This is for the wonderful Laura, Someone aka Me (for the Gift-Giving Extravaganza), who requested RemusRegulus – I hope you like it, honey! It's my first attempt at slash, so I hope it's not too bad.
This is also for:
The Perks of Being A Wallflower Quote Competition: my quote was "And even if somebody has it much worse, that doesn't really change the fact that you have what you have. Good and bad."
Your Favourite Hogwarts House Boot Camp Challenge – Remus Lupin, Gryffindor - Prompt #22: scar
Pairing Diversity Boot Camp Challenge - RemusRegulus, Prompt #21: casualties (what with people getting metaphorically 'hurt' and everything)
Minor Character Boot Camp Challenge – Regulus Black, Prompt #39: brother
Seven Fics Challenge – Prompt: broken promises
The first four lines are from the song 'Sparks Fly' by Taylor Swift. So, this is also for The Artists Competition – the artist Taylor Swift, the song 'Sparks Fly'
And thank you very much to Paula, who betaed this for me :)
Enjoy! Jasmine x
Crash and Burn
And you stood there in front of me, just close enough to touch.
Close enough to hope you couldn't see what I was thinking of.
They were the same and completely different all at once.
Chalk and cheese.
And opposites attract, don't they?
Well, maybe it's less of just attracting and more crashing into each other at a hundred miles an hour; the sparks fly, the lights dance and the fire is lit.
But you know what happens to fire, don't you?
It crashes and it burns.
This is the story of a boy who made too many mistakes, and a werewolf who was desperate. And they found each other.
Regulus sobbed; great, wracking sobs that tore the air from his lungs. His arm hurt, it burned, but the Dark Lord wasn't calling him. Not this time. Nowadays, it always hurt, for Regulus had made one too many mistakes this time, and he knew it.
All it took was a glance around the bedroom of the vulnerable boy who sat, cross-legged, in the middle of it, to see right through him. He was just like the rest of his family; that was one of the only things that he still prided himself in. But joining the Dark Lord – he'd fucked up there, and learnt all too late that being a … Death Eater was nothing to be proud of.
There was a soft knock at the door. Tap tap. Regulus stopped sniffling at once; Blacks didn't cry. And anyway, somebody might ask why he was in such a state, and he couldn't tell anybody about that.
"Who is it?" he croaked, his voice hollow.
"It's me," replied a voice a lot quieter than Regulus had expected, one that he couldn't quite place his finger on. "May I come in?"
Slowly the door opened, and Remus Lupin shuffled in.
"Why are you here?" Regulus asked.
"Well, I came to rescue my friend from this God-awful hellhole for the summer, and I heard his little brother might be having a bit of a hard time too."
Regulus didn't really know why – after all, he didn't want to tell anybody – but he nodded.
Remus walked forward and joined the dark-haired boy on the bed. And as he sat there, studying him, Regulus noticed how close he was. Close enough to see the way his pale skin was stretched taut across his face, the desperation in his brown eyes, and the hunger for something, anything, to heal a broken heart.
And Regulus saw how Remus was in pain, too.
(See, they had things in common. I told you.)
Regulus looked at that face, into those eyes, and felt the hunger that clung to the werewolf like a disease. And so the fire was lit. And he fell.
They fell together, you could say. And although they didn't feel happy about the fall, it felt so fucking right they didn't care.
Regulus didn't care that Remus would moan 'Sirius …' whenever they kissed, and Remus didn't care that sometimes Regulus' arm would burn and he would be gone for hours on end, doing the Dark Lord's bidding. It was a twisted relationship that neither of them understood, but they didn't fucking care, did they?
They were tangled in a sticky web of their own making, full of promises of love, and they couldn't escape – they were trapped. And the worst part of it all? They didn't realise it. They were too busy not fucking caring, weren't they?
"I love you," Regulus would whisper into the darkness when they were alone.
"You too," Remus would reply.
But it wasn't real love; it was obsession and desperation and two people who didn't understand that they were falling, falling.
Sometimes Remus would scream that he hated himself and other times Regulus would scream that he hated himself. But then they would say that they had each other, and that had to be better than nothing, didn't it?
But the other, even in his pain, would point out that "Even if someone has it much worse, that doesn't change the fact that I have what I have, that I've done what I've done. Good and bad."
And they didn't realise just how fucking right they were.
The fire grew brighter, hotter, but it hurts when you play with fire, doesn't it? And if you get too close, if you're not careful enough, it'll burn you, and then, one day, it'll take you completely.
That's what happened. A boy and a werewolf played with fire, and they got hurt.
Some fires die slowly, quietly, and don't hurt too many people. But others collapse under their own heat, they burn too bright, and they leave scars. And scars hurt.
"I hate you!" they would scream at one another, because the fire was burning them, and it hurt. They ripped through that tangled web of their own making, breaking the promises of love, and they realised that, in all honesty, they had never really loved each other.
They saw it for what it really was: obsession, desperation, and two people who just didn't really understand. Suddenly, they despised themselves, but lay the blame on the other because it was so much easier. And they never forgave each other – the scars were too deep, they hurt too much. They would never heal.
Their love was a fire that burnt too bright. And surely, by now, you know what happens to fire, don't you?
It crashes and it burns.