Not Enough (With The Someone's Future Coda) [Harry Potter: Remus Lupin, Regulus Black, Remus/Sirius]
Title: Not Enough (with the Someone's Future Coda)
Author: lupinslittlesis
Summary: Desperation makes Regulus turn to his least favorite "person" in the world.
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Harry Potter
Title, Author and URL of original story: The original story is Do You See Someone With a Future? by leiascully.
"You're not big enough. You're not old enough. You're not strong enough. You're not brave enough. You're not exciting enough." Regulus Black had heard those words over and over for fifteen years. He heard them when he wanted to see what Sirius was looking at, when he wanted to play Quidditch, when he wanted to help Sirius with his trunk, when he wanted to be in Sirius's House, when he wanted to join Sirius and his friends in whatever they were doing. The very last thing Sirius had said to him was, "That's not enough," when Regulus had told Sirius he loved him and that he shouldn't run away.
Regulus used to think that Sirius was wrong. When he was twelve, Rabastan Lestrange told him he would be a fantastic Beater. When he was sixteen, he left school to join the Death Eaters and his parents encouraged him. When he was seventeen, he found his father on the floor and got him to St. Mungo's without the help of magic, because his wand was too far away. When he was eighteen, he had stood and watched people being tortured and killed, even though he wanted to look away. And when he was nineteen, he killed a man for the first time, and he was told he would go far.
Then it began to fall apart, and Regulus realized that Sirius was right.
***
"You're not strong enough. You're not normal enough. You're not respectable enough. You're not wealthy enough. You're not human enough." Remus Lupin had heard those words over and over for fifteen years. He heard them when he wanted to play ball with the other children, when he wanted to go to school, when he wanted to apply for a Ministry job, when he wanted to live in a flat without drafts, when he wanted to apply for any job at all. The very last thing a Ministry Official sad to him was, "That's not enough," when Remus graduated Hogwarts with seven N.E.W.T.s and recommendations from Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Creevan, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers.
Remus used to think that the Ministry was wrong. When he was twelve, he survived the Paranteen Pox, even though the mediwizards expected him to die. When he was sixteen, Lily Evans smacked him for making a dirty joke about her breasts, which was exactly what she would have done to anyone else. When he was seventeen, James Potter told him he was amazed Remus wasn't Head Boy, because he had more established authority among the Gryffindors than James himself did. When he was eighteen, he was able to buy a heavy wool cloak with some scraped together savings, and still have money left over. And when he was nineteen he kissed Sirius for the first time, and he was told this would go far.
Then it began to fall apart, and Remus realized that the Ministry was right.
***
The old house echoed with silence. "I don't remember it ever being this quiet," Regulus said aloud, more to break the silence than anything.
"It's a house without children," the portrait of Druella Black informed him haughtily. "Of course it's silent."
"My flat isn't silent," Regulus pointed out. "And I certainly don't have children."
"Your life is empty," Druella snorted.
Regulus rolled his eyes. "Whatever." It was true, of course, but not for the piddling, stupid reason that he didn't have children. He slipped his hand in his pocket and clutched the heavy silver locket. It burned with a cold fire, but Regulus suspected that was his imagination. He turned away from Druella and continued down the hall.
He stopped for a moment outside a closed door, and then took a deep breath and pushed it open. A puff of dust heralded his arrival to his brother's old bedroom.
There was a poster of the Hobgoblins on the wall, with the band lounging about, drinking beer and playing cards instead of holding their instruments like they'd been last time Regulus had been in the room five years ago. Judging by the pile of coins on the ground Stubby Boardman had been winning for a few years now. There were some crumpled robes on the floor, and a few scattered books. The rug that covered the bed used to be a bright green, but the dust and sun had faded it to a mockery of the color it used to be. Regulus sat down on the bed and dropped his head into his hands.
Ghosts whispered in his ear, even if they didn't materialize as proper specters. He remembered fighting with Sirius over Remus Lupin. Regulus could see what Sirius's friendship with that Mudblood was doing to the family, but at the time he thought Sirius refused to see it. Sirius's anger had been white-edged and sharp-tongued, but Regulus had risked it because this was his family falling apart, and he had to stop it.
His family. Regulus laughed bitterly, the sound ricocheting off the walls and making the Hobgoblins stuff their poker game out of the frame and scramble for their instruments. His family. A brother that was dead to them, a father that barely spoke, and a mother lost in anger and bitterness. Some family.
But they were his, and even the Dark- no, Voldemort- could not change that. Would not change that.
Regulus collapsed onto the bed, pulling the faded rug around him and inhaling the scent of dust.
***
The flat was so quiet with Sirius gone. Remus hated it.
He'd tried living on his own for a while, before the money had become too tight and he'd had to admit to failure. But he'd hated it, even if he didn't have to deal with James's snoring and sharing a bathroom with the others. He missed the camaraderie, the late night forages, the closeness, the laughter. Hogwarts had truly been paradise, but when he'd moved in with Sirius, he'd been able to build his own little Eden.
The first year had been idyllic in a world that was being shot to hell. The flat became one of the three sanctuaries Remus knew, the other two being James and Lily's place, and Peter's cottage. It might have been chaos contained within leased walls, but it was warm with laughter and light and even if Remus couldn't say the words, love. And then Harry came, ostensibly into James and Lily's lives but really he came to all of them, and Remus felt hope.
But after that, it all began to fall apart.
There wasn't any one event he could point to. The war was like deadly smog, seeping into the cracks of their lives, and then spreading once it had a foothold. It made them all drawn and pale and tense, but that wasn't the worst of it. The worst was what it was doing to families.
It made James and Lily terrified for their baby. Before, the Potters had defined their family as six people- more, even. Harry was one of the two darlings of the Order. But now, they had to isolate their tiny unit, because they didn't know who to trust. Harry's extended family was being chipped away each day, and so was any comfort that James and Lily found from their friends.
Peter was pushed to exhaustion. He had a mother and three sisters, whom he considered quite defenseless. Remus couldn't blame him- if his mother was still alive, he'd feel the same. And Remus could see the gleam of resentment in Peter's eyes every time he talked about them, because while he had to stay home and protect them, his dreams of traveling to Egypt and doing research on the sphinx were impossible, even though he'd gotten the funding and the papers.
But at least Peter loved his family. At least he could protect them. Sirius… Sirius couldn't even admit to himself what he felt when he saw his brother's face in the paper, or heard the news of his father's slow decline. He claimed he felt nothing, but all of them knew Sirius well enough to know that he was lying, most of all to himself.
And as for Remus, he could only sit and watch as the family he'd put together for himself fell away piece by piece.
The snow swirled in the wind outside, and Remus wrapped a blanket tighter around his skinny shoulders, hoping Sirius and James were safe in Bristol.
***
The knife point cut into his skin, but Regulus gloried in the pain. It was like fire, cleansing and purifying, even as it burned. The deep red blood oozed down his arm to stain his black robe, and he watched the patterns streaking his arm with a detached interest.
One cut. Two cuts. Three. Four. He wanted to keep as much skin as possible. Flaying himself had never been high on his list of things to do before he died.
Heh. Before he died.
He peeled the skin back, cutting at it clumsily. The piece came off, and blood soaked through his robe to his leg. He stifled something like a scream.
He looked at his arm, and then he had to scream, because the skin was gone, but the Dark Mark was still there, burned into the muscle beneath. As he watched, the skin grew back, in a process more painful than the removal ever could have been. The cuts he'd made healed into ugly scabbed-over messes.
He tried again, cutting a wider swath of skin away. And once again it grew back, searing through his body as if each cell was a white-hot needle snaking through his veins.
He dropped the knife and stood up. He managed to take three steps before he fell to the floor, shaking uncontrollably.
He buried his face in his arms, and for the first time since he'd stolen the locket, he cried.
***
The moon would be full tomorrow night. Remus looked out the window again and sighed. Sirius and James would be away, but at least Peter was still around. It would be enough- Remus could always make do.
It was frustrating, though. Sirius and James were battling Death Eaters in bolts of magic and glory, and Remus was sitting here sipping soup and dreading the full moon, grateful for the assistance of a rat. If life had only been different….
But he couldn't even make his mind work through all the things that would have changed if he hadn't been bitten sixteen years ago.
He sighed again and cradled the warm mug in his cold hands, and wished for glory.
***
There was a crash from below. It was just a little one, like someone had knocked a vase to the ground. Regulus raised his head, eyes bloodshot and narrowing. He took a deep breath, and then another, and steadied his limbs. Someone was here.
He pushed to his feet, slowly, uncertain of the movements of his body. After a few false starts, his limbs obeyed him, and he crept out of his room. The carpeting swallowed any sound he might make as he padded slowly towards the stairs.
He heard a deep rumble and his heartbeat sped up. Father… Regulus peeked down the stairs.
There were three robed and masked Death Eaters, and Regulus knew why they were here. He glanced around frantically, and then darted into the library, every joint crying out in protest at the speed of his movement. He ignored the pain and fished the locket out of his pocket, shoving it into a drawer in the cabinet that his mother displayed family relics in. He'd come back for it later, he told himself firmly. He took one more deep breath and then ran.
He heard the explosion as he sprinted down the stairs. It wasn't the kind that blew up houses- just people. But his father's scream echoed, lingering long after the explosion. And as Regulus ran towards the sound, he heard his father croaking his name and his mother's. He couldn't stop, because if he did he would cry again.
He burst onto the scene, a chaos of black robes, featureless masks, and disarrayed possessions. His father lay on the floor, curled in a fetal position and clutching his side. Blood was trickling from his mouth.
"I'm here," Regulus told them, and then ran. It was enough to make them chase him.
It was a wild chase. Even if he had been in full health Regulus would have made sure of that. There was no sense in escaping too easily- they would only hunt him later and stay to finish off his father. As he ran, he found himself chanting a prayer that his mother would find his father, and she would be able to save him.
He lost them, eventually, after hexes and curses and one first-year jinx that did more damage than any Death Eater should ever succumb to. He stood in the snow, panting desperately. He'd lost them. He hadn't quite expected that.
He kept running anyway, and a plan began to form.
***
They weren't coming home tonight. Remus knew that, because Sirius had said they wouldn't be home until after the full moon. He scolded himself for waiting and took his mug out to the kitchen, rinsing it under water. He was passing by the door of the flat when the bell rang.
Sirius would have yelled at him for opening the door without looking. In retrospect, it was immensely stupid. Remus was lucky that the only Death Eater that fell through the door was a sodden, cold, shaking one who looked up at him with ice blue eyes.
"Sanctuary," Regulus whispered.
"You've been reading too many Muggle novels," Remus said before he could guard his tongue. "What is it, Quasimodo?" Then he looked at Regulus- really looked- and saw the dark bloodstains set against black wool, the torn robes, and the white stark terror of his face. "Oh, good God, come in."
Regulus followed him, his breathing calming from ragged and heavy to something more even. Remus found himself at a bit of a loss. "Can I get you anything? Something to drink or eat?"
"Do you even have anything?"
Remus relaxed at the snide comment. Saying he and Regulus had never gotten along was like saying oil was somewhat insoluble in water. Regulus scared and shaking and clinging was unfamiliar. Regulus barely restraining insults was normal. Without a word, Remus poured them both a glass of whiskey. Regulus took his gratefully and bolted the contents, coughing as the liquid burned its fiery path down his throat.
"What are you doing here?" Remus asked finally.
"I told you."
"So you did." Remus picked up his glass, took a sip, and then turned it to watch the light play off the amber liquid. "Sirius isn't here, you know."
"Believe it or not, I know. He's with Potter in Bristol, chasing down Ambrose."
Remus blinked. "But you're coming to me for help?"
"Yes." Regulus pulled his sleeve up and Remus recoiled at the sight of his mutilated arm. "You're supposed to be a smart boy," he said. "Figure it out."
Remus took another long sip, and the pieces fell into place very quickly. "You need help," he said slowly, "because you want to leave the Death Eaters. You're in too deep. But naturally, Voldemort-" he noticed that Regulus didn't react to the name- "does not take kindly to your 'Dear John' attempts. You want to live. You need help to survive. But you're very aware that whoever helps you, if they're caught…" He sighed and put the glass down. "I had no idea that you still loved Sirius."
Regulus looked away. "Neither did I."
***
They left the flat in silence. The Death Eaters were looking for him, and Apparation would have been red sparks in the night giving away his location. Regulus couldn't say he truly cared if Remus Lupin lived or died, but if Remus did die, then Regulus was probably dead too. At least right now. So they slipped out of the flat in Muggle clothing, with coats and gloves and hats obscuring their identities as thoroughly as possible. They stepped outside, and Regulus yelped as the wind immediately froze the denims against his legs.
"Muggles are insane," he declared.
"Oh lovely. So you killed off innocent people because of their choice in clothing?" Remus scowled, burying his face deeper in his muffler. "Brilliant logic."
"Shut up," was the best Regulus could come up with, because Remus's snarled remark had hit far to close to home. "At least I never ate anyone."
Remus ignored him smoothly, and Regulus thrust his hands deeper into his pockets. Stupid Remus had insisted on no magic right now, claiming it would be too obvious. So what if he was right? Regulus was still cold.
"Where are we going anyway?" Regulus demanded.
Remus didn't answer, just looked back over his shoulder. Regulus sighed. Why had he come here again? He could have done this on his own. He could have escaped. He could have hid. He could have survived.
Then the Dark Mark etched deep into his arm burned, and he knew he couldn't.
Remus stopped suddenly, and Regulus's legs buckled. He was used to the pain that was normally associated with the Dark Lord's summons, but it ended when you responded with prompt obedience. This time it grew and grew until his arm and then his body was encased in a white hot flash. It ended abruptly, leaving him standing on street corner next to a werewolf who was watching intently for something. Regulus followed his gaze, and saw the headlights slowing as the bus approached them.
Brakes squealed and the deep scent of diesel fumes assaulted his nose. Regulus was almost startled to see that the bus wasn't purple, but an anonymous Muggle bus like the ones he didn't bother to notice every day. Remus climbed on and dropped a few coins into the cash box. Regulus followed.
It was nothing like the Knight Bus. The seats were cold, hard plastic and they lined an aisle that even two skinny young men had to squeeze to fit down. There were filthy poles, one which had a wad of gray-pink chewing gum stuck to it. Remus settled in a seat and picked up a discarded newspaper. Regulus sat down next to him, their arms and knees touching. He was mildly surprised to notice that Remus felt like any other person would.
He looked out the window, watching the lights of Muggle London flash by in blurs. If this was the Knight Bus, Regulus could close his eyes and try to sleep, but the Muggle bus was rough and the seats were uncomfortable. "Where are we going?" he asked finally.
"Across town. I just didn't want to leave from our flat," Remus explained. "We'll Apparate to Hogwarts."
"Genius, you can't Apparate onto Hogwarts grounds. And if we show up in Hogsmeade-"
"Well, of course," Remus said crossly. "They'll be looking for you there. We'll Apparate into the Shrieking Shack."
"And that will help us how?"
"Just trust me."
Regulus snorted. "So what are we doing at Hogwarts? It's not like I can hide there forever."
"No, but Dumbledore can help us come up with something."
His stomach lurched at Dumbledore's name, and for a moment he thought he'd be sick all over the floor. (Not that anyone would notice, looking at the floor.) Remus just kept reading the paper. Regulus sighed and closed his eyes. He knew sleep was futile, but he tried anyway.
***
The words swam in front of Remus's eyes, but he couldn't focus on the paper. There was a sour smell about Regulus, something like death, decay, or stale vomit. It wasn't so much that the scent was offensive, it was more that it made it impossible to forget about the man sitting next to him.
The bus driver announced their destination in garbled tones, and Remus nudged Regulus. "This is it," he said quietly. "When we get out, Apparate right away to the Shrieking Shack."
Regulus rolled his eyes, and Remus sensed that there was an edge of trepidation about him. Good. He closed his eyes and disappeared.
When he opened them again, he found himself in the bedroom where he'd ended so many transformations. He sat down on the bed, waiting. The smell of mold and dust was heavy in his nostrils, and he could hear Regulus pounding around downstairs. He should go down and find the dimwitted twerp, but he was oddly reluctant to move.
He remembered nights here, running in the woods with Sirius and James and Peter. The memories were fuzzy, but filled with a raw joy that had flooded all his senses. Even the pain of the transformation had been dulled by the promise of the night to come, or the memory of what had transpired. Full moon nights were nowhere near as carefree, now. The others still joined him when they could, but the war had taken that away, and full moon nights were burdens instead of adventures. Remus sighed and wrapped the dusty coverlet around his legs for a moment, but the peace eluded him, and not just because Regulus was pounding up the stairs.
"This isn't a time for a nap," Regulus snapped.
"Just reminiscing," Remus said as angelically as possible.
Regulus made a face and recoiled, and Remus ran a hand down the bedpost. Not that it was at all accurate- he and Sirius had never done anything like that at school- but it was fun to needle Regulus one more time. "You know I love him," he said coquettishly.
"So why aren't you in Bristol?" Regulus demanded.
Remus snarled. "Come on," he said, standing up.
He led the way downstairs. "You don't have to walk on my heels," he said when his shoe slipped off. "The place isn't haunted."
"I never thought it was," Regulus said.
Remus turned around and arched an eyebrow. "Really," he said skeptically. "As far as I know, everyone believed it."
"Not me. Look at the ghosts in Hogwarts. They're pretty silent. Besides, the back issues of The Daily Prophet don't really start mentioning the spirits until 1968, and the house has been built since 1918, and uninhabited since 1962."
"How the hell do you know all that?" Remus demanded.
"I did a paper on it for History of Magic," Regulus said with a shrug. "It was my favorite class."
"Now I know you're strange," Remus muttered. "You never heard the noises?"
"Well, of course I did, but it wasn't exactly worth that much thought. Now it all makes sense."
"And yet, you still walk on the back of my shoes."
"Oh, gee. I wonder what I could possibly have to fear, knowing that the Death Eaters have been called and I'm not there."
"And hiding behind a werewolf is so manly. If I were you, I'd face them with a giant 'fuck you'?"
"Then why don't you?"
Remus let out a deep breath and opened the door that led into the tunnel. "Shut up and follow me," he said, leading the way. "It won't be long now."
***
Regulus followed. He should be feeling more at ease as they crept closer and closer to Hogwarts. He knew he'd be safe there. But…
But suddenly he knew safe wasn't what he wanted.
"Wait."
Remus turned. "What?"
"I'm not sure I want to do this."
Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Why not?"
He struggled for the words. "What would you do, if you knew that the people you left behind were still in danger?"
"I wouldn't leave them behind. You're not talking about the Death Eaters, are you?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Regulus scowled. "My family."
"But if you tell Dumbledore what you know, you can protect them," Remus pointed out.
"No. He can protect them."
"So?"
"It's not the same thing," Regulus snapped.
"It accomplishes the same end."
Regulus shook his head. "No. I can't do this."
"Regulus!"
Regulus turned around. "I can't. I can't do this."
"If you hide now and live, you can fight another day," Remus pointed out. "What will your death accomplish? Telling Dumbledore all that you know would help defeat Voldemort. Your life would be far more useful than your death."
"To everyone else." Regulus smiled bitterly. "But my family would be dead. Do you honestly think they'd accept Dumbledore's protection?"
"Guess not."
"Remus?"
"Yes?"
"Don't tell Sirius."
"Why shouldn't I?"
Regulus bit his lip. "Because he would come after me. He would get me to go to Dumbledore. He would tell me that Mum and Dad's deaths would be justified. And I won't let that happen to my family."
Remus cringed, but he nodded.
"We all want to be heroes," Regulus said. "So thanks, but no thanks. I'll see my way from here."
***
The obituary appeared a week later. Remus knew it was there when the paper dropped from Sirius's hands.
"Moony, did you see…" Sirius began quietly.
"Regulus?"
"You saw?"
"No, but I knew."
Sirius put the paper down. "How?"
Remus swallowed. "He came here, while you were gone. He needed help. My help."
"Your help? He was my brother!" Sirius said, in a low, flat voice. "Why would he come to you?"
Because if the Death Eaters ever found out, they'd kill whoever helped him. He wanted me dead instead of you. But he couldn't say that- not to Sirius. "I have no bloody idea, Sirius. I certainly didn't ask for him to come to me."
"It doesn't make sense! He was MY BROTHER! At least I wouldn't have turned him away!"
Remus jerked back. "I didn't turn him away!" Sirius stared at him skeptically. "I didn't!" Remus protested. "I wouldn't! He was your brother!"
"Then where is he?" Sirius flung his arms wide. "Why is he dead, if you didn't turn him away?"
"I took him to Dumbledore." Or at least he had tried. "Sirius, I took him to Dumbledore and that's the honest truth. He was a Death Eater. He showed me the Mark. I did what I could, Sirius."
"It wasn't enough," said Sirius fiercely. He threw the paper to the floor. "You should have done more."
"I did what I could," Remus said, although he knew he was lying. "For you, I tried to protect him. And if Albus Dumbledore wasn't strong enough, how could I be?"
"You probably gave him back to Voldemort!" Sirius stood up angrily.
"Sirius!" Remus's voice was the crack of thunder after brittle lightning, caught between two storm clouds. "I would never, never betray you. I would kill myself first, and though there was never any love lost between me and Regulus, I would protect him for your sake. You know that. I did what I could. It wasn't enough, but that," his voice broke, "that is what war is."
Sirius nodded and sat back down, staring out into space. For a moment, Remus considered telling Sirius what had happened. But Sirius couldn't change it, and he'd only drive himself to madness thinking about it.
Regulus had found his heroics in action and death. Remus would have to find his in inaction and life.
Too bad it wouldn't be enough.
Author: lupinslittlesis
Summary: Desperation makes Regulus turn to his least favorite "person" in the world.
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Harry Potter
Title, Author and URL of original story: The original story is Do You See Someone With a Future? by leiascully.
"You're not big enough. You're not old enough. You're not strong enough. You're not brave enough. You're not exciting enough." Regulus Black had heard those words over and over for fifteen years. He heard them when he wanted to see what Sirius was looking at, when he wanted to play Quidditch, when he wanted to help Sirius with his trunk, when he wanted to be in Sirius's House, when he wanted to join Sirius and his friends in whatever they were doing. The very last thing Sirius had said to him was, "That's not enough," when Regulus had told Sirius he loved him and that he shouldn't run away.
Regulus used to think that Sirius was wrong. When he was twelve, Rabastan Lestrange told him he would be a fantastic Beater. When he was sixteen, he left school to join the Death Eaters and his parents encouraged him. When he was seventeen, he found his father on the floor and got him to St. Mungo's without the help of magic, because his wand was too far away. When he was eighteen, he had stood and watched people being tortured and killed, even though he wanted to look away. And when he was nineteen, he killed a man for the first time, and he was told he would go far.
Then it began to fall apart, and Regulus realized that Sirius was right.
***
"You're not strong enough. You're not normal enough. You're not respectable enough. You're not wealthy enough. You're not human enough." Remus Lupin had heard those words over and over for fifteen years. He heard them when he wanted to play ball with the other children, when he wanted to go to school, when he wanted to apply for a Ministry job, when he wanted to live in a flat without drafts, when he wanted to apply for any job at all. The very last thing a Ministry Official sad to him was, "That's not enough," when Remus graduated Hogwarts with seven N.E.W.T.s and recommendations from Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Creevan, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers.
Remus used to think that the Ministry was wrong. When he was twelve, he survived the Paranteen Pox, even though the mediwizards expected him to die. When he was sixteen, Lily Evans smacked him for making a dirty joke about her breasts, which was exactly what she would have done to anyone else. When he was seventeen, James Potter told him he was amazed Remus wasn't Head Boy, because he had more established authority among the Gryffindors than James himself did. When he was eighteen, he was able to buy a heavy wool cloak with some scraped together savings, and still have money left over. And when he was nineteen he kissed Sirius for the first time, and he was told this would go far.
Then it began to fall apart, and Remus realized that the Ministry was right.
***
The old house echoed with silence. "I don't remember it ever being this quiet," Regulus said aloud, more to break the silence than anything.
"It's a house without children," the portrait of Druella Black informed him haughtily. "Of course it's silent."
"My flat isn't silent," Regulus pointed out. "And I certainly don't have children."
"Your life is empty," Druella snorted.
Regulus rolled his eyes. "Whatever." It was true, of course, but not for the piddling, stupid reason that he didn't have children. He slipped his hand in his pocket and clutched the heavy silver locket. It burned with a cold fire, but Regulus suspected that was his imagination. He turned away from Druella and continued down the hall.
He stopped for a moment outside a closed door, and then took a deep breath and pushed it open. A puff of dust heralded his arrival to his brother's old bedroom.
There was a poster of the Hobgoblins on the wall, with the band lounging about, drinking beer and playing cards instead of holding their instruments like they'd been last time Regulus had been in the room five years ago. Judging by the pile of coins on the ground Stubby Boardman had been winning for a few years now. There were some crumpled robes on the floor, and a few scattered books. The rug that covered the bed used to be a bright green, but the dust and sun had faded it to a mockery of the color it used to be. Regulus sat down on the bed and dropped his head into his hands.
Ghosts whispered in his ear, even if they didn't materialize as proper specters. He remembered fighting with Sirius over Remus Lupin. Regulus could see what Sirius's friendship with that Mudblood was doing to the family, but at the time he thought Sirius refused to see it. Sirius's anger had been white-edged and sharp-tongued, but Regulus had risked it because this was his family falling apart, and he had to stop it.
His family. Regulus laughed bitterly, the sound ricocheting off the walls and making the Hobgoblins stuff their poker game out of the frame and scramble for their instruments. His family. A brother that was dead to them, a father that barely spoke, and a mother lost in anger and bitterness. Some family.
But they were his, and even the Dark- no, Voldemort- could not change that. Would not change that.
Regulus collapsed onto the bed, pulling the faded rug around him and inhaling the scent of dust.
***
The flat was so quiet with Sirius gone. Remus hated it.
He'd tried living on his own for a while, before the money had become too tight and he'd had to admit to failure. But he'd hated it, even if he didn't have to deal with James's snoring and sharing a bathroom with the others. He missed the camaraderie, the late night forages, the closeness, the laughter. Hogwarts had truly been paradise, but when he'd moved in with Sirius, he'd been able to build his own little Eden.
The first year had been idyllic in a world that was being shot to hell. The flat became one of the three sanctuaries Remus knew, the other two being James and Lily's place, and Peter's cottage. It might have been chaos contained within leased walls, but it was warm with laughter and light and even if Remus couldn't say the words, love. And then Harry came, ostensibly into James and Lily's lives but really he came to all of them, and Remus felt hope.
But after that, it all began to fall apart.
There wasn't any one event he could point to. The war was like deadly smog, seeping into the cracks of their lives, and then spreading once it had a foothold. It made them all drawn and pale and tense, but that wasn't the worst of it. The worst was what it was doing to families.
It made James and Lily terrified for their baby. Before, the Potters had defined their family as six people- more, even. Harry was one of the two darlings of the Order. But now, they had to isolate their tiny unit, because they didn't know who to trust. Harry's extended family was being chipped away each day, and so was any comfort that James and Lily found from their friends.
Peter was pushed to exhaustion. He had a mother and three sisters, whom he considered quite defenseless. Remus couldn't blame him- if his mother was still alive, he'd feel the same. And Remus could see the gleam of resentment in Peter's eyes every time he talked about them, because while he had to stay home and protect them, his dreams of traveling to Egypt and doing research on the sphinx were impossible, even though he'd gotten the funding and the papers.
But at least Peter loved his family. At least he could protect them. Sirius… Sirius couldn't even admit to himself what he felt when he saw his brother's face in the paper, or heard the news of his father's slow decline. He claimed he felt nothing, but all of them knew Sirius well enough to know that he was lying, most of all to himself.
And as for Remus, he could only sit and watch as the family he'd put together for himself fell away piece by piece.
The snow swirled in the wind outside, and Remus wrapped a blanket tighter around his skinny shoulders, hoping Sirius and James were safe in Bristol.
***
The knife point cut into his skin, but Regulus gloried in the pain. It was like fire, cleansing and purifying, even as it burned. The deep red blood oozed down his arm to stain his black robe, and he watched the patterns streaking his arm with a detached interest.
One cut. Two cuts. Three. Four. He wanted to keep as much skin as possible. Flaying himself had never been high on his list of things to do before he died.
Heh. Before he died.
He peeled the skin back, cutting at it clumsily. The piece came off, and blood soaked through his robe to his leg. He stifled something like a scream.
He looked at his arm, and then he had to scream, because the skin was gone, but the Dark Mark was still there, burned into the muscle beneath. As he watched, the skin grew back, in a process more painful than the removal ever could have been. The cuts he'd made healed into ugly scabbed-over messes.
He tried again, cutting a wider swath of skin away. And once again it grew back, searing through his body as if each cell was a white-hot needle snaking through his veins.
He dropped the knife and stood up. He managed to take three steps before he fell to the floor, shaking uncontrollably.
He buried his face in his arms, and for the first time since he'd stolen the locket, he cried.
***
The moon would be full tomorrow night. Remus looked out the window again and sighed. Sirius and James would be away, but at least Peter was still around. It would be enough- Remus could always make do.
It was frustrating, though. Sirius and James were battling Death Eaters in bolts of magic and glory, and Remus was sitting here sipping soup and dreading the full moon, grateful for the assistance of a rat. If life had only been different….
But he couldn't even make his mind work through all the things that would have changed if he hadn't been bitten sixteen years ago.
He sighed again and cradled the warm mug in his cold hands, and wished for glory.
***
There was a crash from below. It was just a little one, like someone had knocked a vase to the ground. Regulus raised his head, eyes bloodshot and narrowing. He took a deep breath, and then another, and steadied his limbs. Someone was here.
He pushed to his feet, slowly, uncertain of the movements of his body. After a few false starts, his limbs obeyed him, and he crept out of his room. The carpeting swallowed any sound he might make as he padded slowly towards the stairs.
He heard a deep rumble and his heartbeat sped up. Father… Regulus peeked down the stairs.
There were three robed and masked Death Eaters, and Regulus knew why they were here. He glanced around frantically, and then darted into the library, every joint crying out in protest at the speed of his movement. He ignored the pain and fished the locket out of his pocket, shoving it into a drawer in the cabinet that his mother displayed family relics in. He'd come back for it later, he told himself firmly. He took one more deep breath and then ran.
He heard the explosion as he sprinted down the stairs. It wasn't the kind that blew up houses- just people. But his father's scream echoed, lingering long after the explosion. And as Regulus ran towards the sound, he heard his father croaking his name and his mother's. He couldn't stop, because if he did he would cry again.
He burst onto the scene, a chaos of black robes, featureless masks, and disarrayed possessions. His father lay on the floor, curled in a fetal position and clutching his side. Blood was trickling from his mouth.
"I'm here," Regulus told them, and then ran. It was enough to make them chase him.
It was a wild chase. Even if he had been in full health Regulus would have made sure of that. There was no sense in escaping too easily- they would only hunt him later and stay to finish off his father. As he ran, he found himself chanting a prayer that his mother would find his father, and she would be able to save him.
He lost them, eventually, after hexes and curses and one first-year jinx that did more damage than any Death Eater should ever succumb to. He stood in the snow, panting desperately. He'd lost them. He hadn't quite expected that.
He kept running anyway, and a plan began to form.
***
They weren't coming home tonight. Remus knew that, because Sirius had said they wouldn't be home until after the full moon. He scolded himself for waiting and took his mug out to the kitchen, rinsing it under water. He was passing by the door of the flat when the bell rang.
Sirius would have yelled at him for opening the door without looking. In retrospect, it was immensely stupid. Remus was lucky that the only Death Eater that fell through the door was a sodden, cold, shaking one who looked up at him with ice blue eyes.
"Sanctuary," Regulus whispered.
"You've been reading too many Muggle novels," Remus said before he could guard his tongue. "What is it, Quasimodo?" Then he looked at Regulus- really looked- and saw the dark bloodstains set against black wool, the torn robes, and the white stark terror of his face. "Oh, good God, come in."
Regulus followed him, his breathing calming from ragged and heavy to something more even. Remus found himself at a bit of a loss. "Can I get you anything? Something to drink or eat?"
"Do you even have anything?"
Remus relaxed at the snide comment. Saying he and Regulus had never gotten along was like saying oil was somewhat insoluble in water. Regulus scared and shaking and clinging was unfamiliar. Regulus barely restraining insults was normal. Without a word, Remus poured them both a glass of whiskey. Regulus took his gratefully and bolted the contents, coughing as the liquid burned its fiery path down his throat.
"What are you doing here?" Remus asked finally.
"I told you."
"So you did." Remus picked up his glass, took a sip, and then turned it to watch the light play off the amber liquid. "Sirius isn't here, you know."
"Believe it or not, I know. He's with Potter in Bristol, chasing down Ambrose."
Remus blinked. "But you're coming to me for help?"
"Yes." Regulus pulled his sleeve up and Remus recoiled at the sight of his mutilated arm. "You're supposed to be a smart boy," he said. "Figure it out."
Remus took another long sip, and the pieces fell into place very quickly. "You need help," he said slowly, "because you want to leave the Death Eaters. You're in too deep. But naturally, Voldemort-" he noticed that Regulus didn't react to the name- "does not take kindly to your 'Dear John' attempts. You want to live. You need help to survive. But you're very aware that whoever helps you, if they're caught…" He sighed and put the glass down. "I had no idea that you still loved Sirius."
Regulus looked away. "Neither did I."
***
They left the flat in silence. The Death Eaters were looking for him, and Apparation would have been red sparks in the night giving away his location. Regulus couldn't say he truly cared if Remus Lupin lived or died, but if Remus did die, then Regulus was probably dead too. At least right now. So they slipped out of the flat in Muggle clothing, with coats and gloves and hats obscuring their identities as thoroughly as possible. They stepped outside, and Regulus yelped as the wind immediately froze the denims against his legs.
"Muggles are insane," he declared.
"Oh lovely. So you killed off innocent people because of their choice in clothing?" Remus scowled, burying his face deeper in his muffler. "Brilliant logic."
"Shut up," was the best Regulus could come up with, because Remus's snarled remark had hit far to close to home. "At least I never ate anyone."
Remus ignored him smoothly, and Regulus thrust his hands deeper into his pockets. Stupid Remus had insisted on no magic right now, claiming it would be too obvious. So what if he was right? Regulus was still cold.
"Where are we going anyway?" Regulus demanded.
Remus didn't answer, just looked back over his shoulder. Regulus sighed. Why had he come here again? He could have done this on his own. He could have escaped. He could have hid. He could have survived.
Then the Dark Mark etched deep into his arm burned, and he knew he couldn't.
Remus stopped suddenly, and Regulus's legs buckled. He was used to the pain that was normally associated with the Dark Lord's summons, but it ended when you responded with prompt obedience. This time it grew and grew until his arm and then his body was encased in a white hot flash. It ended abruptly, leaving him standing on street corner next to a werewolf who was watching intently for something. Regulus followed his gaze, and saw the headlights slowing as the bus approached them.
Brakes squealed and the deep scent of diesel fumes assaulted his nose. Regulus was almost startled to see that the bus wasn't purple, but an anonymous Muggle bus like the ones he didn't bother to notice every day. Remus climbed on and dropped a few coins into the cash box. Regulus followed.
It was nothing like the Knight Bus. The seats were cold, hard plastic and they lined an aisle that even two skinny young men had to squeeze to fit down. There were filthy poles, one which had a wad of gray-pink chewing gum stuck to it. Remus settled in a seat and picked up a discarded newspaper. Regulus sat down next to him, their arms and knees touching. He was mildly surprised to notice that Remus felt like any other person would.
He looked out the window, watching the lights of Muggle London flash by in blurs. If this was the Knight Bus, Regulus could close his eyes and try to sleep, but the Muggle bus was rough and the seats were uncomfortable. "Where are we going?" he asked finally.
"Across town. I just didn't want to leave from our flat," Remus explained. "We'll Apparate to Hogwarts."
"Genius, you can't Apparate onto Hogwarts grounds. And if we show up in Hogsmeade-"
"Well, of course," Remus said crossly. "They'll be looking for you there. We'll Apparate into the Shrieking Shack."
"And that will help us how?"
"Just trust me."
Regulus snorted. "So what are we doing at Hogwarts? It's not like I can hide there forever."
"No, but Dumbledore can help us come up with something."
His stomach lurched at Dumbledore's name, and for a moment he thought he'd be sick all over the floor. (Not that anyone would notice, looking at the floor.) Remus just kept reading the paper. Regulus sighed and closed his eyes. He knew sleep was futile, but he tried anyway.
***
The words swam in front of Remus's eyes, but he couldn't focus on the paper. There was a sour smell about Regulus, something like death, decay, or stale vomit. It wasn't so much that the scent was offensive, it was more that it made it impossible to forget about the man sitting next to him.
The bus driver announced their destination in garbled tones, and Remus nudged Regulus. "This is it," he said quietly. "When we get out, Apparate right away to the Shrieking Shack."
Regulus rolled his eyes, and Remus sensed that there was an edge of trepidation about him. Good. He closed his eyes and disappeared.
When he opened them again, he found himself in the bedroom where he'd ended so many transformations. He sat down on the bed, waiting. The smell of mold and dust was heavy in his nostrils, and he could hear Regulus pounding around downstairs. He should go down and find the dimwitted twerp, but he was oddly reluctant to move.
He remembered nights here, running in the woods with Sirius and James and Peter. The memories were fuzzy, but filled with a raw joy that had flooded all his senses. Even the pain of the transformation had been dulled by the promise of the night to come, or the memory of what had transpired. Full moon nights were nowhere near as carefree, now. The others still joined him when they could, but the war had taken that away, and full moon nights were burdens instead of adventures. Remus sighed and wrapped the dusty coverlet around his legs for a moment, but the peace eluded him, and not just because Regulus was pounding up the stairs.
"This isn't a time for a nap," Regulus snapped.
"Just reminiscing," Remus said as angelically as possible.
Regulus made a face and recoiled, and Remus ran a hand down the bedpost. Not that it was at all accurate- he and Sirius had never done anything like that at school- but it was fun to needle Regulus one more time. "You know I love him," he said coquettishly.
"So why aren't you in Bristol?" Regulus demanded.
Remus snarled. "Come on," he said, standing up.
He led the way downstairs. "You don't have to walk on my heels," he said when his shoe slipped off. "The place isn't haunted."
"I never thought it was," Regulus said.
Remus turned around and arched an eyebrow. "Really," he said skeptically. "As far as I know, everyone believed it."
"Not me. Look at the ghosts in Hogwarts. They're pretty silent. Besides, the back issues of The Daily Prophet don't really start mentioning the spirits until 1968, and the house has been built since 1918, and uninhabited since 1962."
"How the hell do you know all that?" Remus demanded.
"I did a paper on it for History of Magic," Regulus said with a shrug. "It was my favorite class."
"Now I know you're strange," Remus muttered. "You never heard the noises?"
"Well, of course I did, but it wasn't exactly worth that much thought. Now it all makes sense."
"And yet, you still walk on the back of my shoes."
"Oh, gee. I wonder what I could possibly have to fear, knowing that the Death Eaters have been called and I'm not there."
"And hiding behind a werewolf is so manly. If I were you, I'd face them with a giant 'fuck you'?"
"Then why don't you?"
Remus let out a deep breath and opened the door that led into the tunnel. "Shut up and follow me," he said, leading the way. "It won't be long now."
***
Regulus followed. He should be feeling more at ease as they crept closer and closer to Hogwarts. He knew he'd be safe there. But…
But suddenly he knew safe wasn't what he wanted.
"Wait."
Remus turned. "What?"
"I'm not sure I want to do this."
Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Why not?"
He struggled for the words. "What would you do, if you knew that the people you left behind were still in danger?"
"I wouldn't leave them behind. You're not talking about the Death Eaters, are you?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Regulus scowled. "My family."
"But if you tell Dumbledore what you know, you can protect them," Remus pointed out.
"No. He can protect them."
"So?"
"It's not the same thing," Regulus snapped.
"It accomplishes the same end."
Regulus shook his head. "No. I can't do this."
"Regulus!"
Regulus turned around. "I can't. I can't do this."
"If you hide now and live, you can fight another day," Remus pointed out. "What will your death accomplish? Telling Dumbledore all that you know would help defeat Voldemort. Your life would be far more useful than your death."
"To everyone else." Regulus smiled bitterly. "But my family would be dead. Do you honestly think they'd accept Dumbledore's protection?"
"Guess not."
"Remus?"
"Yes?"
"Don't tell Sirius."
"Why shouldn't I?"
Regulus bit his lip. "Because he would come after me. He would get me to go to Dumbledore. He would tell me that Mum and Dad's deaths would be justified. And I won't let that happen to my family."
Remus cringed, but he nodded.
"We all want to be heroes," Regulus said. "So thanks, but no thanks. I'll see my way from here."
***
The obituary appeared a week later. Remus knew it was there when the paper dropped from Sirius's hands.
"Moony, did you see…" Sirius began quietly.
"Regulus?"
"You saw?"
"No, but I knew."
Sirius put the paper down. "How?"
Remus swallowed. "He came here, while you were gone. He needed help. My help."
"Your help? He was my brother!" Sirius said, in a low, flat voice. "Why would he come to you?"
Because if the Death Eaters ever found out, they'd kill whoever helped him. He wanted me dead instead of you. But he couldn't say that- not to Sirius. "I have no bloody idea, Sirius. I certainly didn't ask for him to come to me."
"It doesn't make sense! He was MY BROTHER! At least I wouldn't have turned him away!"
Remus jerked back. "I didn't turn him away!" Sirius stared at him skeptically. "I didn't!" Remus protested. "I wouldn't! He was your brother!"
"Then where is he?" Sirius flung his arms wide. "Why is he dead, if you didn't turn him away?"
"I took him to Dumbledore." Or at least he had tried. "Sirius, I took him to Dumbledore and that's the honest truth. He was a Death Eater. He showed me the Mark. I did what I could, Sirius."
"It wasn't enough," said Sirius fiercely. He threw the paper to the floor. "You should have done more."
"I did what I could," Remus said, although he knew he was lying. "For you, I tried to protect him. And if Albus Dumbledore wasn't strong enough, how could I be?"
"You probably gave him back to Voldemort!" Sirius stood up angrily.
"Sirius!" Remus's voice was the crack of thunder after brittle lightning, caught between two storm clouds. "I would never, never betray you. I would kill myself first, and though there was never any love lost between me and Regulus, I would protect him for your sake. You know that. I did what I could. It wasn't enough, but that," his voice broke, "that is what war is."
Sirius nodded and sat back down, staring out into space. For a moment, Remus considered telling Sirius what had happened. But Sirius couldn't change it, and he'd only drive himself to madness thinking about it.
Regulus had found his heroics in action and death. Remus would have to find his in inaction and life.
Too bad it wouldn't be enough.