Chapter Text
I want to share your mouthful
I want to do all the things your lungs do so well
September 29, 1978
Regulus glanced over at Evan, who was leaning against a tree and exhaling a puff of smoke into the air with a practised ease that made Regulus feel a bit weak at the knees. He sighed and took a sip of whatever was in the cup in his hand and made a face. The alcohol it contained was cheap and poorly mixed with some kind of sugary drink that made the whole thing unpalatable.
He took another sip, winced, then chugged the rest of the cup.
Evan leaned over to whisper something in Dennis Flint’s ear and Regulus grit his teeth so hard he was surprised he didn’t chip a tooth. He loathed Evan for making him feel these…feelings. He wished loathing was where it started and ended, but it most certainly was not.
“Hey,” a breathy voice interrupted his thoughts and he felt someone put a hand on his arm.
He turned, surprised, pulling away slightly. Juniper Fawley, a fifth year student, was smiling up at him.
“Hello,” he said, narrowing his eyes and pulling his arm fully out of her grasp.
“Congrats on the match, Black,” she continued, seemingly unperturbed by his body language. “You were brilliant. Amazing catch.”
“Thank you,” he said.
Fawley kept smiling up at him, but she appeared to have run out of things to say and he certainly was not going to keep the conversation going. He looked back over at Evan, who caught his eye this time and winked before taking another drag of the cigarillo in his hand and turning to blow smoke in Flint’s face. Evan laughed as Flint began coughing and kicked at Evan's legs. Fawley followed his gaze.
“He is a bit of an immature jerk, sometimes, isn’t he?”
Regulus raised his eyebrows and gave Fawley an icy stare. “I am sure I do not know what you mean.”
“Rosier," Fawley said, infuriatingly immune to the clear indications Regulus was sending that he had absolutely no interest in her ridiculous opinions. "I know he’s your mate and all, but he can be quite annoying.”
“Maybe so, but you are worse,” Regulus growled. He walked away, leaving Fawley looking as though she had just been slapped in the face. He probably should not have said that to her, but he was feeling a bit buzzed from the repulsive concoction he had downed and she was annoying. Someone needed to let her know.
Almost everyone in the school annoyed him now. Hope Selwyn and Mitzy Travers graduating last year had been a blow to more than just his quidditch team (which was still winning, but only just, without them). Hogwarts was now also short two of the three people whose presence Regulus found vaguely tolerable. He was left with no one but Evan, who appeared determined to torment Regulus their entire last year in school for wholly unjust reasons, in Regulus' opinion.
Regulus sighed. He looked around the party for anyone he might be able to have a conversation with without having to obliviate himself afterwards. Spotting Lena, Evan's younger sister, he walked up to her and grabbed the flask she was holding loosely at her side out of her hand, pouring himself another drink.
Lena scowled at him. “What has crawled up your arse, Black?” she asked.
He rolled his eyes at her. Not your brother. Not lately anyhow, he thought bitterly. He could not say that to her, of course. He could not talk about the neglect and loneliness he felt being iced out by Evan to anyone at all and he thought that he might burst from the tension of it.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he said instead. It was childish, but he did not have the mental faculties to provide a better response.
“Not particularly,” Lena said, shrugging.
“This stuff is disgusting,” Regulus said, taking another sip of the drink that tasted like a poorly brewed pepper-up potion and left him with the same burning sensation.
“No one’s forcing you to drink it, Black.”
“Mm,” Regulus acknowledged, downing the rest of the cup quickly. He grimaced. “Lack of better alternatives. What is in it?”
“Firewhiskey and Butterbeer,” Lena said. She laughed at the horrified expression on Regulus’ face. “All my girlfriends enjoy it. I brought it for them. Not you.”
“This is my party,” Regulus said, gesturing at their surroundings. “My team. My victory. My party. My drinks.”
It was Lena’s turn to roll her eyes, and she did so dramatically. “I don’t think that’s how that works, Black.”
Regulus smirked. “That is almost word for word what you said to me when you took the sweets out of my hands at your sixth birthday party.”
“I was six!”
“It is also the logic you used when you tried to get Connor McElroy to snog you at your birthday last year.”
Lena shrugged and took a sip from her flask. “Should have worked. Tosser.”
“Me or McElroy?”
“Both of you.” Lena took another sip and eyed Regulus. “Unless…”
“Unless what?”
Lena grinned and leaned over to him. “Unless you fancy snogging me.”
Regulus instinctively backed up a step, his eyebrows raised so high they were in danger of disappearing. The fucking Rosiers. Could they not leave him alone? “I'm sorry? You are, what, twelve?”
“Fourteen!” Lena objected. “And I'll be fifteen at my birthday party this year. So…”
Regulus shook his head. "Absolutely not.”
“Hmmph.” Lena frowned. “Enjoy your party then. Tosser.”
She turned on her heel and left, walking over to join the other fourth year girls. Regulus sighed and looked around to find that Evan had left his post at the tree with Flint.
“What did my sister want?” Evan asked as he walked up behind Regulus.
Regulus grinned. "She asked if I wanted to snog her.”
Evan laughed so hard he nearly choked. “She’s mental.”
“I told her I would, but she would have to wait until her fifteenth birthday party.”
That wiped the smile off Evan’s face immediately. “You’re joking. You didn’t tell her that, did you? Because she will absolutely lose her mind if you told her that and you don’t follow through, and I will not stand in her way when she tries to exact her revenge.”
“Who says I am not going to follow through? I am a man of my word.”
Evan narrowed his eyes. “On Salazar Slytherin’s grave, I will murder you, Regulus Black. You touch my sister and I will kill you.”
Regulus laughed, cold and mirthless. “Maybe I really will snog her then, just so you put me out of my misery.”
“I doubt it would be worth the trouble,” Evan growled. “She’s fourteen and already a bloody tart.”
“That means she's probably a decent kisser then, right? If she has had practice…”
“Will you stop talking about snogging my sister for Merlin's sake? I mean really,” Evan said, his tone shifting as he leaned forward to whisper in Regulus’ ear. “Is that the image you want in my mind when I look at you, Reg?”
“Would it matter?” Regulus asked in a low voice. “You hardly look at me at all these days.”
“It would matter,” Evan said sharply. “And anyway, whose fault is that?”
Yours, it’s yours, I told you this would not work out the way you imagined but you would not fucking listen and now you are blaming me when I did not want any of this.
Regulus sighed and said nothing. There was nothing that he could say that he had not already tried, in one way or another, to articulate to Evan over the course of their summer holiday. It had been the worst summer that Regulus had ever experienced, including the summer that Sirius left, but Evan was entirely unsympathetic. Regulus frowned and stood there in silence, surveying the party and wishing that he was back in his dorm, curled up in bed. Or, better yet, enjoying a bath in the prefect’s bathroom. Alone.
As if Evan could read his mind and, in typical Evan fashion, ignore the thoughts that did not align with his desires, Evan said, “Want to get out of here? Go to the prefect’s bathroom, perhaps? Since you’re so keen on snogging…”
Regulus nodded. “Sure.”
Regulus would have threatened to snog Lena ages ago if he had known that was all it would take to get Evan to touch him again. The minute the bathroom door was closed and locked, Evan practically pounced on Regulus, gripping his face and kissing him forcefully. “Fuck,” Regulus breathed out. “Evan.”
Evan’s hands wandered up and down Regulus’ body, pulling at his robes. Regulus hurried to unfasten and pull them off, his mouth still glued to Evan’s. The feeling of Evan’s hands on his bare skin was soothing for only a moment, before Evan started grabbing and scratching and biting.
Regulus was panting, and his hands shook as he tugged at the fastenings on Evan’s robes. Evan shoved his hands away, letting out a low growl. He ran his fingers across the waistband of Regulus’ pants and Regulus swallowed.
“I want you naked,” Evan said, his voice deep and commanding. “And on your knees.”
Automatically, before his conscious mind had any opportunity to process what Evan had said, Regulus began to pull off his pants and get down on his knees. It was only when he was down on the ground, with his knees rubbing uncomfortably against the cold tile on the floor, that his thoughts began to catch up to him.
His desperation to please and instinctual need to follow orders that were delivered in the right tone from the right people, did not sit well with Regulus. He could not help himself, though, and he hated that he could not help himself. He hated that he was looking up at Evan now, mouth half open and eyes wide, eagerly waiting for his next direction. He hated Evan for taking advantage of it. He hated himself for being so weak. He hated everything.
Evan leaned down slightly, cupping Regulus’ face in one hand. “So pretty,” he murmured, licking his lips as he examined Regulus. “Why can’t you always be like this? My Regulus.”
Regulus dropped his eyes to the ground. Evan was one of a handful of people who wanted Regulus to belong to them. To comply, to follow their orders, to think and act and be the version of Regulus that pleased them the most. But they all had different versions of Regulus that they liked best and it always ended with Regulus being pulled in five different directions at once, trying to please everyone and somehow managing to please no one.
Evan, of course, liked Regulus best when he was naked, vulnerable, and on his knees in front of Evan; exposed and exploitable. Evan demanded devotion of Regulus in increasingly perverse ways and almost never returned in kind. Regulus felt at times that Evan wanted him as nothing more than a plaything, a doll to manipulate and manhandle. It was almost unbearable.
Almost.
Evan started undressing, slowly and methodically, his eyes fixed on Regulus beneath him.
“I try,” Regulus murmured softly, raising his gaze to meet Evan’s and biting down on his lower lip.
Evan didn’t say anything in response. He just regarded Regulus with that cold, hard stare of his for a moment, before grabbing a fistful of hair at the back of Regulus’ head. Regulus licked his lips and opened his mouth expectantly and his mind went blissfully blank.
At least with Evan, there was some pleasure mixed in with the pain. Evan could always calm the storm that raged within Regulus on a near constant basis, any time he wanted to; it was just a matter of making sure that he wanted to.
Regulus sat in the tub in the bathroom long after Evan had left, wallowing in the sensation of dread that filled him the minute Evan had walked out the door. He dipped his head beneath the surface of the water and sat at the bottom of the tub. He could feel his heartbeat, thrumming in his ears, start to slow. It was almost soothing down here, under the water.
A lifetime of panic induced hyperventilation had made Regulus rather skilled at holding his breath for prolonged periods of time. If he wasn’t breathing at all then he couldn’t be hyperventilating. And if he wasn’t hyperventilating then people were less likely to stare at him. He could panic privately, quietly, and without interruption that way.
He held his breath now, at the bottom of the tub, and tried not to think of the future. He had thought he was doing the right thing, joining the Death Eaters. He certainly wasn’t going to let Evan join alone, with no one to look after him or temper his worst impulses. Regulus knew that he wouldn't be able to bear losing Evan to the war, especially if he had opted to sit on the sidelines, but it turned out that he might be losing Evan after all for entirely different reasons. And he might be losing himself as well.
Regulus rose back up to the surface, inhaling deeply. He pushed his wet hair out of his face and sighed. His skin was starting to prune from being in the water for so long, but he was reluctant to leave and face the chilly air outside the warm bathwater. That, and he would gladly stay here all night to avoid having to go back to his dorm mates; back to Evan, who held him at an arm’s length now, when they were once inseparable.
Regulus slammed both his fists down into the water, in a sudden burst of frustration, splashing it over the edges of the tub. Rage over his circumstance swelled within him. Following Lord Voldemort was ugly and dangerous, and it made Regulus feel disgusted with himself. It seemed to come so easily to Evan, but the skillset required evaded Regulus. The whole affair was turning out far worse than Regulus had imagined that it would, and Regulus was used to imagining the most horrific scenarios possible. But perhaps Evan was right, perhaps if he just committed himself to it, it would get easier. Merlin, he hoped it would get easier.
Being bad at this, on top of everything else—it was not an option.
October 2, 1978
Evan’s hot breath lingered on Regulus’ neck as he left wet kisses there, then nibbled on the shell of Regulus’ ear. Regulus let out a breathy moan. “Evan. Fuck. Please. Yes.”
Evan growled, hands gripped on Regulus’ hips. “So gorgeous,” he muttered into the crook of Regulus’ neck. “Such a pretty boy.”
Regulus whimpered, grabbing one of Evan’s hands and pulling it down. “Touch me,” he gasped out. “Please. Need you, Evan, please.”
Evan chuckled. “I adore you,” he said, but his voice sounded strange. Distorted. “No one will ever love you like I love you.”
“I know,” Regulus whispered.
Evan laughed again, cold and dark. A chill ran up Regulus’ spine. That was not Evan’s laugh. He turned his head to look at Evan and—
Regulus sat bolt upright in bed, a startled cry escaping his mouth. It was a dream. Just a dream. A fucked up dream, but nothing more. It didn’t mean anything. Regulus shivered and ran his hand over his face, before summoning a glass of water and drinking greedily.
As he put the water down, the large mark on his forearm caught his eye. It used to be such a thrill, seeing the dark mark there and knowing the power it held and the terror it induced. Now, the mark aroused terror in Regulus and everything exciting about it had soured.
Well. Maybe not everything exciting, if his dream was any indication. Regulus shuddered, trying to will the image of turning around to see Lord Voldemort out of his head. Just what he needed, more thoughts he was desperate to hide from the Dark Lord.
Fuck. He needed a Pensieve. And a Sleeping Draught. Maybe an entirely new brain.
It was early in the morning, but he knew there was no sense in trying to go back to sleep now. The thought of the Dark Lord’s face haunting his dreams further was enough to put him off the idea entirely. He slid out of his bed and slid his feet into his slippers, then padded down the stairs of the dorm into the common room.
Mitzy had usually been up at this hour, revising, or staring at her parchment while her mind wandered into a million waking nightmares. She would twist the most appalling tales in the twilight hours of the morning with a smile on her face and then go back to revising. She’d graduated at the end of last term with eight well-deserved N.E.W.T.'s and an offer to join the Chudley Cannons, and Regulus had not spoken to her since. She and her mother had fled the country, uninterested in choosing sides in the building war nor getting caught in the crossfire.
The common room was empty now. Regulus sighed and collapsed into a chair by the fire. It was not even December and already he felt thoroughly finished with this school year. The prospect of what came after graduation, however, loomed ominously. He wanted to be free of this purgatory, but not if it meant tumbling into the depths of hell.
“Black!” an alarmingly chirpy voice crooned as a set of feet pattered down the stairs to the boys’ dormitory. “Trouble sleeping?”
Regulus groaned audibly, not bothering to hide his irritation from his least favourite dorm mate. “What do you want, Saunders?”
Miles Saunders sat himself down in the seat next to Regulus, his ever-present grin adorning his cherub-like features. He brushed a strand of his messy hair out of his eyes and wrinkled his nose. “Tsch, hostile,” he commented mildly. “You and Rosier have been fighting again, haven’t you?”
“I fail to see how that is any of your business,” Regulus replied tersely, staring into the fireplace.
“I do live with you both,” Miles replied. “You kind of make it my business with all your glaring and grumbling and sulking. That negative energy is really toxic, you know?”
Regulus clenched his jaw. There were few people who grated his nerves like Miles, the human form of the most sickeningly sweet pudding: ostensibly appealing, but ultimately substance-less and disgusting. “I am certain you will live.”
Miles chuckled. “Probably. I do hope you kiss and make up soon, though. I’m rooting for you two.”
This comment prompted Regulus to turn to face Miles, searching his face for any indication that Miles understood the weight and impact of his words. Regulus had always felt on edge with Miles, who sometimes seemed to know that Regulus and Evan’s relationship went beyond a typical friendship. Regulus could never tell if Miles was subtly hinting at this knowledge, though, or if he was simply paranoid.
“Excellent,” Regulus said sourly. “I was really hoping to have a cheerleader. Thank you for making my dreams come true.”
Miles threw back his head and laughed. “Anything for you, Reggie.”
Regulus scowled. He opened his mouth to scold Miles for using such a juvenile nickname for him when he heard someone else coming down the stairs. As ridiculous as it seemed, Regulus was almost always able to tell when Evan was nearby. He recognized the sound of Evan’s footfalls, the rhythm of his heartbeat. He turned his head to confirm, but he knew.
“Come on, Regulus,” Evan said, shooting Miles a disdainful look. “Let’s get breakfast. I’m starving.”
“It’s too early,” Miles objected.
Evan fixed Miles with an icy stare. “Maybe for you. Not for us.”
Regulus stood up and followed Evan, without giving Miles a second glance. He stepped out of the common room and muttered, “Thank you. I might have murdered him if you had not showed up.”
Evan smirked. “Wish I hadn’t shown up then. Stupid twat.”
“Well, you can kill him if you like.”
Evan’s expression turned sour immediately. “Always pawning your dirty work off on me.”
“No, that is not what I—”
Evan held up his hand. “Forget it.”
Regulus sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. They stopped in front of the fruit bowl painting that led to the kitchens and Regulus reached out to tickle the pear. Evan grinned. He reached out and tickled Regulus under his ribs.
“Will you — fuck, stop that!”
Evan shoved Regulus against the wall as the portrait swung open. “Make me.”
“Evan,” Regulus whispered admonishingly. “We are in the middle of the hall.”
Regulus pushed Evan off of him and smoothed out his robes, looking around self-consciously. Evan scowled. “You’re such a poor sport.”
Regulus sighed and closed his eyes. “Let’s just eat, alright? I thought you were starving."
Evan grinned. "Maybe food isn't what I'm hungry for."
"Then why did we come to the kitchens?"
"Well, I will be hungry for food afterwards, obviously. Might as well stock up."
Regulus rolled his eyes and walked in the kitchen. After the dream he had this morning, he wasn't sure he would be able to stomach shagging Evan, but he did not think he'd be able to deny Evan either. He was finally giving Regulus attention again and Regulus did not want to waste it.
"You're ridiculous," he murmured. "I want to at least have tea first."