(no subject)
Title: What Must Be Done
Ficathon: auswitchathon
Characters: Regulus - who is now a Gryffindor. Peter, Sirius, and a few others.
Ships: James/Lily, one-sided Peter/James, Regulus/Peter.
Word count: 3,255.
Rating: PG-13 - language. There is also slash.
Summary: A clear AU. We are shaped by the people around us, and we shape the people around us. In another world, it's Regulus and Peter against the world. Betaed by analytically.
Their mother is thin, gaunt, and the smile on her face doesn't exactly fit. It stretches the skin of her face and looks more a toothy grimace. Regulus smiles back nonetheless, indulges his already-homesick firstie instincts and gives her a brief wave through a doorway of the Hogwarts Express. Upon turning, he is promptly pulled through the doorway into a compartment.
"Wh - " Regulus starts at the sight of his brother, and hovers above the seat waiting for the permission to sit.
Sirius rolls his eyes and gestures for him to sit. "I'm with my mates but I can stay with you a bit," he informs Regulus loftily. "Firstie and all, but no doubt you'll have a load of people in when they hear our name." He ends with a bit of a scoff.
Regulus gives his brother a blank look, genuinely not caring about a whit of that. "Where do you think I'll be Sorted?" he asks, clearing his throat and looking out the window. Mum is gone, or as he prefers to think of it, simply not visible at the moment. Mum will never be gone.
"Where do you think you'll be Sorted?" Sirius counters, bemused. Regulus begins to worry that Sirius already seems a bit bored, tries to formulate a response that will impress Sirius; his thoughts are cut off by Sirius once again. "That's all that matters."
Regulus is surprised at that. The impression he got from Narcissa - through her numerous letters last year, addressed to him, My darling Regulus - was that Sorting was a foregone conclusion, something you knew the moment you saw who sat the tables. It seems today will be a day of constant surprise. "You get a choice?" he asks. "Why would it be sorting, then? Wouldn't everyone go to the same House?"
Sirius grins knowingly. Regulus is resentful for a brief moment, because Sirius has always thought he's known better, even when Mum gives him a good verbal hiding, there's always that look.
Sirius leans forward, resting his elbow on his knee to wag a finger close in his little brother's direction. "Not everyone wants the same thing, Reg."
Regulus apparently must play along to get anything out of his brother. After all, words are the weapon of the thinking wizard, so says Dad. "Well, Sirius, what do you want?"
"I want you to tell me where you think you'll be Sorted," Sirius says; there is an equal hint of resentment in his voice. Why why why why, why do you have so many questions? Just shut up and listen, he'd shouted at Regulus once. Sirius is not as patient as Regulus, not as controlled, and with him, irritation tends to quickly swell to violence, verbal or physical.
So, Regulus forces himself to answer, as though reciting poetry by rote. "I am loyal; I could be Hufflepuff. I am smart; I could be Ravenclaw. I am ambitious; I could be Slytherin." He stops, because there is nothing else.
He expects to see cruel amusement in Sirius's eyes, that he can't find any Gryffindor traits within himself, but instead in his brother's eyes Regulus finds a very serious, nearly angry look. "And Gryffindor?" Sirius asks, his voice light in comparison to his heavy gaze.
Regulus has no clue what to say, closes his mouth and then entreats, "Sirius - "
"You mean to say you're closer to those arses than me?" Sirius's voice is not annoyed, disapproving. It rings with disappointment, hurt. Sirius doesn't look at him, stands, and paces to the window.
"...Who?" Regulus asks, though he knows. Sirius sent letters last year, too. Regulus has known Sirius for his entire life, and Sirius has never hated anyone as much as the Slytherins.
"Slytherin." He spits the word distastefully, as though he could aim the word and the poison it implies into the faces of its population. "It's not about ambition or pride or blood there, Reg. It's about stabbing your mate in the back. It's about thinking you're better than everyone else."
Regulus is frightened, not only for himself, but for his female cousins who left that unhappy House not too long ago. "We are better than everyone else," he points out, when he's certain Sirius is done.
"Are you so sure?" Sirius's fingers drum against the edge of the window, his gaze on the Scottish countryside. Regulus wants to see it, see it all for the first time, but he isn't quite so brave to stand at a moment like this.
"Sirius, that's a stupid question. Of course I'm sure."
"Are you going to prove it?"
Regulus actually finds himself angry, standing, indignant. "Of course! You think I would let the honor of the House of - "
Sirius is turning, laughing, and it's not mocking, but happy. Regulus stares at his brother, feeling foolish, and flushes as his brother orders, "Sit down." He does so.
"That's the Gryffindor in you," Sirius says, the smile on his face and in his voice. He grins, a very different look than the proud smile that preceded it, and ruffles Regulus's hair. "I'm going to see my mates. I'll introduce you to the lot of 'em later."
"All right," Regulus says slowly, but Sirius is already out the door. Puzzled, he sits back, alone in his compartment, and worries.
When it comes to it, Regulus does not argue with the Hat. It suits him. "GRYFFINDOR!"
He plucks off the hat as the applause starts, and goes to the Gryffindor table. Of all the welcoming smiles there, Sirius's is the best. Sirius glows.
The facts of life. Severus Snape is the enemy. Slytherin is the enemy. Narcissa's letters are no longer diligently sent nor answered, as he follows behind Sirius and James, lurking back with Remus and Peter, just as subject to the charms of Potter and Black the Elder.
Regulus tries to avoid the Mudbloods, at least, for Mum's sake. They're everywhere, Cresswell the nearest and worst. It's just unfortunate when his first and most fervent fancy focuses in on Lily Evans. When this confession pours out to a rare letter to Andromeda, she addresses it briefly - Don't. Sirius said she's Muggle. - and moves on to detail Bella's apparent relationship with Rodolphus Lestrange. Regulus already knows all that, as Sirius has been scathingly "detailing" that relationship himself.
Sirius and James's opinions are backward. The Slytherins are bad. Lily Evans is not filth. Severus Snape deserves the slow torture that the self-called Marauders have designed for him.
It takes three months for him to forget that things were any other way.
By third year, Regulus is nearly as popular as his brother and his friends. Regulus is the tagalong, yes, but he is the only one of their number who can hold his temper. His reserved sarcasm becomes the bane of the Slytherins who had so expected him to be among their ranks.
The girls like it. They like him, they think him clever, and he is rewarded for it. His first girlfriend, Araidne Corner, is a halfblood, and he can't bring himself to care. Everyone seems to be half. To adhere strictly to the principles of the pureblood lifestyle as he once knew them, Regulus tells Peter dryly one night, he would have to sleep outside of Gryffindor, just to avoid the breathing halfbreed air.
In third year, also, Regulus finds himself to no longer be following Sirius, but Peter. By fourth year, Peter has taken him on as confidante. There isn't enough Sirius and James to go around, at least, not their attention; they're too focused on each other. Remus is still enchanted with the pair, and spends every spare moment without them with Lily Evans. He and Peter draw together, away from the others.
Halfway through Regulus's fourth year, he and Peter are alone in the biting cold by the lake. Darkness is falling, but after countless detentions, neither cares very much for rules.
"It's getting worse, Reg," Peter says. He scratches his head, lays back in a casual way that Regulus absently notes resembles Sirius's easy lounging. They all imitate Sirius and James, on some level. "This Death Eater thing."
Regulus wants to roll his eyes. It's politics. Regulus has told him time and time again that politics just make everything more complicated, but Peter worries too much. About everything. "They're mad. It'll end soon. The Ministry can do it."
"The Ministry can't do anything." Regulus tenses at the sound of Peter's voice, the way it pitches up. This isn't the Peter he knows, a cautious Peter who approaches even easy subjects with remarkable fear.
"Peter," Regulus starts, weary, "what do you know about the Ministry?" Politics. He lays back, luxuriously casual, not giving a damn. It's the only safe way, to not say a word one way or the other. "Don't worry about - "
"Regulus." Peter is angry. Afraid. Regulus suspects they are rather close emotions with Peter; he wouldn't admit it, but it's true of himself as well. When he turns to look at Peter, though, he sees hopeless rejection.
Peter looks away, speaks bitterly. "The Ministry can't even keep track of us, and we're Hogwarts students."
Regulus doesn't know what Peter means, but it sounds good. Hogwarts students can fool the Ministry? Probably their very own Sirius and James. "Shouldn't you be proud?" he jokes, flashing one of his good-natured smirks in hopes of breaking the ice.
Peter breathes out sharply, pushes himself up to a sitting position, and rests his hands in his lap. Regulus thinks he rather looks like a begging dog, considers it comedic, smiles. The smile fades as Peter finds words, speaks. "Reg, you don't get it."
Regulus sits up as well, slowly. Both are silent for a moment, until Regulus draws his wand in a mock duel position. "Tell me, you git, or I'll hex it out of you." He trains his wand on Peter's face, but Peter remains unamused. "Peter, come on," he begs, lowering his wand.
Peter nods, with a grimace that genuinely concerns Regulus. He forces himself to speak. "Remus is a werewolf. Sirius and James - maybe Lily - are nearly Animagi. They've been doing this for years, Reg - hiding this - " Regulus stares, dazed, as Peter goes on, speaking faster. "Years, Regulus, and they just tell me 'in case' - 'in case' what, in case Remus kills someone?"
Remus is a werewolf. Remus is a werewolf. Sirius hasn't said a word - what else has Sirius lied about? - Regulus just stares at Peter, his own confusion and indirect rejection a mirror of Peter's. "Why didn't they - you - " Why didn't they invite you?
Peter sighs, and pulls his knees to his chin as best he can. He's given into it, and Regulus hates it, loathes it. "Top marks, Reg. You read my mind."
"My fault," Regulus says. He feels sick from shock, and everything else. Horror that he tore Peter from his friends, embarrassment at how close they are, and shame that his own brother wouldn't tell him something this big.
Sirius is selfish. But Regulus has always known that.
"Shut up," Peter says faintly, staring ahead at the lake as a wave recedes. He picks up a rock, and throws it, disturbing the water. "Who needs them and their werewolf, anyway?"
Sixth year. Christmas hols, Dorea Potter's funeral. Peter and Regulus sit a row behind James, Sirius, Remus, and Lily Evans. Everything seems simple and normal, for a funeral, until the end. Lily is hugging James by the cloakroom, no one is watching - until she plucks the glasses from his face and kisses him.
Sirius whistles and nudges Remus, who laughs. Peter had rather liked Mrs. Potter and isn't ready to go, so he doesn't notice until Regulus says with wicked glee, "No sodding way." When Peter turns, he freezes, eyes comedically wide at the sight. Regulus grins and whispers into his ear, "Yeah, I knew it," but Peter doesn't respond.
Eventually, as Lily flits off and James goes to get his ego fluffed by Sirius and Remus, Regulus pulls Peter from the room. The look he's giving James is just... weird. "Bit odd to do that with your mum dead in the room," Regulus says casually as they walk, "but if Lily Evans kissed me, I'd do the same."
Peter shakes his head, doesn't look at Regulus. "She's going to get him killed," he says.
It's impossible to talk to Peter about James, Regulus concludes. James James James. When would Peter realize that James really didn't care? "Peter," Regulus warns lightly, tugging at his cloak. This sounds like politics and blood-talk.
Peter turns on him, the sheer force of his desperate anger surprising Regulus. "Reg, Regulus, you don't understand, it's all right being friendly but she's Muggleb - "
Regulus puts his hands up, surrendering the conversation right off. " - Peter, no, I'm not talking about this - "
"You have to choose a side, Regulus, everyone's chosen theirs." Peter is trying to sound reasonable, but he still sounds manic. Regulus knows the reason, he does, he always has. Peter can want James all he wants, but James will only have who he wants. Why can't Peter understand that?
Regulus can't say that, because it would be admitting everything unspoken, and he doesn't have the Gryffindor boldness for that. "My side is with you," he says, instead.
This seems to calm Peter, who fixes his skewed cloak and says shakily, "Well, then you have to understand that being with them - any more than we already are - it'll get us killed."
Regulus tries on Sirius's usual joking tone, a last attempt at joviality over this tense and very awkward situation. "Oh, please."
Peter just stares at him; Regulus once and for all feels like the idiot, the youngest, the fool. "How many times have we taken the fall for them, Reg?" Peter asks.
"Too many," Regulus agrees hurriedly, "but that's different - "
"I thought you would understand."
Regulus wants to say that he would, but instead, he fusses with the pin of his cloak as they approach the door.
Peter opens the door, Regulus follows closely, and once the door closes, Peter turns to be face-to-face with Regulus. "Toujours Pur, Reg," he says. It's cold, and his breath is warm on Regulus's face.
It's as good as a slap. Regulus blushes, reminded of too many years of blah blah fucking family name honour blah. "Fuck Toujours Pur, what does it do for me?"
"It'll save your life." Peter inclines his gaze to meet Regulus's eyes entirely. "I'll see you back at Hogwarts."
Abashed and flushed, feeling just as admonished as he might leaving McGonagall's office, Regulus leaves.
That night, he opens the box that holds all of the letters Mum has sent him since the start of Hogwarts. He reads three, then dumps the entire box into the common room fire. He does not leave until the last is destroyed.
Regulus stops dead at the sight of the Gryffindor table the next morning. Peter is sitting, apparently of his own volition, with the people he deemed such a danger, the mass of ignorant happiness that is JamesSiriusRemusLily. Regulus eventually takes a seat across from Peter, in hopes of catching his eye.
As Lily and James jokingly snog to draw a wolf whistle from Sirius, Regulus notes Peter's posture and expression, reminded of an instant of memory. Narcissa's pained, determined expression in the midst of preparation for a ridiculous lavish Black family party; curls pinned tightly, a charm tightly binding the back of her bodice. The jerk of her chest as the strings pulled tighter, her wince of pain. The expression is ascetic - it hurts, but it must be done.
Nonetheless, when summer arrives, Peter moves into a flat, and Regulus follows. It's surprisingly cheap for a Magical Law Enforcement desk clerk (Peter) and a future Cursebreaker (Regulus), but neither of them wants to be alone.
One month out of school, Lily and James get married.
Two months out of school, they are brutally murdered by the Death Eaters.
Regulus seizes The Daily Prophet - its headline screams YOUNG NEWLYWEDS MURDERED IN THEIR PRIME - and goes into Peter's bedroom. Peter stares at the ceiling, his expression blank. Regulus hesitates, jumps to conclusions; he knows Peter too well by now. "You heard?"
"I know," Peter says. He props himself up on his elbows, then swings his legs over to the side of the bed. Regulus's gaze is caught by the rising of Peter's shirt, the skin beneath - Peter is losing weight, too much too quick - how frivolous. "I told you, didn't I?"
Regulus absorbs those words, about to retort with some clever and useless remark, before he looks Peter in the face. There is a terrible truth in his eyes, his cold gaze, and Regulus feels his stomach twist. "Peter - "
Peter's self-righteousness crumbles under the weight of the guilt that Regulus's horrified gaze sets upon him. He breaks. "I had to, you know I had to!" The confession bursts from Peter's throat, raw, as though it was lying in wait. "Better now than later - better to end it before - "
" - but James," Regulus chokes out. The world without a James Potter to hide behind is much worse than any ideological danger that Lily Evans Potter could pose. "Peter - you - you're one of them?"
Peter stands, shaking, and yanks his left sleeve up to bare his forearm - there is no Dark Mark. He lets the sleeve drop, lets the guilt hit Regulus. "I did this for us, not for some Dark Lord," he says, his voice shaking. "You said you're on my side, Reg!"
Regulus tries to accept this all, wants to scream or cry or something but he just can't understand. "But James was your friend - "
"James didn't understand, James didn't know what was good for him," Peter bursts out, tearing his wand from his tightened belt. "Just like Sirius, just like you!" His wand quivers not a centimeter from Regulus's nose.
A shudder cuts through Regulus. Lily and James are dead. Peter did it. Peter had a hand in it. No more James, no more playing Chaser's Quidditch, no more. It's all over. The war is here, the war is in his face, oh God.
"Kill me, then." Regulus raises his head, to die like a Black, with honor. Honor, what's honor in a world where there isn't even good and evil? His voice is faint, his head light, his body heavy with the shock. "No one is good enough for you."
Peter gives a dry, painful laugh, and then Peter is kissing him hard as though it's a punishment, pushes him into the chest of drawers when Regulus's knees buckle; they are helpless to resist the inertia that has pushed them closer and closer since the Hat cried "Gryffindor" to this instant.
Before Regulus leaves school, Remus and Sirius are dead. Peter does not admit or deny involvement, because Regulus doesn't ask.
Two years later, Halloween. Peter lies sleeping beside him when the news arrives. The Dark Lord Voldemort is dead, defeated by the one year old son of two Gryffindors, Neville Longbottom.
Regulus finds it apropos. He kisses a sleeping Peter on the forehead and goes to find some wine, to toast to Gryffindor.
Ficathon: auswitchathon
Characters: Regulus - who is now a Gryffindor. Peter, Sirius, and a few others.
Ships: James/Lily, one-sided Peter/James, Regulus/Peter.
Word count: 3,255.
Rating: PG-13 - language. There is also slash.
Summary: A clear AU. We are shaped by the people around us, and we shape the people around us. In another world, it's Regulus and Peter against the world. Betaed by analytically.
Their mother is thin, gaunt, and the smile on her face doesn't exactly fit. It stretches the skin of her face and looks more a toothy grimace. Regulus smiles back nonetheless, indulges his already-homesick firstie instincts and gives her a brief wave through a doorway of the Hogwarts Express. Upon turning, he is promptly pulled through the doorway into a compartment.
"Wh - " Regulus starts at the sight of his brother, and hovers above the seat waiting for the permission to sit.
Sirius rolls his eyes and gestures for him to sit. "I'm with my mates but I can stay with you a bit," he informs Regulus loftily. "Firstie and all, but no doubt you'll have a load of people in when they hear our name." He ends with a bit of a scoff.
Regulus gives his brother a blank look, genuinely not caring about a whit of that. "Where do you think I'll be Sorted?" he asks, clearing his throat and looking out the window. Mum is gone, or as he prefers to think of it, simply not visible at the moment. Mum will never be gone.
"Where do you think you'll be Sorted?" Sirius counters, bemused. Regulus begins to worry that Sirius already seems a bit bored, tries to formulate a response that will impress Sirius; his thoughts are cut off by Sirius once again. "That's all that matters."
Regulus is surprised at that. The impression he got from Narcissa - through her numerous letters last year, addressed to him, My darling Regulus - was that Sorting was a foregone conclusion, something you knew the moment you saw who sat the tables. It seems today will be a day of constant surprise. "You get a choice?" he asks. "Why would it be sorting, then? Wouldn't everyone go to the same House?"
Sirius grins knowingly. Regulus is resentful for a brief moment, because Sirius has always thought he's known better, even when Mum gives him a good verbal hiding, there's always that look.
Sirius leans forward, resting his elbow on his knee to wag a finger close in his little brother's direction. "Not everyone wants the same thing, Reg."
Regulus apparently must play along to get anything out of his brother. After all, words are the weapon of the thinking wizard, so says Dad. "Well, Sirius, what do you want?"
"I want you to tell me where you think you'll be Sorted," Sirius says; there is an equal hint of resentment in his voice. Why why why why, why do you have so many questions? Just shut up and listen, he'd shouted at Regulus once. Sirius is not as patient as Regulus, not as controlled, and with him, irritation tends to quickly swell to violence, verbal or physical.
So, Regulus forces himself to answer, as though reciting poetry by rote. "I am loyal; I could be Hufflepuff. I am smart; I could be Ravenclaw. I am ambitious; I could be Slytherin." He stops, because there is nothing else.
He expects to see cruel amusement in Sirius's eyes, that he can't find any Gryffindor traits within himself, but instead in his brother's eyes Regulus finds a very serious, nearly angry look. "And Gryffindor?" Sirius asks, his voice light in comparison to his heavy gaze.
Regulus has no clue what to say, closes his mouth and then entreats, "Sirius - "
"You mean to say you're closer to those arses than me?" Sirius's voice is not annoyed, disapproving. It rings with disappointment, hurt. Sirius doesn't look at him, stands, and paces to the window.
"...Who?" Regulus asks, though he knows. Sirius sent letters last year, too. Regulus has known Sirius for his entire life, and Sirius has never hated anyone as much as the Slytherins.
"Slytherin." He spits the word distastefully, as though he could aim the word and the poison it implies into the faces of its population. "It's not about ambition or pride or blood there, Reg. It's about stabbing your mate in the back. It's about thinking you're better than everyone else."
Regulus is frightened, not only for himself, but for his female cousins who left that unhappy House not too long ago. "We are better than everyone else," he points out, when he's certain Sirius is done.
"Are you so sure?" Sirius's fingers drum against the edge of the window, his gaze on the Scottish countryside. Regulus wants to see it, see it all for the first time, but he isn't quite so brave to stand at a moment like this.
"Sirius, that's a stupid question. Of course I'm sure."
"Are you going to prove it?"
Regulus actually finds himself angry, standing, indignant. "Of course! You think I would let the honor of the House of - "
Sirius is turning, laughing, and it's not mocking, but happy. Regulus stares at his brother, feeling foolish, and flushes as his brother orders, "Sit down." He does so.
"That's the Gryffindor in you," Sirius says, the smile on his face and in his voice. He grins, a very different look than the proud smile that preceded it, and ruffles Regulus's hair. "I'm going to see my mates. I'll introduce you to the lot of 'em later."
"All right," Regulus says slowly, but Sirius is already out the door. Puzzled, he sits back, alone in his compartment, and worries.
When it comes to it, Regulus does not argue with the Hat. It suits him. "GRYFFINDOR!"
He plucks off the hat as the applause starts, and goes to the Gryffindor table. Of all the welcoming smiles there, Sirius's is the best. Sirius glows.
The facts of life. Severus Snape is the enemy. Slytherin is the enemy. Narcissa's letters are no longer diligently sent nor answered, as he follows behind Sirius and James, lurking back with Remus and Peter, just as subject to the charms of Potter and Black the Elder.
Regulus tries to avoid the Mudbloods, at least, for Mum's sake. They're everywhere, Cresswell the nearest and worst. It's just unfortunate when his first and most fervent fancy focuses in on Lily Evans. When this confession pours out to a rare letter to Andromeda, she addresses it briefly - Don't. Sirius said she's Muggle. - and moves on to detail Bella's apparent relationship with Rodolphus Lestrange. Regulus already knows all that, as Sirius has been scathingly "detailing" that relationship himself.
Sirius and James's opinions are backward. The Slytherins are bad. Lily Evans is not filth. Severus Snape deserves the slow torture that the self-called Marauders have designed for him.
It takes three months for him to forget that things were any other way.
By third year, Regulus is nearly as popular as his brother and his friends. Regulus is the tagalong, yes, but he is the only one of their number who can hold his temper. His reserved sarcasm becomes the bane of the Slytherins who had so expected him to be among their ranks.
The girls like it. They like him, they think him clever, and he is rewarded for it. His first girlfriend, Araidne Corner, is a halfblood, and he can't bring himself to care. Everyone seems to be half. To adhere strictly to the principles of the pureblood lifestyle as he once knew them, Regulus tells Peter dryly one night, he would have to sleep outside of Gryffindor, just to avoid the breathing halfbreed air.
In third year, also, Regulus finds himself to no longer be following Sirius, but Peter. By fourth year, Peter has taken him on as confidante. There isn't enough Sirius and James to go around, at least, not their attention; they're too focused on each other. Remus is still enchanted with the pair, and spends every spare moment without them with Lily Evans. He and Peter draw together, away from the others.
Halfway through Regulus's fourth year, he and Peter are alone in the biting cold by the lake. Darkness is falling, but after countless detentions, neither cares very much for rules.
"It's getting worse, Reg," Peter says. He scratches his head, lays back in a casual way that Regulus absently notes resembles Sirius's easy lounging. They all imitate Sirius and James, on some level. "This Death Eater thing."
Regulus wants to roll his eyes. It's politics. Regulus has told him time and time again that politics just make everything more complicated, but Peter worries too much. About everything. "They're mad. It'll end soon. The Ministry can do it."
"The Ministry can't do anything." Regulus tenses at the sound of Peter's voice, the way it pitches up. This isn't the Peter he knows, a cautious Peter who approaches even easy subjects with remarkable fear.
"Peter," Regulus starts, weary, "what do you know about the Ministry?" Politics. He lays back, luxuriously casual, not giving a damn. It's the only safe way, to not say a word one way or the other. "Don't worry about - "
"Regulus." Peter is angry. Afraid. Regulus suspects they are rather close emotions with Peter; he wouldn't admit it, but it's true of himself as well. When he turns to look at Peter, though, he sees hopeless rejection.
Peter looks away, speaks bitterly. "The Ministry can't even keep track of us, and we're Hogwarts students."
Regulus doesn't know what Peter means, but it sounds good. Hogwarts students can fool the Ministry? Probably their very own Sirius and James. "Shouldn't you be proud?" he jokes, flashing one of his good-natured smirks in hopes of breaking the ice.
Peter breathes out sharply, pushes himself up to a sitting position, and rests his hands in his lap. Regulus thinks he rather looks like a begging dog, considers it comedic, smiles. The smile fades as Peter finds words, speaks. "Reg, you don't get it."
Regulus sits up as well, slowly. Both are silent for a moment, until Regulus draws his wand in a mock duel position. "Tell me, you git, or I'll hex it out of you." He trains his wand on Peter's face, but Peter remains unamused. "Peter, come on," he begs, lowering his wand.
Peter nods, with a grimace that genuinely concerns Regulus. He forces himself to speak. "Remus is a werewolf. Sirius and James - maybe Lily - are nearly Animagi. They've been doing this for years, Reg - hiding this - " Regulus stares, dazed, as Peter goes on, speaking faster. "Years, Regulus, and they just tell me 'in case' - 'in case' what, in case Remus kills someone?"
Remus is a werewolf. Remus is a werewolf. Sirius hasn't said a word - what else has Sirius lied about? - Regulus just stares at Peter, his own confusion and indirect rejection a mirror of Peter's. "Why didn't they - you - " Why didn't they invite you?
Peter sighs, and pulls his knees to his chin as best he can. He's given into it, and Regulus hates it, loathes it. "Top marks, Reg. You read my mind."
"My fault," Regulus says. He feels sick from shock, and everything else. Horror that he tore Peter from his friends, embarrassment at how close they are, and shame that his own brother wouldn't tell him something this big.
Sirius is selfish. But Regulus has always known that.
"Shut up," Peter says faintly, staring ahead at the lake as a wave recedes. He picks up a rock, and throws it, disturbing the water. "Who needs them and their werewolf, anyway?"
Sixth year. Christmas hols, Dorea Potter's funeral. Peter and Regulus sit a row behind James, Sirius, Remus, and Lily Evans. Everything seems simple and normal, for a funeral, until the end. Lily is hugging James by the cloakroom, no one is watching - until she plucks the glasses from his face and kisses him.
Sirius whistles and nudges Remus, who laughs. Peter had rather liked Mrs. Potter and isn't ready to go, so he doesn't notice until Regulus says with wicked glee, "No sodding way." When Peter turns, he freezes, eyes comedically wide at the sight. Regulus grins and whispers into his ear, "Yeah, I knew it," but Peter doesn't respond.
Eventually, as Lily flits off and James goes to get his ego fluffed by Sirius and Remus, Regulus pulls Peter from the room. The look he's giving James is just... weird. "Bit odd to do that with your mum dead in the room," Regulus says casually as they walk, "but if Lily Evans kissed me, I'd do the same."
Peter shakes his head, doesn't look at Regulus. "She's going to get him killed," he says.
It's impossible to talk to Peter about James, Regulus concludes. James James James. When would Peter realize that James really didn't care? "Peter," Regulus warns lightly, tugging at his cloak. This sounds like politics and blood-talk.
Peter turns on him, the sheer force of his desperate anger surprising Regulus. "Reg, Regulus, you don't understand, it's all right being friendly but she's Muggleb - "
Regulus puts his hands up, surrendering the conversation right off. " - Peter, no, I'm not talking about this - "
"You have to choose a side, Regulus, everyone's chosen theirs." Peter is trying to sound reasonable, but he still sounds manic. Regulus knows the reason, he does, he always has. Peter can want James all he wants, but James will only have who he wants. Why can't Peter understand that?
Regulus can't say that, because it would be admitting everything unspoken, and he doesn't have the Gryffindor boldness for that. "My side is with you," he says, instead.
This seems to calm Peter, who fixes his skewed cloak and says shakily, "Well, then you have to understand that being with them - any more than we already are - it'll get us killed."
Regulus tries on Sirius's usual joking tone, a last attempt at joviality over this tense and very awkward situation. "Oh, please."
Peter just stares at him; Regulus once and for all feels like the idiot, the youngest, the fool. "How many times have we taken the fall for them, Reg?" Peter asks.
"Too many," Regulus agrees hurriedly, "but that's different - "
"I thought you would understand."
Regulus wants to say that he would, but instead, he fusses with the pin of his cloak as they approach the door.
Peter opens the door, Regulus follows closely, and once the door closes, Peter turns to be face-to-face with Regulus. "Toujours Pur, Reg," he says. It's cold, and his breath is warm on Regulus's face.
It's as good as a slap. Regulus blushes, reminded of too many years of blah blah fucking family name honour blah. "Fuck Toujours Pur, what does it do for me?"
"It'll save your life." Peter inclines his gaze to meet Regulus's eyes entirely. "I'll see you back at Hogwarts."
Abashed and flushed, feeling just as admonished as he might leaving McGonagall's office, Regulus leaves.
That night, he opens the box that holds all of the letters Mum has sent him since the start of Hogwarts. He reads three, then dumps the entire box into the common room fire. He does not leave until the last is destroyed.
Regulus stops dead at the sight of the Gryffindor table the next morning. Peter is sitting, apparently of his own volition, with the people he deemed such a danger, the mass of ignorant happiness that is JamesSiriusRemusLily. Regulus eventually takes a seat across from Peter, in hopes of catching his eye.
As Lily and James jokingly snog to draw a wolf whistle from Sirius, Regulus notes Peter's posture and expression, reminded of an instant of memory. Narcissa's pained, determined expression in the midst of preparation for a ridiculous lavish Black family party; curls pinned tightly, a charm tightly binding the back of her bodice. The jerk of her chest as the strings pulled tighter, her wince of pain. The expression is ascetic - it hurts, but it must be done.
Nonetheless, when summer arrives, Peter moves into a flat, and Regulus follows. It's surprisingly cheap for a Magical Law Enforcement desk clerk (Peter) and a future Cursebreaker (Regulus), but neither of them wants to be alone.
One month out of school, Lily and James get married.
Two months out of school, they are brutally murdered by the Death Eaters.
Regulus seizes The Daily Prophet - its headline screams YOUNG NEWLYWEDS MURDERED IN THEIR PRIME - and goes into Peter's bedroom. Peter stares at the ceiling, his expression blank. Regulus hesitates, jumps to conclusions; he knows Peter too well by now. "You heard?"
"I know," Peter says. He props himself up on his elbows, then swings his legs over to the side of the bed. Regulus's gaze is caught by the rising of Peter's shirt, the skin beneath - Peter is losing weight, too much too quick - how frivolous. "I told you, didn't I?"
Regulus absorbs those words, about to retort with some clever and useless remark, before he looks Peter in the face. There is a terrible truth in his eyes, his cold gaze, and Regulus feels his stomach twist. "Peter - "
Peter's self-righteousness crumbles under the weight of the guilt that Regulus's horrified gaze sets upon him. He breaks. "I had to, you know I had to!" The confession bursts from Peter's throat, raw, as though it was lying in wait. "Better now than later - better to end it before - "
" - but James," Regulus chokes out. The world without a James Potter to hide behind is much worse than any ideological danger that Lily Evans Potter could pose. "Peter - you - you're one of them?"
Peter stands, shaking, and yanks his left sleeve up to bare his forearm - there is no Dark Mark. He lets the sleeve drop, lets the guilt hit Regulus. "I did this for us, not for some Dark Lord," he says, his voice shaking. "You said you're on my side, Reg!"
Regulus tries to accept this all, wants to scream or cry or something but he just can't understand. "But James was your friend - "
"James didn't understand, James didn't know what was good for him," Peter bursts out, tearing his wand from his tightened belt. "Just like Sirius, just like you!" His wand quivers not a centimeter from Regulus's nose.
A shudder cuts through Regulus. Lily and James are dead. Peter did it. Peter had a hand in it. No more James, no more playing Chaser's Quidditch, no more. It's all over. The war is here, the war is in his face, oh God.
"Kill me, then." Regulus raises his head, to die like a Black, with honor. Honor, what's honor in a world where there isn't even good and evil? His voice is faint, his head light, his body heavy with the shock. "No one is good enough for you."
Peter gives a dry, painful laugh, and then Peter is kissing him hard as though it's a punishment, pushes him into the chest of drawers when Regulus's knees buckle; they are helpless to resist the inertia that has pushed them closer and closer since the Hat cried "Gryffindor" to this instant.
Before Regulus leaves school, Remus and Sirius are dead. Peter does not admit or deny involvement, because Regulus doesn't ask.
Two years later, Halloween. Peter lies sleeping beside him when the news arrives. The Dark Lord Voldemort is dead, defeated by the one year old son of two Gryffindors, Neville Longbottom.
Regulus finds it apropos. He kisses a sleeping Peter on the forehead and goes to find some wine, to toast to Gryffindor.