know why!”
“What’s your name?” Draco asked, dodging the question.
“You tell me first,” the boy said darkly.
“Fine,” Draco relented with a shrug. “It’s Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”
Recognition dawned in the boy’s eyes. He studied Draco’s features closely, as though piecing together a puzzle.
“You’re Narcissa’s son?”
“Yes,” Draco answered, taken aback. “You knew my mother?”
But before the boy answered, Draco began to assemble the same puzzle. His mother was a proud Malfoy, but she was just as proud of her Black ancestry. Suddenly, it became clear who he was speaking with. Draco had seen his mother’s cousin in old photos that she had shown him. She had always spoken of him fondly, in that annoying maternal tone she otherwise reserved only for Draco.
“You’re Regulus Arcturus,” he realized aloud. “Aren’t you?”
Regulus straightened up proudly at the sound of his own name. He seemed quite pleased to have been recognized.
“I am,” he confirmed. “Narcissa spoke of me, then? She always was my favorite cousin.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard about you. Your death was a mystery. They say you died in the service of the Dark Lord, but… they never even found your body.”
“Good. I had planned it that way.”
“You planned it,” Draco echoed incredulously. “Why? How?”
“Why should I tell you?”
“Because…” Draco sighed, trying to swallow his pride. He avoided eye contact, staring at the circle on the floor. “I need help. I think there’s a reason I summoned you here. Maybe you can help me.”
Regulus crossed his arms, seeming to size Draco up. “What do you need help with, exactly?” he asked.
Wordlessly, Draco unbuttoned the cuff of his left sleeve, and pulled it up to reveal the inky black skull and snake that he had been branded with. Regulus said nothing, and Draco finally lifted his gaze to seek a reaction.
Regulus looked unwell. His skin had turned pale and clammy, and his eyes were haunted as he stared down at the mark.
“He’s… alive? Still?” he finally asked. The pride had disappeared from his voice. Regulus sounded terrified.
“Many did think he died, but he came back two years ago.”
“So Kreacher failed,” Regulus murmured to himself. “Or… there are others?”
“I beg your pardon?” Draco interrupted a bit rudely. “What others?”
Regulus shook his head, blinking a few times like he was trying to regain focus.
“Nothing,” he insisted. “You still haven’t clarified what you need help with.”
“I’m trapped,” Draco said bluntly, as though it was obvious. He gestured weakly toward the broken cabinet. “The Dark Lord ordered me to repair this vanishing cabinet. The matching one is in Borgin and Burke’s, and he intends to use it as a passage to break Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Then once they’re here…”
“Yes?”
“Once they’re here, I’m supposed to kill Dumbledore myself.”
“...I see.”
“Do you?” Draco asked wildly, raising his voice. “Do you really understand? If I fail, he’ll kill me! He’ll kill my family!”
“Oh, I know,” Regulus assured him, far too calmly. “That’s how he keeps you compliant. Your family will always be at risk for as long as you serve him. If you fail or try to run away, that’s the end of it.”
“What did you do, then?!”
“I died.”
Silence fell between them for a moment while Draco’s heart pounded in his ears.
“...Now I understand that was a mistake,” Regulus admitted quietly. “I left a job unfinished, and ultimately my sacrifice meant nothing.”
“What do you mean?” Draco pried, getting increasingly frustrated with Regulus’s riddles.
“I know his weakness. I can tell you how to kill him, though I fear it won’t be easy.”
The existence that Regulus had been brought into was a strange one. He discovered that he couldn’t be more than about 30 meters from Draco, physically. He seemed somewhat solid, not semi-transparent like a ghost, yet no one aside from Draco could see him. Whatever spell Draco had cast to summon him here had bound them together.
They got to know each other very quickly, for better or worse. Over the course of a few days, Regulus taught Draco everything he knew about Horcruxes.
“So you got the locket from the cave,” Draco said one evening while changing out of his school robes into something more comfortable, “and then died there to protect your family?”
“Partially, yes,” Regulus said with slight discomfort. As Draco unbuttoned his shirt, he noticed a long scar that ran down the center of his chest.
“What’s the other part, then?”
“That’s not important,” Regulus dodged, quickly changing the subject. “How did you get that scar?”
Draco’s mood noticeably soured. He pulled his shirt closed to hide the scar. “Potter,” he spat viciously. Regulus reeled at the familiar name. “He tried to kill me. He thinks he’s some valiant hero, but he’s the reason my family is in the position that we’re in. He saw me in a moment of weakness and took that as an opportunity to kick me while I was down.”
“Potter?” Regulus echoed in surprise.
“You know him? Of course you do. Who doesn’t know Harry Potter, the chosen one.” He said the title mockingly.
“No, but I knew his father– at least, I assume so. I never knew he had a son.”
“Oh, great,” Draco said dramatically. “I’ve heard his father was a scumbag, too.”
Draco’s description did feel eerily familiar. Did Harry take after his father that much, or were they both assigning undue blame?
He’s the reason my family is in the position that we’re in.
Regulus had once blamed Potter for the pressure he felt from his own family. He had blamed him for taking Sirius away. For the first time, he wondered if that was fair.
“He was my brother’s best friend,” Regulus explained, with a remarkable lack of hostility that even surprised himself. “He ran away at fifteen, and our parents disinherited him. He went to Potter’s house, instead. I hated them both for it.”
Sirius had given Regulus a note with an address, the night he left home. He had forgotten, until now.
If you ever need to get away, you can come here.
Regulus felt a stab of regret. Should he have gone there instead of the cave? He had felt so alone in his final days. No one would have joined him if he had chosen to stand and fight the Dark Lord.
But Sirius would have. Together, they might have made a difference.
“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Draco said, mildly curious. Regulus smiled grimly.
“He was a pain in all of our sides. It doesn’t surprise me that Narcissa hasn’t mentioned him.”
He dodged questions from Draco, and avoided talk of Potter and Sirius for the rest of the evening.
Regulus wanted Draco to play the hero, to finish what he started, but Draco wasn’t convinced. Since hearing his departed cousin’s story, he had privately considered a few different ways to end his life. Number one on the list was to corner Potter, and let him finish the job this time. Surely if he could make it look like murder, then his family couldn’t be punished for it.
Regulus had died without a word to anyone. Maybe that really was how it had to be, but the idea of disappearing without offering any closure to his parents left Draco feeling ill. His mother might die from shock and grief.
So in the back of the potions classroom, while Regulus lingered in the hall, Draco began drafting a letter to his mother in lieu of taking notes. It was difficult to find the right words. He wasn’t sure how much he could say without causing her more trouble. What if the letter was intercepted?
Dear Mother,
If you’re reading this, it means I have failed in my task. Please don’t try to search for me. I only wish for you and father to be safe.
Draco scratched his head and crossed out the words, then crumbled up the paper and shoved into his robe pocket.
When class ended, Regulus was waiting outside. Draco walked past him without a word, and climbed the stairs to the Room of Requirement. Even now that he had given up on the cabinet, it was still the only place he could find solace.
“You should try to find my brother,” Regulus said as soon as they were alone. He said the words in a calm, even tone, as though he had been ruminating on the concept for most of the day.
“The one that was disinherited? You must be joking.”
“No, I’m not. With my parents gone, he’s the only one who might be able to get into our old house to search for the locket.”
“Where would I even find him?”
“I’m not sure where he is now, but I’m certain Potter could tell you.”
“Potter? Now I’m sure you’ve lost it. There’s no way I’m asking Potter for help.”
“Don’t be stubborn,” Regulus lectured. “It was that sort of thick-headedness that kept me from asking Sirius for help nearly two decades ago, and look at how well that turned out for me.”
“Sirius–” Draco started, eyes widening in surprise. “Your brother is Sirius Black?”
Regulus crossed his arms warily. “Well, yes. You know him?”
“Of course, the whole wizarding world knows his name. I can’t believe I didn’t put together that he was your brother.”
“He got famous, did he? I’m sure he loves that. What did he do?”
“Well,” Draco said rather tactlessly, “he was the first wizard to escape from Azkaban, but I’ve heard he was actually innocent. I don’t know the full story, but I know he died last year. It was all Aunt Bella could talk about for a while.”
Regulus looked far away as he processed this. He gave a curt nod, and turned away.
“I suppose that’s off the table, then.”
“Look,” Draco said tiredly. “I understand you have regrets, but going on a wild goose chase for Horcruxes isn’t going to keep my family safe.”
“What do you propose you should do, then?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? I’m going to die, just like you did.”
Regulus’s piercing stare made the back of Draco’s neck itch. They sat in silence for a long, tense moment before Regulus opened his mouth to speak.
“Is that really the path you want to take, Draco?”
“What other choice do I have? You said it yourself. My family will always be in danger for as long as I serve him.”
“When I died, it wasn’t just to save my family,” Regulus explained. His tone was calm, but there was clear discomfort in his voice. Draco didn’t turn to face him, but prompted him to continue.
“...Go on, then.”
“When I became a Death Eater, it was one of the only times my Mother showed true pride in me. I didn’t want her to die thinking of me as a disgrace. I preferred to keep my death a mystery, so that maybe she would look upon my grave with dignity.”
Draco was quiet for a long moment, trying to imagine it. Draco had wanted his mother to feel proud when he was marked, but he had been made a Death Eater after his father had lost the Dark Lord’s favor. The mark on his arm was a punishment. A threat.
His mother’s pride had been shaken. She was terrified. Though they never admitted it aloud, Draco was quite certain that both of his parents now regretted their involvement with the Dark Lord.
When Draco said nothing, Regulus continued.
“I don’t believe that’s a sentiment that you share– or at least, it shouldn’t be. I’m quite certain that Narcissa would rather see you alive.”
“My mother has been worried,” Draco admitted, “but I wanted to prove that her fretting was unnecessary. I thought I could restore my family’s honor.”
“Honor isn’t everything,” Regulus said, and his expression showed that even he was surprised by this revelation. “I chose to die in an attempt to save my pride, but in doing so I sacrificed far more than just my own life. Maybe if I’d had the guts to speak to my brother and actually do something, we could have ended this war.”
“So what do you want me to do?” Draco demanded.
“Write to your mother, and tell her to go into hiding. The Dark Lord can’t touch you as long as you’re here. As soon as school lets out, skip the train and go straight to my old family home.”
“That’s not much of a plan,” Draco protested. “What if my mother’s mail is intercepted? Where the hell could she even go?”
“Narcissa has a sister who could keep her safe.”
“Aunt Bella? She’d sell us all out before she defied the Dark Lord.”
“No, not Bellatrix,” Regulus corrected with a wry smile. “I’m talking about her other sister, Andromeda. She was disinherited like my brother was, but she didn’t live near as recklessly as he did. Assuming she’s still alive, she would be able to provide safe lodging– as long as Cissy isn’t too proud to request her help, of course.”
Draco’s mother had never spoken of any sister other than Bellatrix. He began to wonder what else he might not know about.
“But surely I can’t just write that in a letter. None of that would matter if the Dark Lord were to read it.”
“I can help you write the letter. She’s smart, and I knew her well. Together, we can come up with some way to alert her in a way the Dark Lord won’t understand.”
“I suppose so,” Draco said slowly, turning the idea around in his head. If he knew his mother was safe, it would give him more room to move freely. “But once we get the locket from your place, what then?”
“That part I’m still figuring out,” Regulus admitted, “but it’s a start.”
Draco didn’t much like the sound of that, but he had to admit it was slightly more appealing than dying.
“Alright,” he finally agreed, “I’ll consider it, but I’m not promising anything yet. Help me write this letter to Mother first.”
Dear Mother,
I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to reply to your last letter. As you know, I’ve been working hard on the duty that’s been given to me. My first priority, of course, is keeping you and Father safe.
In astronomy this week, we’ve spent special focus on the constellation Leo. One star in particular stood out to me. Didn’t you once have a cousin by the name of Regulus? I feel very close to him. I wonder if he was anything like me.
Next week we’ll be looking at the stars Alpheratz and Mirach. If I could visit the stars, I think that’s where I’d feel safest. If ever I were to lose you, that’s where I would look.
I’ve been considering where I’d like to go on holiday this year. I want to go somewhere you’ve been before, perhaps to learn a bit of family history. No need to tell me where we’re going, though– I think I’d like a surprise this time.
Your son,
Draco
It was a smartly written letter. Regulus felt certain that Narcissa would put the pieces together. Hopefully, with the suggestion coming from her beloved son, she would listen and seek out her estranged sister.
Please do what I couldn’t.
Although Draco had been reluctant to commit to the plan, it took little coaxing to convince him to send the letter. No matter what path he chose, the danger to his family wasn’t going away. Encouraging Narcissa to seek safety could only help.
Draco gave the letter to a young spotted owl, and sent him off from the owlery. Together, the two boys watched in silence as the bird grew smaller and smaller on the horizon.
“She’ll get the message,” Regulus said with confidence once the owl was out of sight. “And even if the Dark Lord does read it, I highly doubt that he would understand what you meant. He doesn’t pay enough attention to the lives of his followers. He likely doesn’t even know Andromeda’s name, let alone the stars that are within her constellation.”
Draco opened his mouth to reply, but stopped short. There were footsteps on the stairs, and the sound of three voices carried up the tower.
“He’s really going to take you with him? That sounds really dangerous, Harry.”
“When will you be going?”
“I don’t know yet. He said he’ll let me know as soon as he’s found the next Horcrux.”
Regulus looked at Draco in astonishment, but his cousin had taken up a defensive stance. His wand was drawn, held close to his side in a firm grip. His eyes narrowed furiously as the three teenagers stepped through the door.
If Regulus didn’t know better, he’d have thought he was looking at James Potter himself. The resemblance was uncanny. As soon as the boy caught sight of Draco, he took up a defensive posture of his own– one that was all too familiar to Regulus.
“Malfoy,” the Potter boy said lowly.
“Potter,” Draco spat in response. “Come to take another attempt on my life, have you?”
Something like guilt flashed in Potter’s eyes.
“Of course not. That was an accident.”
“Bollocks,” Draco answered rudely. “You’ve been waiting for your chance all year. You think you can get away with anything now, just because you’re the chosen one. Not even attempted murder could keep Dumbledore from favoring you.”
“That’s enough, Malfoy,” Potter’s redheaded friend said firmly.
Draco curled his lip in disgust, then shoved past the three of them to descend the stairs.
“Just stay away from me,” he said sharply.
“Likewise,” Potter shot back.
Regulus followed Draco down the tower stairs, still reeling from the mention of a Horcrux.
“Draco–” he began, but his cousin cut him off curtly.
“Don’t talk to me until we’re alone.”
Irritated, Regulus kept his mouth shut, and they descended into the dungeons. Draco rushed through the Slytherin common room, rudely rebuffing his friends as they attempted to talk to him.
Regulus had witnessed him do this countless times in the last couple of weeks since he had come into existence, and each time it had reminded him starkly of himself. There had been a clear turning point in his own life when his friends had stopped feeling genuine, and their presence had begun to feel draining instead. It had come shortly after he’d received the Dark Mark, and Regulus had realized that those he had felt closest to would no longer support him if he voiced any doubts.
That lack of support had killed him, ultimately.
Draco stormed into his dorm room, sat on his bed, and yanked the curtains closed. He was breathing hard, and his hands shook slightly as he tugged at his hair.
Regulus had no idea what to say. He had never been skilled in comforting others, but he had been in Draco’s shoes more times than he could count.
What would he have said to himself? What could have gotten through to him, without resulting in backlash?
“He really is like his father,” he finally commiserated.
“He’s so arrogant,” Draco complained. This was, it seemed, the right thing to say. “He waltzes around the school like he owns it, and the teachers all think he can do no wrong. Well, except for Snape.”
Regulus held back a laugh. How very like Snape, to hold a grudge against a child all these years later.
“Well, Snape and Potter– James Potter, that is– had a relationship quite similar to yours, it seems.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“In hindsight, though…” Regulus paused, really having to work to get the words out. “I don’t think James was all that bad.”
“Oh, come off it. I don’t want to hear it.”
“I think you need to,” Regulus argued. “I couldn’t stand Potter, but he offered my brother support when he needed it. I never had anything like that.”
“What’s that got to do with me?”
“Well, I think you’re a bit like me, and if you’re going to embark on this journey, it would be better not to do it alone.”
“So what, you think I should team up with Potter?”
“You heard what he said, Draco. He’s looking for Horcuxes, just like you are. You need allies.”
“Have you forgotten the fact that he tried to kill me?”
“What if it really was an accident?”
“You don’t just slice someone open down the middle by accident!”
Regulus held his hands up defensively. “I’m not saying you have to be best friends,” he said, “but you have a common goal. At the very least, I think you should tell him everything I’ve told you about the locket. It’s important information.”
“I’m not saying a damn word to Potter. That’s the end of it.”
Draco lay down and covered his head with a pillow. Regulus sighed and settled at the foot of his bed. He was intimately familiar with Draco’s particular brand of stubbornness. He would just have to wait out the storm, and try again. Eventually, with any luck, he might get through to him.
He wondered, with resignation, if this was how Sirius had felt when dealing with him all those years ago.
Nearly a week passed before Draco received a response from his mother. He received the letter during breakfast, and skipped his first class in order to open it privately in the Room of Requirement with Regulus.
My dearest Draco,
How curious that you should bring up our departed cousin. I would say he was rather like you, in more ways than one. I was quite fond of him, and it pained me deeply when he disappeared. It would truly destroy me to see you meet a similar fate, so I do hope you’re dissimilar in that manner.
I will carefully consider your suggestion on our holiday destination. I once spent a summer in Bordeaux in my youth. It was a wonderful time, but it came with memories that held much conflict for me later. I am not suggesting we visit France, as I am conscious of your wish for secrecy, but perhaps I’ll tell you about it sometime.
As the end of your school year approaches, I find it pertinent to tell you that your father and I will not be able to meet you at King’s Cross as we usually do. Your Aunt Bella will be sent to retrieve you from the train.
Please keep yourself safe, my son. You are my pride. Nothing you do could ever disappoint me.
All my love,
Narcissa Malfoy
Draco’s heart sank. How was he supposed to know she had truly understood the meaning of his words, when she was going on about a holiday in Bordeaux?
He glanced at Regulus, and found a completely different expression on his face. He was smiling– a real, true, genuine smile.
“She got it,” he said confidently.
“How can you be sure?” Draco asked, skimming over her words again.
“She’s answered you in a similar code,” Regulus explained. “Our trip to Bordeaux was the last holiday we had with Andromeda. The week after we got back, she married her muggle-born husband, and was subsequently disinherited. She had to have known it was the last time she would be able to spend time with her sisters, but she didn’t say a word to any of us.”
“How would she expect me to understand that, though?”
“Obviously she couldn’t know you’ve spoken with me, so I assume she must think you’re in contact with Andromeda herself.”
“Then what she said about not being at King’s Cross– is she warning me to skip the train?”
“It would seem that way. I imagine Bellatrix has been ordered to take you straight to the Dark Lord to receive your punishment.”
Draco focused on his mother’s final words. You are my pride. Nothing you do could ever disappoint me.
His chest ached. He was often annoyed by his mother’s fretting, but now he longed to curl up into her like a young child. He swallowed a thick lump in his throat, trying to pull himself together.
“I’m glad she’s willing to set aside her differences,” Regulus said softly. There was a clear note of fondness in his voice. “I really admire her for that.”
“You’re projecting, aren’t you?” Draco said rudely, masking his emotion. “Wishing you could have done the same with your brother.”
“Yeah, maybe I am.”
An uneasiness settled in Draco’s stomach as the unsaid implication rounded on him. If she can do it, why can’t you?
“I’m different, though,” Draco protested. “With both of you, you’d be reconnecting with a sibling. Potter and I aren’t family. So it’s not the same.”
Regulus looked amused, which just annoyed Draco further.
“Maybe not,” Regulus agreed, “but there is a lot of history between our families. Sirius considered James a brother, and I’m sure he had a strong bond with Harry before he died. I suppose I see the two of you as our descendants, in a way.”
“You really are projecting,” Draco muttered. “Your old bonds or feuds or whatever are none of my concern.”
In spite of his words, the idea did take root somewhere inside of Draco. Was his feud with Potter really so deep that it spanned generations? He felt indebted to Regulus after all that he’d done for him. If Draco could bring him peace by simply exchanging a few words with Potter, shouldn’t he at least try?
“You say we’re alike, but you’re far too calm about all of this.”
Regulus laughed a little. “I guess that’s what being dead does to you. Post-mortem clarity, or something like that.”
“Morbid of you,” Draco said, and to his own surprise, a hint of fondness slipped into his voice.
“You know,” Regulus said after a beat, “I can’t stick around here forever.”
“What?” Draco asked, alarmed. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t belong here, Draco. I didn’t choose to be an inferius or a ghost. Whatever enchantment prevented my soul from passing on in that cave, you’ve lifted it now.”
“What about seeing this through to the end?”
“I’ll still be watching, but there’s only so much I can do. I chose to die in 1979, so I don’t get to be the hero now. This is in your hands.”
“You expect me to do this alone?”
Regulus gave him a look that said you should really know the answer to this by now.
“Not with Potter,” Draco protested again, but he was wearing down. He knew it, and Regulus knew it.
“Who else can you turn to for this?” Regulus asked knowingly.
Draco’s shoulders sagged. Who could he turn to? Crabbe and Goyle? Blaise, or Pansy? He was confident none of them would be willing to stake their lives on bringing down Voldemort.
“You’re strong, Draco, just like your mother. You’re a lot stronger than I was at your age, that much I’m certain of.”
“Only because I had you,” Draco said desperately.
“Then I’m glad I could lend you the meager strength that I possess. Please use it to put an end to all of this.”
Draco closed his eyes, took a deep breath… and caved.
“Okay,” he finally agreed. “I don’t know if Potter would even want my help, but… I’ll talk to him, at least. That much I can promise.”
Regulus was smiling. “Thank you,” he said, far too earnestly. “It seems my being here has been beneficial for the both of us.”
“Alright, enough already,” Draco said, shoving his mother’s letter into his robe pocket before he would return to class. “You’re getting way too mushy.”
The two boys sat across from each other in the Room of Requirement, before the broken cabinet with the charcoal circle between them, much like they had when they first met.
“What will you do in the afterlife?” Draco asked curiously, studying his cousin’s face for the last time.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? I’m going to find my brother. I owe him an apology, after all this time.”
“And you’ll really still be watching?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t want to miss out on what I started. By the way– if you get the chance, do me a favor and let Voldemort know I turned against him, too. I left him a note, but I don’t know if he ever found it.”
“Sure thing. Anything else?”
“Look after your mother. If you ever tell her about our encounter, please let her know how proud I am– of both of you.”
Draco nodded his agreement, staring down at the circle instead of meeting his cousin’s eyes.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me.”
“You’ve done just as much for me, believe it or not. Consider it an even score.”
When Draco finally looked up at Regulus, he found an expression of complex grief on his face. Though neither of them said it, the sentiment between them was clear.
I’ll miss you.
Regulus gave him a decisive nod, and Draco reached between them and dragged his palm through the charcoal, smearing it and breaking the circle.
He squeezed his eyes shut. Part of him expected nothing to change. He thought maybe, just maybe, Regulus was bound to him more than the circle, and the simple act of wiping away charcoal couldn’t break that.
When he opened his eyes again though, Regulus was gone. There was no trace of the dark-haired boy with eyes that matched Draco’s. There was no sign that he had ever existed at all.
The room suddenly seemed eerily quiet, and a loneliness that Draco had thought had at last been cured resurfaced. He pushed himself to his feet, facing the broken cabinet, and stared at the charcoal coating his palm.
You’re stronger than I was at your age, that much I’m certain of.
You are my pride. Nothing you do could ever disappoint me.
Mustering the strength of his mother and second cousin, Draco turned and left the Room of Requirement.
He found Potter and his friends in the library. As he approached, they looked just as wary as he felt, but he pressed on, refusing to show fear.
“Potter, I need to talk to you.”