Once Chapter 13

It was better that he had known how Mr. Evan’s felt before this night. It made things easier. Tomorrow morning he would meet Lily in front of her house, they would go to Diagon Alley. They would shop for their school supplies together just as they had when they were children. He would pretend, for her sake that everything was fine, that nothing had changed. It would be a lie, but he would keep it as long as possible, for her sake. He wanted to see her blissfully happy just one more day.

It was a dream. It would have to end eventually. He had always known this, but the bitter taste clinging to the roof of his mouth after having lost the contents of his stomach in the cool porcelain bowl of the Malfoy’s toilet was a brutal reminder, the sounds of the old man’s screams in his ears as he tortured him again, and again, the final nail in the lid of a coffin that he had been preparing for himself for months.

Mr. Evans had expectations for his daughter, expectations for anyone his daughter might be with. He insisted that such a boy conduct himself with morals, decorum, respect. He wanted his daughter to be loved by a good boy, a moral boy, a tender, kind, respectful boy. He was none of these things. He could never be those things ever again after tonight. The black mark scorched into his forearm guaranteed it.

Even Malfoy seemed shocked that the Dark Lord had broken his own vow, that he had initiated him so soon. Usually there was a waiting period, several initiatory duties to be completed, and then and only then would one receive the mark. To have received it so quickly was a mark of great honor. It was obvious that the Dark Lord had great need of his particular brand of talent.

There had of course been nothing he could do in protest, and truth be told, the only thing that had even made him consider it was the momentary image of emerald eyes gazing into his, a gentle touch against his cheek and warm lips pressed against his own. He had not cried when the mark had been cursed into his arm, when the pain overwhelmed him, causing stars of light to pop before his eyes and his head to go light. He had not cried when he had tortured the old man with round after round of Crucio, but he was crying now at the memory of falling asleep beside her. He was crying because he knew that the dream was about to end and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He wanted to get out of the Malfoy’s infuriatingly pristine manor. He wanted to go someplace that felt familiar and right. He wanted to forget. He wanted to be with someone, anyone who might at least partially understand.

He was not sure how he ended up on the front steps of the Black’s brownstone at midnight. He had sent his patronus ahead, and Regulus was already awake and anticipating his knock by the time he arrived. He yanked open the door and pulled him quickly inside. His parents were early to bed, and were deep sleepers. As a result, more had transpired under their roof after hours over the years, than they could ever have imagined. He knew that if he left early enough they would never even know he had been there.

The boy’s grey eyes were wide and worried in the darkness of the entry. He brushed a thick shock of dark hair out of his eyes, and his grip tightened around his hand. “What’s happened? Why are you here? I didn’t think I’d see you until tomorrow at Diagon Alley.” He squinted up at his eyes in the half light, a look of concern clouding his own wide ones. “Are you alright? You…you look sad…”

He felt the boy’s thumb trace lightly, comfortingly over the back of his hand and with a small scowl he pried his hand from Regulus’ and took a step back, staring about the walls at the weird shadows being cast by the light from the street outside. “I…I have something to show you…but not here. Is there somewhere we can go that’s less…conspicuous?”

“Yes. Come to my room,” he offered. You know mother and father won’t even know you’re here…”

“And that bloody house elf of yours?”

“Kreacher?” The boy smiled. “Kreacher won’t say anything – not if I ask him not to.”

“Well, he bloody well had better not…” he mumbled, but followed Regulus quietly up the stairs anyway, his eyes peeled for any sight of the miserable creature. They reached Regulus’ room without event, however, and he finally relaxed a little as the boy closed the door quietly behind them.

“You’d better ward it, Sev. Just to be on the safe side. Father’s been in a foul mood lately. I think it’s something Sirius has done, but I’m not sure what. They don’t tell me anything since he ran away.”

Severus drew his wand and did as he asked and then crawled up on the high four poster bed beside Regulus. “It’s happened,” he stated flatly.

“What’s happened?” the boy across from him breathed. He could see his eyes sparkling with anticipation even in the darkness of the room.

He took a deep breath, and looked around him, probing the shadows as though they might have eyes. Finally he looked back down at the green velvet coverlet beneath them. “This…” he whispered, and very carefully, so as to not brush too harshly against the raw skin beneath, he peeled back the sleeve of his shirt to reveal the dark, scorched mark on his flesh.

He heard Regulus let out a small gasp, and then a small “Ohh…” There was awe and wonder in it, as though it were some sort of breathtaking vista or soul inspiring work of art. He could see the boy’s fingers inching closer and closer, but they stopped before actually touching, hovering so close to the surface of his skin that he could feel the warmth of them there. He remembered Lily, the way she had touched him without actually touching only a few nights prior and he could feel a familiar warmth echo and spread through him as the tears fought their way to the surface again.

“Did it…did it hurt?” His voice was barely a whisper.

“In a way.” He didn’t recognize his own voice. Perhaps it was because he was fighting back the tears, but there was a deepness and maturity to it, that seemed odd and unfamiliar.

He felt Regulus’ eyes on him. “You wanted it, though, didn’t you…? We’ve talked about it for so long…But, I…I thought it wouldn’t be until next year, I thought that….”

“Yes, well apparently the Dark Lord has plans that we know nothing about. The assurance of my loyalty was needed now!” He snapped, much more harshly than he intended. Still he could feel the boy’s eyes burning into him. He refused to meet them. It irritated him. He didn’t even know now why he had come here. What on earth could Regulus do? He was a two years his junior and worse than that he was a bloody Black.

“You’ve changed your mind?”

“Of course not!”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Something…something’s wrong…”

“Nothing’s wrong!”

“Yes…there is…” his tone was infuriatingly soft, begging him to tell, to open.

“I’ve told you…” But he had to swallow back the tears then. Why was it that he always ended up crying in front of Regulus Black? It was a good thing the boy was discrete. The last thing he needed was Sirius catching wind of such weakness, though truth be told he wasn’t sure whether the two brothers talked at all since Sirius had moved out.

“What’s happened, Severus…?”

The tears fell then, and he wiped them away angrily on his exposed forearm without thinking. A single tear rolled over to drip down across the mark on the other side and it burned brutally, making the tears come even more quickly.

“My mum’s died, and…and…”

“When?” There was true shock and compassion in the boy’s voice.

“Last week.” He could feel the tears spilling again, running down his cheeks, dripping down his nose, to hang from the tip before splashing down on his hands.

“I’m sorry. How did it happen?”

“She…she killed herself.”

“Oh….” It was a tiny gasp, short and pained. A hand slid across the coverlet and came to rest on his knee. “Have you been alone, all this time? I would have come, if you’d owled me.”

“I wasn’t alone.”

“No?” He sounded surprised.

“Was with Evans…” he mumbled, as noncommittally as possible. He hoped that the boy might be too uncomfortable to pry further. But it was Regulus Black. He was not usually so easily deterred.

“Lily Evans? I…I didn’t think that the two of you spoke anymore – not since…”

“Didn’t…” He sniffed and wiped his nose ingloriously on his sleeve. “Didn’t know where else to go?”

“Mmm…” he sounded like he was thinking about something. After a moment or two he looked up. “You’ll want to keep that quiet, of course…”

“What…? Oh – yes. Yes, of course…”

“I mean the Dark Lord; he…he wouldn’t take kindly to your being… She is a mudblood after all.”

Regulus looked almost apologetic, but the word had still seemed to reach out and slap him hard with the brutal reality of his situation. He had known when he came here that it would, of necessity have to end now, but he realized suddenly that he had secretly hoped that perhaps Regulus would understand; that he would help him find a way. He inwardly berated himself for his stupidity.

“No – of course. It was nothing. A moment of weakness. It won’t happen again.”

Regulus’ eyes flitted away from his uncomfortably, and he stared down at the coverlet again. “Are you so certain of that…?” There was something strange in the boy’s tone, something almost like fear, and…and something else entirely, though he couldn’t quite place it. “They have their own kind of magic, father says. Like a virus. They get into your blood and infect you, and before you know it, it’s all you think of day and night. They infect you against your will and…”

“Who?”

Regulus’ brow furrowed, as though the answer was obvious. “Mudbloods…” He picked absently at a hangnail on his thumb. “Don’t tell anyone this, but I…I’ve often suspected that father might have had a dalliance in his youth. Mother will sometimes make these obscure comments… I don’t think she has ever forgiven him…”

“Yes, well…” He didn’t really know what to say. Such talk was only making him feel more and more uncomfortable. Why had he come here? He didn’t belong here? He would never belong here? And Regulus was at least partially right. He was infected with an almost insatiable hunger for dark red hair, vibrant green eyes, pale freckled skin. He did crave her company, and if she had been a pure blood… Would he have loved her as much? Could he have loved her as much?

She was like him. He saw a part of himself in her, every time he looked at her, a part of himself that he desperately wanted to forget, and bury. She was a constant reminder. She kept him connected to that side of himself, and he realized for the first time that perhaps it was a part of himself that he needed, a part of himself that he wasn’t fully willing to give up.

A surge of pain shot through his left forearm and he hissed a little in pain. But the time for such epiphanies had passed. He had made his decision, and the mark on his forearm had now sealed his fate. Best to accept it - try to make the best of it.

He snapped out of his reverie to find Regulus’ eyes fixed on him. “Is it paining you? Mother probably has a potion for that downstairs, and I could…”

“I don’t think your mother’s potions would have any effect on this.” He nodded toward his forearm, and then carefully rolled his sleeve back down to cover it. The boy across from him looked almost disappointed.

“Are you tired?” Regulus slid across the bed making room for him. “You can stay if you like.”

He shook his head. “No…no, I don’t think I’d better. I’ve things I have to… Well, it’s been a long night already, hasn’t it, and I have to be up early to go to Diagon Alley tomorrow…”

“Stay here. I’m going tomorrow as well. There’s no reason for you to go all the way back up north tonight when you are coming right back tomorrow morning.”

“No, I…I’ve things I have to gather from home before we leave for school and I…”

“You’ve promised her, haven’t you? You told her you would go with her.” A wave of worry washed over the boy’s features. “Severus…You can’t possibly…Not now…”

“No…no, I know, but I…I at least owe her an explanation. I…I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Regulus nodded in understanding and slid back over and off the end of the bed. “Well, let me show you out.”

“No. I’ve disturbed your sleep enough. I can show myself out.”

“Are you sure?” He sat back down on the edge of the bed.

“Yes.” He smiled weakly. “If I run into Kreacher I’ll just tell him I’m here at your request. That will keep him quiet, won’t it?”

Regulus smiled back, his usual bright and beatific smile. “Oh yes. Kreacher is very good at keeping secrets.”

He nodded. “See you tomorrow, then.”

“Yes. Tomorrow.”