#regideon

[camelliacats]

A Pain That I’m Used To

Some pre-Regideon to soothe the soul~

Fic: "A Pain That I'm Used To" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: pre-Regulus Arcturus Black/Gideon Prewett

Rating: K+

Words: ~1,190

Additional info: romance, slash, light angst, fluff, Maydayverse, Marauder era, 2nd person POV

Summary: Regulus is starting to get used to Gideon's presence in his life. But a simple question from his lion companion throws him off-balance, more than he expected.

      The first time you hung out together on the Quidditch pitch, it was a bit of a laugh. But now Gideon's gotten into the habit, joining you nearly every day as November wears on, so you're growing accustomed to having him at your side whenever you sneak in extra practice or just a flight for the hell of it, though you wonder if flying's even really Gideon's thing, clumsy bloke he is.

      As if he hears your thoughts (because, no, you didn't speak them aloud, did you?), he glances down and to the left, catching your eye and imparting a bemused, little smile.

      Your mind empties of plans for Slytherin's victory at the next match, seeing that smile. Your grip around your broom's handle tightens and you blurt, "Fancy another lap, then?"

      Gideon laughs. "Regulus, you've been at it nearly all afternoon! And I'd hardly call my hovering above the grass a 'lap.'" His blue eyes crinkle when he chuckles. "Though you're a surprisingly patient instructor, thank you."

      You nod, dumbly, and mount your broom again. You could be using your study block more wisely, but the team likes to fit in practice on the weekend when not interrupting class, so during study or free time on the weekends are the only chances when you get to spend your time as you see fit, with whom you see fit.

      Does Gideon think about these same things? You wonder, since he lightly jogs beside your broom, here and not inside the castle, with his twin or other mates, spending his own study block more wisely.

      You wonder a lot about Gideon Prewett, actually, though the more time you spend with the older Gryffindor only supplies you with more questions than answers.

      "Either you're taking it easy on me," Gideon quips with a pout at your lazy speed, "or you're winding down before your next—"

      His words are swallowed up, however, by the deafening B-TOOM! behind him, beyond the pitch and up past the Stone Circle. Hell, if that didn't come from the castle itself—

      Confirming the inevitable, McGonagall's bellow ricochets off the stone in the outside corridors. "POTTER! BLACK! GET BACK HERE THIS INSTANT!!"

      You can't help craning your neck to peek over Gideon's shoulder, though all you spy is smoke. You furrow your brow and frown.

      Gideon frowns, too, but doesn't bother catching a look at your brother's destruction. "I've…never heard McGonagall that irate," he remarks of his Head of House.

      Your shoulders sag. The commotion up at the castle turns into a certified din, but you grit your teeth and focus on ignoring it. You turn back around and resume your flight, picking up speed as you grumble, "Yes, well, so it was once at home and so it still is at school."

      Gideon jogs harder at your side, huffing. He shakes his head. "What—What d'you mean by that?"

      More than his exertion, his question makes you slow. You search for the right words—again, tuning out the faint promises of detention and the haphazardly given apologies that you presume follow in the distant background—but then you lick your lips. Your search isn't long, because your answer comes quite easily. "Sirius has always been the center of attention, because he's such a troublemaker," you state.

      Gideon's eyes are on you, but he doesn't touch that one. How can he? It's a fact.

      But you, you drop your eyes to the woodgrain of your broom handle and purse your lips. "When you're young, they call you a 'handful.' The older you get, you turn into a 'pain in the arse' until, at some point I presume, you're the scum of the earth…"

      And there you freeze, because, with those words loosed from your lips and free from the confines of your private thoughts, you realize that you've shared too much of your inner musings with someone. Even if it is Gideon. Even if Gideon is the one person who's never judged you.

      (Yet, you fear.)

      Something in your chest sinks, sinks low, sinks deep into your stomach when Gideon frowns at you in the ensuing silence. But…he purses his lips and nods.

      He—He's not going to chastise you for your harsh words or your prediction of your brother's future?

      "It's hard, yeah."

      "Sorry?" Gideon's forever keeping you on your toes with his surprisingly friendly personality, but still you can't believe your ears.

      Yet Gideon nods a second time. "Having siblings that require attention. Perhaps all the attention." Then he offers that sweet smile of his in commiseration, small, soft, and empathetic.

      That smile— His words— It's all enough to take your mind off of what prompted the topic to start. Yet, more than that, something new catches your attention:

      Despite all this talk of Sirius, Gideon's eyes have never wandered off in the direction of the clamor, not once. They have remained only on you.

      …huh.

      Gideon shrugs. "I get it, I think, a little." He ticks fingers off his left hand with his right. "Molly's the eldest, sure, but she's the only witch of us three. And Fabian's my twin, of course, but he goes looking for 'fun' rather than letting it happen a little more organically." The last part he says with a wink, because Gideon's no stranger to mischief, but he's the type who prefers the latter, you're quickly working out these days.

      But you nod. And, still unsure what to do with Gideon's attention, you find the last dregs of energy in your limbs to usher your broom along at a snail's pace, assuring yourself it must be your imagination that Gideon walks half a step closer beside you now. You pry one of your hands free from your broom to brush back some of the black curls that fall into your eyes. "So…you know what it's like then, being a ghost when your siblings are in the room." It can't harm you any worse to sum things up, can it? Especially since Gideon's received this begrudging part of you so well this afternoon…

      "I do. But, Regulus, you're not a ghost to me."

      You freeze for the second time that day, but you're not scared this time, and neither instance has anything to do with November's countless chilly, overcast days this season.

      No, it has everything to do with the wizard standing beside you, with flaming hair you could pick out of a crowd and freckles that pop on this cloudy day. And those eyes—those eyes a burning, bright, deep blue that make your heart squeeze and gently guide your feet to the ground.

      "…t-thank you," you fumble before suggesting in the same breath you two ought to wend your way back to the castle before your next classes begin.

      Gideon's familiar smile is friendly as always but perhaps a tad gentler this time. His eyes slide to your feet and his walking side by side back up the hillside, as though he reckons by now you're not used to this kind of attention.

      Which…you're not. But, from Gideon, you suppose you could grow accustomed to that, too.

Done for the If You Dare Challenge (for prompt #95: lonesome) in the HPFC forum on FFN. Not a whole lot to say about this pre-Regideon piece except sibling relationships are complicated. Now, as to fitting this into the Maydayverse, slotting this into their early days of getting to know each other/gaining proximity during "we will be the last ones standing" just made a lot of sense once I got my basic premise down. Regideon is too sweet!! ;w; As for the angst…the Black brothers and Depeche Mode do that to me, *lol*; the title comes from the Depeche Mode song of the same name, btw. (Also I am not surprised the first thing I write after "closed minds, open hearts" was Regideon, *LOL*.)

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

[itsybitsybiderman]

there was no need to call me out like this, but I felt this down to my BONES

me coming up with a new fic idea

me realising that now i actually have to write it

[itsybitsybiderman]

ah fuck. ima have to write a whole regideon thing now, i made myself sad with the angst

[ao3feed-snape]

howling at the moon

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/38I2AEI

by Miraphina Atherton (mew_tsubaki)

Sirius was born evil, so Regulus wouldn't have to be. Remus thinks there's more to it, though.

Words: 15983, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Regulus Black, Walburga Black, Orion Black, James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, Severus Snape

Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Sirius Black & Regulus Black

Additional Tags: Family, Angst, Dark Magic, Marauders, Alternate Universe, Slytherin Sirius Black, Gryffindor Regulus Black, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Non-Graphic Violence, cameos/mentions of others, bkgd Regideon & Jily to soothe the soul

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/38I2AEI

[camelliacats]

try again tomorrow

Regideon can't leave me alone, so I won't leave them alone. :')

Fic: "try again tomorrow" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: established!Gideon Prewett/Regulus Arcturus Black

Rating: K+

Words: ~2,060

Additional info: romance, slash, angst, Maydayverse, Marauder era, 3rd person POV

Summary: They've spent the entire summer making memories to last them a lifetime, and Gideon wants to capture every moment. Even their goodbye.

      They've spent the entire summer enjoying themselves the way a pair of young lovers should: indoors without obligations or pressing items closing in on them, outdoors whenever Regulus is up to it, mingling here and there with Gideon's family, keeping to themselves…content with the sole company of new kitten Basil, one of Gideon's birthday presents, from Regulus.

      And Gideon has spent most of this summer, his first out of Hogwarts, in his first flat of his own, capturing all these memories with another of his birthday presents, the Muggle camera Molly and Arthur gifted him weeks ago.

      He knows it's not Regulus' favorite thing. Regulus tried to hide his frowns initially, but Gideon has several of his boyfriend's pale pouts on film to prove just how camera-shy he is. And, yet, Regulus never stops Gideon from taking as many photos as he wants.

      It's almost as if he knows, without either of them speaking it aloud, that Gideon's trying to create something tangible of their time together, because it could all feel like a dream the moment Regulus sets foot outside Gideon's door to return to Twelve Grimmauld Place before the month's end.

      But the camera's not just for himself, Gideon thinks as August slowly winds down and Regulus' departure date looms over them. And he doesn't mean the way the item can be customized with a vanity face plate (silver, black, brown—those are the choices) or that it comes with a neck strap Gideon never attaches.

      No, it's because the camera pops out photos instantly, images developing right before their very eyes. "Like Muggle magic," he said to Regulus when he first tried out the thing and showed his dark-haired better half his results.

      Instant memories, for Gideon to keep or to share. Perhaps, if he insists, Regulus will take a part of this summer with him.

      (But Gideon hasn't brought that up yet and still doesn't know when the best time is—Regulus is so fragile when it comes to discussing home and what parts of himself he hides there.)

      Gideon sifts through photos, wondering which ones will mean the most, which ones he can part with, which ones Regulus might take, in the remaining days leading up to Regulus' birthday.

      Well, he's got to have some shots of Bill and Charlie. Gideon's nephews spent just enough time over here with the couple to adopt Regulus as another family member, nearly. …Gideon hasn't come up with an explanation yet for the boys about Regulus' impending absence. (He makes a mental note to come up with something and tucks it away to dwell on later.)

      And, clearly, Regulus will need pictures of Basil and of Gideon and of him with Gideon and Basil. The places they went to, as well—a shot of Gideon's window to remember his flat by, a skyscape from that day at the beach with his nephews, a narrow shot up the lane on which Gideon lives. Things that redefine "home" for Regulus and remind him he's got a place where he's welcome.

      …most importantly of all, Gideon parts with one of his favorite stills of a rare, smiling Regulus Arcturus Black. Gideon recalls the afternoon he took it—catching Regulus off-guard while the other wizard let his mind wander while he played with Basil in the living room—but more importantly he knows why he selects it for Regulus' gift parcel.

      Black curls with a healthy sheen and bounce, surrounding a pale face tinged with color along the cheekbones.

      Steely eyes softened to stormy gray, showing how relaxed Regulus was, here, with Gideon and Basil.

      But that handsome, almost imperceptible smile…an ever so subtle curl of Regulus' thin lips upward.

      All of it paints a reminder that a happy Regulus is not a fantasy. Regulus can have happiness. Regulus has happiness.

      If only he were allowed to keep it.

      But Gideon stops that train of thought there and gathers up his photo collection, because he can hear the shower turn off in the bathroom, and it won't be long before Regulus comes looking and finds Gideon prepping for a day neither of them want to think about very much. And he does just that, tucking everything into a box except for his camera as Regulus rounds the open door and cocks his head at the ginger wizard.

      Gideon offers Regulus a smile, small and quick. "My turn, then?"

      Regulus purses his lips and stares up at him when Gideon draws near, taking the towel from Regulus' hand to finish patting the moisture from his ringlets. "…I s'pose so."

      Gideon knows that tone of voice. He cups Regulus' face in his hands. "I'll be quick. We'll turn in shortly, luv."

      "Gid—" Regulus catches Gideon's wrist. That gray gaze locks on to Gideon's blue eyes. "It's…another night gone," he feebly points out, his voice a weak mumble in the quiet. Elsewhere in the flat, Basil can be heard pouncing on something.

      But Gideon won't let Regulus dwell on those thoughts. "It's another summer night with you, Reg," he corrects, and he presses a soft kiss to Regulus' temple before passing him by.

      What Regulus says doesn't leave his mind, but that doesn't mean Gideon can't sleep. …not that he sleeps well, with two days left before Regulus departs, but. Still.

      He gets what sleep he can, because one never knows in these uncertain times. Yes, they've spent nearly the whole summer unburdened, but it doesn't mean that reality went on pause for them to enjoy this bliss. And Gideon wants to be as well-rested as can be, for whatever may come his way.

      Thankfully, each morning he still wakes with Regulus in his arms, once even with his face hidden in Gideon's chest. It's one of the few things that brings Gideon comfort as summer ends, knowing that Regulus will keep his unsaid promise with Gideon, that he won't flee early and rob Gideon of any seconds the two can share.

      But, close as they are, as good as the summer's been, the day before things end, Regulus' mood shifts. And it all starts when Gideon tries to bring up celebratory plans.

      "Tomorrow is—"

      "The day I have to leave," Regulus finishes.

      Gideon bites back his sigh. "Well, I was going to say your birthday."

      Regulus frowns and doesn't comment. In lieu of words, he shrugs. That's his go-to move for Gideon to drop the conversation.

      But there's not much time left, and Gideon knows Regulus doesn't see any hope for himself. And yet Gideon still has him talking. There's always hope, so long as they're talking. So Gideon says the first words that come to mind: "Let's go to the States…or Canada…somewhere far away."

      He doesn't need to turn to catch out of the corner of his eye the way Regulus' frown melts, replaced by amused confusion…no, curiosity. "And why should we go there?" There's an unfortunate playful lilt to his tone, however, suggesting he doesn't believe Gideon's serious in the least bit.

      "You wouldn't have to go back to your house that way." Gideon turns then, facing him, all but pouting, wishing Regulus would seek help. From Gideon. From Sirius. From Dumbledore. Hell, from the Ministry. Anything's better than sitting back and accepting what his parents have in store for him as his "fate."

      Regulus grimaces and settles Gideon with a tiny glare, unhappy to have this topic brought up right now. That expression sets the stage for a day filled with squabbling and reluctant truces oft brokered by their demanding kitten daughter.

      Any sort of elaborate birthday plans go to the wayside at Regulus' insistence—"Why should I have to share you with the world today? Let's just stay home, Gid," he says with eyes so irresistible that Gideon finds himself parched—and somehow the couple makes an all right day of it inside once more. Regulus yet again doesn't pipe up about the camera joining them for the entire day, although the idea of baking a cake was rather terrible, especially when one adds magic and doesn't know Molly's tricks in the kitchen. They end up a literal mess and have a spot of leftovers for supper and gorge themselves on ice-cream for dessert instead, a treat they keep away from Basil as though they're playing Quidditch…

      …somehow, it's the birthday celebration both of them needed, or could handle, or desired. Perhaps all three, Gideon muses, recounting the smiles and curses Regulus shared today.

      He catches Regulus' eye from across the room.

      Regulus pauses in stroking Basil's cinnamon-colored fur. But he doesn't wear a smile this time. No, this time he bites his lower lip, and then he looks away.

      Gideon knows the feeling. He can't bring himself to smile anymore today either. But that doesn't mean he doesn't want to capture this moment, as much as it hurts.

      So he rights his camera in his lap while Regulus' attention is diverted, and he angles the viewfinder at his lover's regal profile, and he clicks the shutter—

      —but the camera makes no sound. What's more, it doesn't spit anything out.

      Huh.

      Gideon furrows his brow and glances down at the Muggle contraption. That is…odd. He's used it consistently for weeks on end, on a nearly daily basis, and it's never broken once. And it's not as though he or Regulus would've had anything to do with it; only untrained children possess magic that makes things go haywire, and Gideon's wand is in the other room while Regulus' is on the counter, out of Basil's reach while she snoozes beside him on the couch, so their magic's not to blame.

      Ah, well, he supposes. It's nothing a quick spell won't fix, though Gideon's loath to let Regulus know the recent bane of his existence is in need of repair, so Gideon gets up from the armchair and crosses what feels like too large a distance between them to plant a kiss on Regulus' crown. "I need to check on something, so you can have the first shower," he says.

      At least he can take it as a good sign that Regulus touches his wrist before they part.

      There, lying in the middle of the bed, atop the covers, sits his wand, and Gideon grabs the thing and aims at the camera, casting a nonverbal "Reparo!" He holds it up to the bedroom window and clicks.

      Again, nothing.

      Gideon frowns. A memory tickles the back of his brain, that the spell works best when one knows what it is they're attempting to fix. And, short of dismantling his whole gift, Gideon hasn't the foggiest where to begin…

      He tries again. Still nothing. His old school lesson taunts him.

      Gideon turns around in his room, wondering where he put the box with the camera manual… Perhaps then he'll stand a chance of fixing this… But, no, he hurried to move in right after graduation, so that Regulus to come over as soon as possible…so his closet's a pigsty…even if he uses a Summoning Charm for the box, he's bound to cause a clamor of tumbling junk that will draw Regulus' attention and just—

      Gideon huffs in frustration and tosses the broken camera on the bed. He hopes the photos he's collected, the ones he's selected, are enough, because he's too exhausted to solve this problem right now.

      But, while he's mildly concerned with his gift for Regulus being enough tomorrow, Gideon tries not to let his mind linger on the broken camera, how it breaks now of all times. He can't help but think of it as an ill omen…

      "No," Gideon whispers to himself with a shake of his head. No, he isn't going to think that way, isn't going to think of those things. He'll fix his beloved camera, for certain. "I'll just try again tomorrow," he promises himself.

      And yet his promise sounds hollow even to his own ears, knowing he'll have to part with Regulus then, because he doesn't want to believe it's his last chance to capture memories with his Regulus. The future isn't set in stone or even printed for permanence like Gideon's beloved photo collection.

      So he refuses to believe this…tomorrow…will be the last he'll see of his love.

      (Even though he's spent the whole summer preparing for that eventuality.)

Done for the 5, 10, 20, 50, 70, 100 Fandoms Challenge as well as the If You Dare Challenge (for prompt #1000: faulty camera) in the HPFC forum on FFN. I got this idea when I saw the IYD prompt, and all I could think about was Gideon's camera. In "we will be the last ones standing," on the day Regulus actually leaves, *minor spoiler alert* there's actually no mention of the camera at all, the way there had been the day/night before. So I got to thinking…and this fic is the angsty result. :') Foreboding things are fun and yet heart-wrenching to write, tho…! Dx Special note: At the start of the second scene/section, a few lines of dialogue come from my twin, Mor's, fic verbatim; also, Basil is her OC (I rly can't think of Regideon without their kitten daughter anymore :'3). I highly rec giving her fic a read if you haven't already, esp if you need more Regideon in your life! :3

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

[camelliacats]

Where Logic Cannot Intervene

Another oneshot, done for a forum exchange.

Fic: "Where Logic Cannot Intervene" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: Regulus Arcturus Black/Gideon Prewett, Kreacher, Fabian Prewett, & Voldemort, with cameos from others

Rating: M

Words: ~10,970

Additional info: romance, slash, angst, violence, AU fic, sequential, Marauder era, 3rd person POV

Summary: Regulus wanted out, and Gideon was the light to lead him there.

      Regulus Black coughed in the midst of the smoke-filled room. He half mused that he had asthma. If that were true, then he had even less business being in this room, with these people.

      His eyes sidled around the room, taking in the familiar faces. Lucius Malfoy looked out of place here, maybe two decades removed from the times with how he gripped the bejeweled top of his walking stick. Rodolphus Lestrange was better, though his love of all-black clothes only made him that much more conspicuous a person. Rodolphus' brother, Rabastan, was one of the younger ones, a few years older than Regulus, and he had a fag hanging out of the side of his mouth as several of the others did. He didn't look particularly interested in being present. The same could be said of Rosier, Avery, Rowle—and their drugs of choice were all something much more potent, judging by the snorts Rowle made in a back corner of the room and by the white tablet Regulus saw change hands from Avery to Rosier.

      Regulus, on the other hand, closed his eyes. The temptation was there, but he had yet to partake. No. Drugs were a last resort.

      The door to the room opened, and in walked a man in his late fifties, though, looking at him, one couldn't tell that. He looked barely older than Lucius and Rodolphus. That had always interested Regulus. It were as though the man possessed the Elixir of Life…as if such a thing existed.

      "Gentleman," the man greeted them. (If what he did could be called a greeting. "Greeting" had such a positive connotation and therefore didn't fit with the man's image.)

      "Lord Riddle," the gathered mass responded.

      Yes. Tom Riddle. In certain circles, he was just another well-off, old-family patriarch, though that was more because he was the last of the Riddles. But, to England these past several years, he was the fearsome visage publicly known as "Voldemort." Regulus thought nothing of the name—it was just a tactic meant to scare people…though he'd be lying if he said it never scared him when he saw Riddle in action.

      "Lord Riddle," Lucius began. "I wanted to let you know that the shipment arrived safely. Distribution begins later this week."

      Riddle nodded. "Good." He shrugged out of his jacket and passed it to his companion, a woman Regulus had only ever known by the name "Nagini." He didn't know if that was her first name or last name, but she was almost always there if Riddle was. Aside from Cousin Bellatrix, she was the only female to attend meetings regularly.

      Regulus mused about that and how Bellatrix wasn't there today. Likely a bit too unstable, he figured. She had always been a little off, and marrying Rodolphus had made her no better. Though…hanging out with an unhinged Bellatrix was presumably better than being here.

      Riddle cleared his throat and began the meeting, talking in coded language about moving more arms and the latest developments regarding his own version of LSD. Of course, the coded talk seemed like a wasted effort when he showed them a little green pill with an "R" carved into it.

      As the meeting continued and each "Death Eater," as they called themselves, reported on their activities and about their territories, Regulus tuned most of it out. Sometimes he didn't understand why he was at the meetings, when all he was capable of was being muscle. Another ludicrous thought, as he had barely any muscle. But…he didn't want to be a pusher or a lord of war. Regulus just wanted not to feel anything. So going out and getting into fights or knocking someone down a peg—it did well to numb him. That was his only reason for being involved with Riddle's organized crime syndicate.

      The meeting wore on, and Regulus, towards the end, was vaguely aware of Riddle's furtive glances his way. When the session adjourned, most of the members left in carefully selected groups, so as not to draw attention. Regulus remained in his seat until it was just him, Riddle, and Nagini in the room.

      The Black son let his gaze drift towards his new master.

      "Regulus," Riddle said. He held his arms out so Nagini could get his jacket back on him. He straightened and flattened his lapels. "You were quieter than an American politician about Vietnam. I take it you've nothing to report?"

      "No, sir," Regulus replied.

      "Good. If you've nothing to say, then I'm not worried about our clients keeping their mouths shut." He eyed Regulus in an oddly fond way, knowing the things he'd taught Regulus. "Keep up the good work, Regulus."

      The young man nodded and waited until Riddle and Nagini left. Then he released the breath he'd been holding, trying not to think of those things he'd been taught.

      There were some things that couldn't be numbed away, after all.

      Leaving the meeting place—the Cave, some of the older Death Eaters called it—Regulus dragged his feet. He had no desire to head home immediately. Home had been the place to force him into the arms of someone like Riddle in the first place. Granted, now that he was a lieutenant in Riddle's organization, home wasn't as scary as it had been even months ago, when he'd been finishing up his schooling. But still…

      He headed up the street, trying to forget the afternoon's events. His eyes flitted past the other people walking, eyeing instead the buildings in the same neighborhood as the Cave. The Cave itself was just another home in a fairly dense residential area which bled into the city square, which had everything people needed. Like a bank.

      Good god. Why couldn't they just rob a bank or something? There was plenty of danger in doing that, and they could make something of it. Frankly, Regulus was all right with that sort of crime. It was quick and easy and done when the task was finished.

      But this other stuff? The drug-trafficking? International arms trade? The hustling? Regulus was fairly certain there were at least half a dozen other things going on that he didn't even know about, and his stomach turned at the merest daydream of what those things were.

      He sighed and slowed to a stop on the pavement, his hands in his light jacket pockets despite the humidity of the midsummer. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Eventually his stomach stopped doing queasy flips.

      "I need coffee," he muttered to himself, and his feet took him to the nearest coffee shop before his mind could catch up.

      With something in his stomach (the liquid would have to suffice since he had a bad habit of skipping breakfast and nibbling on the odd thing here and there for lunch), Regulus' nerves settled, and his mind escaped Riddle's grasp. For a nice moment, Regulus felt as though he were just like these other normal passersby. Someone even walked into his right shoulder and tossed back a casual "Sorry" before continuing on.

      Yes, the day could be redeemed with a good cup of coffee.

      Of course, Regulus had spoken too soon. He'd just taken another step forward when a voice called him back. "Oi, wait! Hey!"

      He peeked over his shoulder. The person who'd just bumped into him was coming over. Oh, bloody hell. Regulus faced forward and kept walking.

      "Hey!" the bloke called again, and he easily caught up to Regulus, enough so that he could place a hand on Regulus' shoulder. "Hey. Hi."

      Regulus paused and gave the man a look. "May I help you?"

      The man had red hair, as well as blue eyes that popped on his freckled face when he smiled. "You don't remember me," he stated with a trace of amusement in his voice.

      Honestly, Regulus could care less about this person. "You've mistaken me for someone else," he said, believing that to be the end of the conversation."

      "Regulus Black, right?"

      Now, wait a minute. He knew Regulus' name? Sure, Regulus had an unusual name—everyone in his family did; it was a tradition. But Regulus had never done much to stand out. He didn't exactly like standing out. The boldest thing he'd ever done was play footie for his school, but he stopped that the year before he'd graduated.

      The man's face fell slightly when he realized Regulus wasn't even trying to place his face. "Sorry. I'm Gideon. Gideon Prewett? I shared a dorm with your older brother when we were in school."

      Ah. Now things clicked. "Isn't there another one of you?" Regulus asked.

      "Oh, yeah. I s'pose you don't recognize me without my twin." Gideon scratched the back of his head and laughed a little at himself. "I'm just running errands on my own, though, while Fabian's out."

      Regulus grimaced. He didn't know what Gideon Prewett had hoped to accomplish by stopping him in the middle of the street. They'd never been friends. Regulus had known of him, yes, but just barely. Gideon was a year older than him, and Regulus' brother, Sirius, had been in a completely different dorm at their boarding school. Therefore, their prior interaction had been minimal at best.

      Gideon sheepishly smiled as if he now realized the pointlessness of saying hello. "Erm…how are you? You just graduated, didn't you?"

      Regulus bristled. "Yes," he replied curtly.

      Gideon blinked and shifted on his feet. "Um…how's Sirius?"

      "Dunno."

      It was hilarious. Regulus could see the "Oh, crap, I've stuck my foot in it" look on Gideon's face like neon lights. "Ah… Is that coffee you're drinking?"

      Regulus raised one eyebrow and took a sip. He'd let Gideon flounder a little longer.

      Gideon sighed. "All right, so you're not one for small talk." He sighed a second time and pursed his lips. Then: "Hey…do you still play footie?"

      Well, now, color Regulus impressed. "Not really," Regulus answered softly before he could catch himself. Oh, damn.

      Gideon realized it, too, that he'd gotten his foot in the door. "I envy you. You and James Potter—you blokes were talented at that." He chuckled. "I just trip over my feet—and that's just when I walk."

      The Black son withheld a snort. Oh, damn. When was the last time he'd wanted to laugh? Hell, when was the last time he'd even stopped to converse with someone? Reporting to Riddle didn't count. Getting lectures from Lucius about Regulus' future role in the Death Eaters didn't count. Threatening his parents when they dared to reprise their prior abuse didn't count.

      "So you live around here?" Gideon asked.

      Regulus grumped. "Yeah."

      "Wow. Small world. I used to live in a little town with my parents. Then Fabian and I got into the local university."

      "Ah."

      "Studying just the general stuff right now." Gideon scuffed his shoes on the concrete. "I, uh, don't really know what I want to do with my life."

      Regulus softened a fraction. To that, he could relate. "I get that," he mumbled.

      Gideon glimpsed the time on the large clock atop the bank. "Agh, bugger. I need to get back and cook lunch before Fabian swings by." He shook his head. "Sometimes it's more a burden than a blessing, sharing a flat with your twin. I have to feed him more than my goldfish."

      This time, Regulus did snicker. "A goldfish. Sounds ambitious."

      Gideon gave him a look, but he wasn't really put out. He glanced at the clock again and then locked eyes with Regulus. "Well, nice seeing you. Maybe I'll see you around?"

      Regulus pressed his lips together in a flat line and said nothing.

      "Er, right." Still, Gideon wasn't beaten down. He waved as he turned and headed in the opposite direction. "See you, Regulus!"

      And then Regulus was left standing on the pavement with a cup of coffee that had turned lukewarm and a spark of hope in his gut.

      The week persisted with no other excitement. Things had been quiet on the work front, and Regulus had not bumped into Gideon—literally or otherwise—again since. Regulus didn't know whether he should take comfort in his fortune or drown in the realization that everyone his age around him had all seemed to find their purpose in life.

      He pondered that in his bedroom at Twelve Grimmauld Place after a long meeting earlier in the day that Saturday. He had never had any plans for what he'd do after school because, quite honestly, he'd believed he'd be dead one way or another before his schooling had ended.

      One way or another… It was a light way of saying he'd be murdered or he'd kill himself before long. Once upon a time, Sirius had shared a similar fate, because their parents had abused them. But Sirius was the older one, and meeting James Potter and his other mates had changed his life, and he'd run away from the Black household when his sixteenth birthday came around.

      When they were little, Sirius and Regulus had been inseparable, partly because only they knew what they'd suffered. The verbal abuse and the mental anguish and the physical torture—another Black family tradition. And, when Sirius got older, he started talking of escape, and the closer it got to his sixteenth birthday, the grander his promises to Regulus were. "We'll leave here," Sirius had said, his gray eyes warm and sparkling as they'd never done when they were tiny. "We'll leave here and go where they can't find us or won't touch us. And if they somehow come after us… We'll get the authorities involved. And if the authorities can't help, then we'll just end them."

      And Regulus had fervently nodded, not even batting an eyelash at Sirius' loose plan for premeditated murder. But he'd believed in Sirius. Even when Sirius ran away and took up residence with the Potters, Regulus had believed in his big brother. He'd held his breath and borne the abuse with his eyes on the door, believing that at any minute Sirius would come breaking in to take Regulus with him.

      But that never happened, and Regulus had to find his own way out.

      Thinking back on it now, Regulus had to wonder if maybe he'd played into his parents' hands. They were former cronies of Riddle's syndicate, and they'd always wanted Sirius and him to step in and fill their shoes in Riddle's ranks. Even Bellatrix, the loon that she was, was a part of the whole bloody mess, with actual blood on her hands (not that the coppers knew, no, because she was just that good at not leaving incriminating evidence behind—another fact that made Regulus shiver).

      But he hadn't been counting on Riddle seeing something in him. He hadn't thought Riddle would decide to take him under his wing. He hadn't thought that Riddle would teach him ways to scare people—ways to hurt people and to keep himself from being hurt ever again. And so his parents, knowing what he was now capable of, left him to his own business, even though they continued to share the same roof.

      Still, it was a double-edged sword. Regulus was now involved in something that was beyond him and…he wasn't sure he wanted to be a part of it anymore.

      His dangerous thoughts were interrupted by the knock on his door. "Master Regulus?"

      "The door's open, Kreacher."

      The family butler, with his poor posture and gruff face, nudged the door open and brought Regulus a plate of food. "You've not eaten all day, Master Regulus."

      "No appetite."

      Kreacher frowned. He placed the plate on the bed by Regulus' legs and put a pot of herbal tea on the dresser. "Take better care of yourself, Master Regulus."

      Regulus sighed. "I try, Kreacher, I try."

      The butler sighed, too, and shrugged. With his sallow, wrinkly skin, thinned hair, and slightly pointed ears, he'd always reminded Regulus of a grumpy old elf. But Kreacher was good to him. He hadn't liked Sirius very much, but he'd done what little he could to help the boys. It just didn't help that he was also subject to the infamous tempers of Orion and Walburga Black.

      Kreacher exited Regulus' room, and Regulus turned so that his legs hung off his bed. He picked at the food and looked around his room, his mind returning to his previous train of thought.

      He'd joined Riddle's ranks prematurely, two years before he'd finished school. Sirius hadn't known, though, the few times the brothers had passed each other in the hallways, Regulus had gotten the feeling Sirius suspected. Why else would Regulus suddenly decide to wear long sleeves year-round? He'd never been a cutter…but Death Eaters swore their fealty with a macabre skull-and-snake tattoo inside their left elbows.

      Still, the ink had barely dried, the pain receded when Regulus began to regret his decision. He'd heard the news reports. He'd seen the censored photos on the telly. He'd barely had an idea of what Riddle's group was like. And he'd joined it anyway. All in the hopes that it might be something better than home.

      It was something better than home, but Regulus was older, wiser now. He knew more of the details that the press would never know about "Voldemort's" followers. He knew well enough that, even if he had no plans after school or outside this house…the life of a Death Eater was no life for him.

      Regulus got up and went to his closet. He wondered what he'd take with him if he left this place. On the floor of his closet was an old football, and he nudged it with his toe. That spark of hope in his gut reignited, and he placed his foot on the ball, rolling it out of the closet.

      There. It didn't look so out of place, not as much as Regulus imagined it might've. It was black and white, like much of his room. For the first time in a long while, Regulus felt the corners of his mouth lift up. A mad laugh bubbled up in his chest and throat and threatened to emerge, but he caged it.

      This house didn't deserve his smile or laughter. But maybe…maybe someplace (or someone) outside this house of horrors did.

      Aside from asking Bellatrix to help him join Riddle's gang, Regulus had never done anything for himself before. Well, all right, that wasn't entirely true. He'd tried out for his school's footie team. But, aside from those two things, he had never gone out of his way for himself.

      Which was why Regulus was so easily frustrated the following week and a half as he attempted to "bump" into Gideon Prewett on purpose. The meetings at the Cave were the same as ever—Regulus' ward was still quiet, and no clients needed any roughing up—so Regulus could devote his full efforts into "chancing" upon Gideon.

      Finally, two weeks after he'd first met the bubbly bloke, Regulus saw him as he headed into the coffee shop to pick his usual poison. He bought his drink, checked outside the window, and timed his exit perfectly.

      They didn't crash into each other (good thing, too, as Regulus drank hot coffee year-round, and being scalded in the middle of summer was not high on his list of things to do), but Gideon did skid to a halt. "Regulus."

      "Don't sound so surprised," Regulus retorted as he sipped.

      "I didn't really think I'd see you again."

      "…small world."

      Gideon grinned at having his own words thrown back at him. "Very true. I see you've got another coffee."

      The raven-haired male shrugged.

      "Nice day to be out." He nodded to Regulus. "Well, be seeing you—"

      "Wait."

      Gideon gawked at him.

      Shit. Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit. Regulus hadn't meant to stop him. But—he just wasn't ready for the chatter to stop.

      "Is something the matter?" Goddamn Gideon and the concern in his eyes.

      "No, of course not," Regulus lied.

      Gideon's surprise melted away as he stared at Regulus. Regulus couldn't read whatever it was in his eyes. "Regulus."

      "Mm?" the shorter said over the rim of his cup.

      "Do you want to catch up sometime?"

      Huh. Did he? Regulus wasn't entirely sure. Yes, he'd been looking for Gideon. And he'd like to talk with him. But "catch up"? "Not really catch up," Regulus confessed.

      Gideon nodded, likely having figured as much. "Sorry I bothered you before."

      "But I'd like to talk again, sometime." Regulus chanced a look at Gideon head on, and his stomach turned, happily.

      The taller man had rosy cheeks that made his freckles stick out sorely. "Sounds good to me," he remarked, with relief in his tone. He glanced in the direction he'd been heading and then looked back at Regulus. "Say… Um. I have to take Fabian his textbook," he said, showing Regulus a large biology book, "because he had an open-book and -notes exam today, and the git never takes notes…"

      "As I said, 'sometime' is fine," Regulus hastily added, his hopes dashed.

      "No, it's just—do you want to go for a drink? Or," Gideon rushed when he realized how stupid he sounded since Regulus quite obviously had a drink, "do you want to go for lunch? My treat."

      Regulus furrowed his brow. "But you're heading somewhere."

      "I'll be back in twenty minutes, tops," Gideon promised. He looked up and down the street, and he pointed to a restaurant with a brown awning and a sign that read "Earth Space." "Meet me there in twenty? It's a much better place than it looks like on the outside."

      "I suppose…"

      "Great! See you then."

      And that was how Regulus found himself in a setting that wasn't Twelve Grimmauld Place or the Cave.

      He had nothing else to do, so he finished his drink and waited at an open-window table inside Earth Space. It was nice in there, even if it was obviously owned by former hippies. And, with the windows open, it wasn't stuffy, which was also nice.

      Considering Regulus often had trouble occupying his free time with meaningful things, twenty minutes flew by before it even registered with him that he was bored. Just in time, Gideon appeared. "We meet again," the redhead quipped as he took the seat across from Regulus.

      "Something occurred to me," Regulus said as a waitress brought them water. "It's summer. Why is he going to school?"

      "Oh, we're both taking summer classes," Gideon corrected. "See, Fabian's dating Dorcas Meadowes, who does have a career plan. She's taking summer courses, so Fabian is. Since he's taking summer courses, I am, because I want to graduate at the same time."

      Regulus "hmm"d. He was envious of that part of Gideon who was still so close to his brother. "You can do that when you haven't decided a track yet?"

      Gideon nodded. "Summer courses are more expensive, but Mum and Dad made it our graduation present."

      The waitress returned. She took their orders and disappeared, and then Gideon resumed their conversation in earnest.

      "So did you ever think about university?"

      Regulus scrunched up his nose. "Heavens, no. I did well in school. Towards the top of my class. But university isn't for me."

      "Aw, why not?" Gideon grinned. "I'll be honest, it's a way of delaying adulthood, if you ask me."

      "That sounds nice."

      "Really?" Gideon raised his eyebrows. "I can't picture that, a Black not wanting to grow up."

      Regulus observed Gideon. He meant no harm, Regulus concluded. Gideon was only referencing the airs past Black family members put on. "Well, picture it. It's sitting right in front of you." So what would Gideon say now? That Regulus was odd and not worth the effort? Maybe Gideon liked being childish himself but wouldn't be around someone equally childish.

      Interestingly enough, Gideon released a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. I was wondering what it'd be like, talking to you for real."

      "You did?"

      "Yeah. I knew Sirius, and we got on okay. But it was obvious he was the Black family black sheep. Your cousins—the ones that graduated before me—they always came across as unapproachable. Well, Narcissa not as much as the rest. Definitely not Andromeda."

      "Andromeda's another black sheep."

      "Ah." Gideon stroked his chin in thought. "Hmm. But you… It was still too early to tell. And, knowing Sirius, I confess I was a bit curious about you." Gideon smiled then, a large but easy smile that was comforting at the same time. "So what's Regulus Black like? What's his favorite color, favorite school subject? Does he still play football? Has he ever dressed like a hippie? Is he a peace-loving bloke?"

      Regulus felt his face warm, and he gulped his ice water down in an effort to cool it. "You ask a lot of questions."

      "I'm a curious fellow."

      "Noted."

      Their meals arrived—a salad Regulus could pick at and a burger big enough that Gideon had to cut it in half—and the two men ate. "This is nice," Gideon commented.

      "What is?"

      Gideon gestured to the table. "Eating out with a mate. I'm always with Fabian or Fabian and Dorcas, and then it's not really fair 'cause I'm the third wheel—what?"

      Regulus made a face at him. "I'm not your mate."

      "Oh. Well, sorry 'bout that. Eating out with an acquaintance." Gideon didn't lose his enthusiasm, even after the interruption. "I don't get to do this often. Haven't really made any friends yet at the uni."

      They ate in silence after that, mostly because Regulus was trying to gather his thoughts. He agreed with Gideon—this was nice. He'd never done anything of the sort, either.

      Gideon waited until their food was nearly gone before he spoke again. "I'm trying to figure it out."

      "What?" Regulus looked up from his salad and was startled by the blueness of Gideon's eyes in the late afternoon sun.

      "If you want to do this again."

      Regulus frowned. Wasn't it obvious? "I'd like to."

      "Are you certain?" Gideon frowned, too, and Regulus disliked the sight. Him frowning, Sirius frowning, Kreacher frowning, the Death Eaters frowning—that all made sense. But a frown on Gideon's face somehow looked wrong, even though Regulus barely knew him.

      "Very."

      Gideon stared at him a little longer and then nodded, believing him. "All right. I just—I'm not fond of people who don't mean what they say."

      A lump formed in Regulus' throat. "O-Oh…?"

      "It's a long story," Gideon said, half a grin appearing on his features.

      "For another time, then."

      Gideon's grin mellowed out into that kind smile from before. "Another time, yeah."

      True to his word, Gideon paid for lunch, and the duo exited Earth Space. Regulus stuck to Gideon's side, not certain where they headed but not wanting to part with him just yet.

      "I'd love to do something else, but…" Gideon gave him an apologetic look. "I have some reading to do for one of my classes, and I've been procrastinating long enough."

      "Of course." Regulus cleared his throat. "Thanks. For the meal, and the company."

      "You're welcome, but the pleasure was mine."

      Ugh. Gideon was a gentleman to a sickeningly extreme extent.

      They kept walking until they approached an old-looking, brown brick complex. Gideon turned to Regulus. "Well, this is me. Hey, don't be a stranger, yeah?"

      Regulus nodded.

      Gideon nodded, too. "Erm…shall we do the same again?"

      "That's fine."

      "I have night classes on Wednesdays and no classes on Fridays, so feel free to lurk in the area around then. I'll keep an eye out for you." Gideon winked, and then he went into the building.

      Regulus stared at the door. He lifted his head, looking to the windows and wondering if he'd catch a glimpse of that jovial silhouette.

      Speaking of the devil, Gideon appeared at the third floor corner window on the right. He opened the window and stuck his head out, waving with a goofy grin on his face.

      Regulus waved back, and he had to be the one to leave first when Gideon leaned on the sill, not intending to move. Until he reached the end of the street, Regulus could feel Gideon's eyes on his back. And he rather liked that.

      Regulus now felt as though he was a juggling act.

      The more time he spent with Gideon, the closer he got to the older male. The more he felt as though he'd made a friend.

      But, while some of his afternoons were filled with Gideon, most of his days were still preoccupied with the Death Eaters. And, having befriended Gideon, it made it harder to sit there, in the Cave where the air was half smoke and half hash and the atmosphere was one of hatred.

      The more often he went to meetings, the more Regulus wanted to see Gideon's happy face.

      He did his damnedest, however, to make certain Riddle and none of the others saw him daydreaming. Riddle, unfortunately, was sharp, and he could sniff out the faintest hint of absentmindedness.

      "Regulus," he said lowly after one meeting in early August. As usual, the others had left, and it was him, Nagini, and Regulus in the Cave. "Regulus, Regulus, Regulus, my boy…"

      Regulus' hackles went up.

      "I'm almost saddened there's been nothing for you to handle as of late."

      He knew better than to speak.

      "Perhaps I can find some work for you… Yes, Nagini… Bring me my notebook, from my briefcase…"

      Nagini did so silently (did she ever speak? Regulus had never heard her voice), and she slinked in and out of the room, notebook in hand. Riddle took it from her and withdrew a silver pen from his breast pocket as he flipped through the pages.

      "Tut tut," Riddle clicked his tongue. "Now let's see… Hmm, Meadowes…no, not yet… Bones… No, I'll pay them a visit myself… Longbottom—I'll send Bellatrix… Ah. McKinnon." Riddle scrawled something down and passed it to Regulus. It was an address. "Don't do anything to them specifically yet. But employ the scare tactics I taught you. They've been acting up and need to learn their place."

      Regulus nodded, though his stomach clenched.

      "And have someone go with you. Maybe Mulciber. He needs more to do. He can help. Guide him as you see fit."

      Regulus nodded again and turned to leave, but Riddle called him back.

      "And, Regulus, don't let him bully you around because you're younger. You have higher rank. Put Mulciber in his place, if you need to." Though something in Riddle's reddish–brown eyes told Regulus to rough Mulciber up either way.

      "Yes, sir."

      Riddle nodded his approval and waved the Black son away. "Very well, then. You're dismissed."

      "Hey, did you hear about the satanic ritual on the dodgy end of Carp Street?" Gideon asked Regulus days later.

      Regulus froze and didn't look at Gideon as they walked from Gideon's complex to Earth Space. "No," he lied. "What happened?"

      Gideon shook his head and shivered. "A whole bunch of birds and one neighborhood cat—they were gutted and hung from the branches of the tree in a family's yard." He grimaced. "I know a family on Carp Street. God, I hope it wasn't their home."

      "It probably wasn't," Regulus assured him, though who was he to know? Did Gideon know the police family, the McKinnons? Regulus vaguely recalled a McKinnon girl in Sirius' year, but he didn't know if she was the same as the ones Riddle wanted intimidated.

      "And to hurt those animals… Only someone sick could do that," Gideon added lowly.

      Regulus fidgeted and glanced at his fingernails while Gideon gazed forward. He hadn't been able to get all the blood out from under his nails yet, but at least he wasn't wholly guilty from Gideon's viewpoint. He hadn't done the killing. Mulciber had been more than happy to do the killing. Regulus had just hung them from the branches like morbid Christmas decorations. He didn't really…do killing… Regulus shook some other thoughts from his head. He had to push such things from his mind. He needed to focus on enjoying Gideon's company.

      Gideon glanced at Regulus. "It's scary, what's becoming of the world, don't you think?"

      "Mm" was all Regulus could muster.

      "Regulus, you look pale. Are you all right?"

      "I'm fine," Regulus lied. "I just need something to eat."

      They ate as per usual at Earth Space, but the August heat was quite something. It made Regulus wish he didn't need to continue to wear long sleeves to cover his tattoo, and Gideon mentioned it. "Aren't you hot in long sleeves?"

      "I manage," Regulus said, though he at least gathered his hair up off his neck and tied it back. "There. Better."

      Gideon's eyes lingered on his neck for a moment, though Regulus had no idea why. Gideon cleared his throat and fanned himself as they sat at their window table after lunch. "How about we get some ice-cream next?"

      "Sounds good."

      "Great. I know this good little shop two streets over, if you don't mind the walk."

      Regulus smiled gently, though the expression still felt alien on his face. "After a month of walking up and down Main Street, you finally say that."

      Gideon laughed.

      They went to the ice-cream shop, and the heat felt worse. Two streets over, the road and sidewalks were crowded with people who wanted cool things like ice-cream and iced beverages. As expected, the line for the shop was long, and Regulus and Gideon had to squeeze together to keep their spot lest some parent cut in line for the sake of their child.

      Gideon's hand brushed Regulus' side, and the latter flinched. "Whoops, sorry," Gideon blurted.

      Regulus frowned but shook his head. "No, it's all right." His pulse had quickened at the touch, but the flinch? He knew that was his body recalling the last time someone had touched him, and that had not been a happy memory.

      The line moved sluggishly, but they finally reached the window. Gideon got a cone of cookie dough, and Regulus, who'd never been allowed anything besides vanilla, was adventurous and had chocolate. "You've really never had chocolate ice-cream?" Gideon teased good-naturedly as they moved away from the crowd.

      "Never. And I can't believe what I was missing out," Regulus said between licks. He also wasn't used to eating from anything besides a dish, so he ended up with ice-cream melting all over his fingers.

      Gideon cracked up. He offered him some napkins as they wound their way back to his complex. "Oh, good grief," he chuckled between sniggers. "Just come on up. You can wash up at the flat."

      Regulus' cheeks flushed and not from the heat of the sun. He followed Gideon upstairs—cripes, the stairwell was sweltering—and waited while Gideon got his key out and unlocked the front door.

      "Welcome to Chateau Prewett," the redhead said in a poor imitation of a French accent.

      The younger male snickered. "Nice accent."

      "Oh, shut it, you." Gideon pointed down the end of the short hallway that was the entryway. "Kitchen's on the right, but the loo's directly on the left, so have your pick of sinks."

      Regulus nodded and went for the washroom. He washed his hands, and, once all the chocolate was gone, he took some toilet paper, dampened it, and swiped the sweat from the back of his neck. It felt wonderful to be inside, in air conditioning. "Feel free to turn the AC up, Gideon," he said, leaving the loo and entering the kitchen/living area. He stopped when he saw someone on the couch. "Oh… Hello."

      A face identical to Gideon's stared at him, but something told Regulus right away this person wasn't Gideon. So it had to be… "How'd you know I'm not Gideon?" Fabian asked.

      "Because I'm the good-looking one," Gideon joked from across the breakfast bar beyond the couch. He motioned to his twin. "Regulus, my twin brother, Fabian."

      Fabian gave his twin a scowl. "I wanted to mess with him. You took all the fun out of it, Gid."

      "Yes, yes, now play nice."

      Regulus looked between the two. He wondered if Gideon had been expecting his brother home.

      As if he'd read Regulus' mind, Gideon remarked, "Fabian's last class got cancelled. So here he is."

      "Nice to meet you," Regulus said automatically.

      Fabian tipped his head to him before returning his attention to Gideon. "You should've given me a head's up you were having company over. Dorcas is coming by tonight. I was going to cook."

      "Then it's a good thing I'm here, huh?" Gideon glanced at the Black son. "Between the two of us, Fabian's the one likely to burn the building down. But I can cook. And poor Dorcas. Your cooking is going to force her to cook instead, brother."

      Fabian made a face at him. "Oh, shut it." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked again at Regulus. "So you're Black's little brother?"

      Regulus clenched his jaw but nodded.

      "You don't say much, do you?"

      "Fabian," Gideon warned.

      Fabian shrugged. "Sorry, sorry." He still stared at Regulus, who was rooted to the spot. Regulus decided he didn't mind at all when Gideon stared at him, but Fabian seemed to scrutinize him. "So…do you still hang out with those nutjobs?"

      The question came completely out of nowhere. "Sorry?" Regulus said, hating how weak his voice sounded. Gideon yelled at his brother in the background.

      "Well, those types. Bellatrix. Lestranges. Malfoy. Nott. The various others."

      Gideon stomped out of the kitchenette and over to his brother, his face red with anger. "Fabian! Bugger off!"

      "Gideon, I'm just asking. Don't you remember that crowd? Sirius even pointed it out to us in the dorm and told us to stay away, that they weren't any good." Fabian looked genuinely concerned about his twin. "I'm just warning you."

      "And you know what, Fabian? We just don't know Regulus well enough. We didn't back then, and we don't now." He puffed up his chest and walked over to Regulus, placing a protective hand on his shoulder. Regulus was stunned by the warmth of his touch. "I, for one, would like to change that."

      Fabian rolled his eyes and raised his hands in an "Why do I even bother?" gesture. "Whatever. Sorry about that, Regulus," he conceded as his twin continued to glare at him.

      "It's fine," Regulus said, but his response was rather automated, because his mind was fuzzy with Gideon standing so close to him.

      Gideon groaned. "Look, Fab, I'll be right back and I'll cook your dinner for you two after I see Regulus out." He ushered Regulus to the door then, and they left the flat.

      "He's not horrid, don't worry about him," Regulus assured Gideon.

      They were still one flight from the bottom. "No, I should apologize. He's very blunt to the point of rudeness." Gideon shook his head. "I think we look alike partly to make up for the differences in our personalities."

      "Well, if it's all the same to you, I do think you two look different. I could tell he wasn't you right away."

      Gideon blinked, stupefied. "Really? How?"

      Regulus snickered. "You are, as you said, the good-looking one."

      There was a pause, and then Gideon burst out laughing, which worried Regulus for a second. "Oh, wow… You really are a funny one, Regulus."

      "I think I'm being made fun of," Regulus groused with a pout.

      "No, no, never…" Gideon stared at him.

      Ah, yes. Regulus could never get tired of Gideon staring at him, even if it did make him feel a tad self-conscious. Case in point: He tugged the edge of his sleeves down, knowing there was still some dried blood under his nails.

      Gideon glanced at Regulus' hands and took one before Regulus could protest. He eyed the thin fingers in his just-as-pale hand, though Gideon's hands were freckled where Regulus' were not. He thumbed Regulus' nails, and Regulus truly believed he'd been found out and that this momentary happiness would come crashing down any second once Gideon realized it was blood.

      And then:

      "Ah, you've still got chocolate under your nails," Gideon muttered.

      Regulus squeezed his eyes shut tight, guilt weighing him down. He tugged his hand free. "I'll take care of it when I get home," he clarified.

      They marched down the last few steps, and Gideon parted with him at the glass doors. "Hey, Reg."

      It didn't miss his attention, the nickname.

      "I meant what I said, about getting to know you better. More than just lunch dates and ice-cream." Gideon smiled, and pain seized Regulus' chest. "Feel free to drop by whenever you want. I'm sure Fabian will get used to you."

      Regulus didn't trust his voice, so he nodded. Then he turned and headed out. He paused, glanced over his shoulder, and waved at Gideon. Then he headed for home. The trolley ride home was unbelievably long, but it gave Regulus time to think…

      …and the time to realize that it wasn't necessarily pain in his chest but heartache.

      Riddle was proud of the stunt at the McKinnons'. Mulciber kept trying to say that he'd done most of the work, but the other senior members just snickered at him, believing Regulus to have proven his mettle.

      Regulus could care less. His mind was no longer present at the meetings. In this era of drugs and free love and all that other bullshit, Regulus…was actually happy.

      He was happy to have found Gideon. Gideon was someone who could elicit the rare smile from him, someone who'd barely smiled before in his whole life. And it was effortless for Gideon to make Regulus happy. Just being around Gideon did the trick.

      But Regulus understood just how dangerous his feelings were. It might be 1979, but the time of free love was coming to an end, and it would be 1980 in a few months' time. 1980. Who knew what was coming then? Riddle had some new plan, some big plan set up for the end of 1980, though he'd shared no part of his plan with any of them.

      Rightly so. Despite having taken Regulus under his wing, Riddle was right not to confide even in Regulus. Regulus had started doubting his allegiance to the Death Eaters before meeting Gideon. But now that he had met the kinder of the Prewett twins, Regulus had the most dangerous weapon in the world:

      Hope.

      Hope could drive a man to defy the odds and to defy his master. And Regulus Arcturus Black was thinking of just that.

      Still, it was risky. No one left Riddle of their own accord. If they tried, they knew they'd be dead. That was why none of them had ever dared to think it before.

      But Regulus was thinking of it now. "What's it like, university?" he asked Gideon in late August. They were at the flat, having taken over the living room. Not that Fabian minded. Gideon had ponied up twenty quid so that Fabian could take Dorcas to the cinema.

      "Hmm. Difficult work." Gideon sat up from the odd heap they'd made on the floor, taking the couch cushions and throws and blankets to make some sort of nest. But it was comfy, especially with them reading quietly side by side, just enjoying the presence of one another. "But the things you learn—it's amazing. The world's changed so much just in the twentieth century. Can you imagine what it's going to be like over twenty years from now?"

      Regulus didn't touch that. Truth be told, he was still afraid he'd be six feet under somewhere in twenty years, if not well before then. "Do you like it?"

      "I do. The general classes I'm taking now make me feel as though I could be anything I want to be." Gideon laughed at himself. "Do I sound like a child? I sound like a child."

      "You sound like a child."

      "Git." Gideon shoved Regulus' arm, but then he brought Regulus back, hooking an arm around the smaller's shoulders. He reopened his book.

      "Um…Gideon. I can't read like this."

      "Oh, well. I can. So I win."

      Regulus glared up at him. "You're such a prat."

      Gideon raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

      "Definitely." But Regulus wasn't struggling to leave the cage that was Gideon's arms.

      "Well, whatever will you do about that?"

      Regulus grimaced as Gideon went back to reading. Gideon always got the better of him, it seemed. So he turned in Gideon's arms, reached up, and—and he touched the side of Gideon's face.

      Gideon's attention was back on him. His book was forgotten.

      Hell. What to do next? Regulus had never been in love before. He wasn't even certain that he was capable of love. He didn't really know the emotion. Sure, maybe he'd loved his brother when they were little and before Sirius had left him to the mercy of their parents. But that was different. And this was Gideon.

      Gideon put his book down. His face moved closer to Regulus'. Once more, those baby blues bored holes into Regulus.

      Regulus held his breath…and then the moment was gone once he caught the sight of his hands. His nails were immaculate this time.

      But last night they'd been coated in Edgar Bones' blood as he'd cleaned up after Avery's torture of the man.

      The Black son turned away at the last moment, and Gideon ended up with his nose in Regulus' ear. The redhead cleared his throat.

      "Sorry," he said, clearing his throat.

      "No, it's—" Regulus stopped. What? "It's fine"? No, it wasn't. "It's my fault"? Well, everything was Regulus' fault.

      But Gideon wasn't convinced that anything had been a mistake. This was made apparent when he simply resettled his arms around Regulus. "Another time, then," he said, and his words were more comforting than they should've been to Regulus.

      Regulus…had never determined how Riddle picked his targets.

      Some part of him believed Riddle liked to choose his victims at random. Other times, it made sense—like the McKinnons. Why wouldn't a criminal target a family of cops?

      Then sometimes Regulus entertained the idea that maybe they were all carrying out the whimsies of a madman whose sole purpose in life was to exact revenge on everyone who had ever slighted him.

      Whatever the case, Regulus knew he'd never fully understand Tom Riddle, and he didn't really want to understand him. He especially began to worry when Kreacher approached him at the end of August with concern lining his aged face.

      "Master Regulus…"

      The house was quiet. Regulus' parents were out, so Regulus was roaming Grimmauld Place freely. But Kreacher's expression had stopped him in his tracks. "Kreacher?"

      "Kreacher's been summoned, sir… By You-Know-Who…"

      Ah. "You-Know-Who." Another name for Riddle, for those who daren't speak his other title. "How? When, why?"

      The butler shook his head. "Dunno, sir… The mistress told me before she left for the evening that he wanted to see me before your first October meeting…"

      How odd. Or maybe not, at least in terms of how Riddle had used Regulus' mother as the contact. But why go through her and not Regulus? A sense of unease developed in the Black heir. "I see."

      "Master Regulus…" Kreacher's eyes were wide with fright.

      "Don't worry, Kreacher," Regulus said with a comforting pat on the shoulder. "I'm sure it's nothing." But Regulus knew that was a lie. Why would Riddle want anything to do with someone's servant?

      He continued to debate the reasons through the next several days, which made it hard for him to pay attention during meetings. Dolohov, greasy Russian git he was, rudely pointed out to Regulus his lack of attention, but at least Riddle didn't call him out on it.

      Gideon noticed, too, his nervousness. They'd begun to have dinner over at Gideon's flat, sometimes with Fabian or Fabian and Dorcas, mostly without, and Regulus preferred to end his days and nights in Gideon's good company.

      "You seem awfully jumpy tonight," Gideon stated, placing a plate of stew and potatoes before the lanky male who sat on the floor in front of the couch.

      "Sorry," Regulus remarked without thinking.

      "It was an observation, Reg, nothing for you to apologize for." Gideon sat on the couch, and Regulus could feel those eyes on him again.

      "Stop staring."

      "Then talk to me."

      Regulus frowned, and he peeked up at Gideon. Hell's bells. He wanted to tell Gideon everything. But…how much could he tell Gideon before Gideon hated him?

      "Regulus." Gideon was imploring him.

      The Black son's shoulders sagged. "I…I'm in a tough spot."

      "What sort of tough spot?"

      "The bad kind."

      "Can I help?"

      Regulus leaned back against the couch, tilting his head left so he could rest it against Gideon's knee. "This helps, trust me."

      "Regulus, I—" He paused and took a breath. "I care about you. I care about what happens to you," he hastily added.

      Regulus weighed his options. He knew he could trust Gideon, someone who'd been so determined not to judge the book by its cover. "I'll only tell you a little."

      "Tell me whatever you feel like telling me."

      The raven-haired man put his plate down, not having even taken a bite yet, and faced Gideon, though he remained on the floor. He fiddled with his sleeves' cuffs again. "I…am involved in something deep."

      Gideon blanched. "A relationship?"

      "What? No."

      "Oh. All right." Gideon breathed a sigh of relief. Good grief, he was beginning to be transparent to Regulus.

      "I…am involved in something. And I want to break free of it."

      "So…leave?"

      Regulus shook his head. "It's not that easy. These people are—" He stopped just short of calling them killers. "They're scary. They're not afraid to hurt others."

      Gideon frowned. He opened and closed his mouth several times. Then, finally: "Is it…your parents?"

      That was surprising. "Why would you ask that?"

      "I…" He fumbled for the right words. "Fab and I knew. About the abuse. Sirius told James and Remus and Peter, and Fab and Frank and I found out when we saw Sirius 'round the dorm. Sometimes he was in rough shape. And then he was better once he started living with James." Gideon reached for Regulus and started gingerly poking and prodding Regulus. "Are you hurt?"

      Regulus swatted his hand away. "No. No, I'm fine. That stuff stopped years ago when I—" Oops.

      "When you what?"

      "I…showed them I wasn't scared of them anymore."

      "Oh."

      Regulus hesitated. "You…you weren't interested in me just because you thought I needed saving, were you?"

      Gideon blushed. "No! No, I…" He cleared his throat. "I have to say, it was strange seeing you after all this time, but I…" He closed his eyes and shook his head, groaning. "Are you going to make me say it?"

      "Yes." Now Regulus was curious.

      "It was…love at first sight."

      Well, hell. Neither of them had said anything until now. "Thank you," Regulus said.

      Gideon gawked at him. "That's all you have to say?!"

      Regulus grinned. "Maybe we can finish talking first?"

      "Oh. Um, of course…"

      Regulus closed his eyes, his grin fading. "It's a bad situation, Gideon. I think my only options are to stay…or to die."

      Gideon gripped his shoulder. "I won't let that happen. You can't die."

      "Then maybe there's a third option: Go into hiding. Or fleeing the country. Whichever works out best."

      Gideon made a small noise in the back of his throat. "You definitely need to leave them, then."

      "Yes. But I've nowhere to go." It was true. He couldn't go home. He had no place to hide—

      "Well…you've got me. Stay here. Come be with me."

      Regulus looked up at Gideon and saw the sincerity in his gaze. It was clear that Gideon meant his words and meant it as more than just having a place to crash.

      But, while Regulus appreciated the offer, he wouldn't feel right. He'd only be putting Gideon in danger. "Fabian, too," Regulus told him.

      Gideon's pout deepened to a frown and was borderline grimace. "Regulus, I…"

      Regulus, timidly, reached for Gideon's hand. He'd learned by now not to look at his own hands, lest he doubt his deserving of this happiness considering all that he'd done in Riddle's name. But Gideon was offering him a new life, and the spark of hope in him was flaming up to become a glowing ember, hard to put out.

      "Reg?"

      Regulus gave Gideon's hand a squeeze. "I've got some things to think out."

      "Please—use the utmost caution." Gideon leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his supper abandoned. He still had Regulus' hand in his.

      Regulus reached up with his free hand and stroked Gideon's hair. It was the only thing he could "say" at the moment.

      It'd been months, and sometimes it still bothered Regulus that they made no sense. Acquaintances, friends, something more—who in the world had decided that Regulus should find solace in the slightly stocky form of Gideon Prewett?

      Whoever had, Regulus thanked them from the bottom of his heart.

      And it was from the bottom of his heart that he summoned the courage to skulk about the Cave after the meetings, trying to dig up something on Riddle. It was the only way he figured he might make it out alive. Regulus was smart. He could manage blackmail. Probably.

      After all, Riddle wasn't perfect, and he'd slipped up twice recently, mentioning his big plans, talk of "finishing his list" next year or so. So that was how things were. Riddle did have a list of targets he was working on.

      Regulus mused about Riddle keeping such a list on his person. Maybe in that briefcase of his, in that notebook. But the more he mused about the idea, the more he didn't believe in it. Keeping something incriminating with him all the time? Riddle was definitely smarter than that.

      As for the Cave—it was owned by Riddle. No one lived there, but Riddle and his Death Eaters used it. It was like a safe house, and Regulus could easily picture him hiding away his secrets there.

      The weeks passed, Gideon's concerns grew, and Regulus' efforts felt futile when still nothing bore fruit. The Cave was as empty as its moniker implied—maybe there really was nothing there.

      But Regulus' opinion changed when Kreacher came to Regulus before that first October meeting. "Kreacher's supposed to meet him at the Cave," the butler informed Regulus.

      Ah ha. "Kreacher." Regulus rushed to the man standing in his doorway. He spoke in undertones. "When you're done there, come to me immediately and tell me everything."

      Kreacher didn't question him at all. The only person the butler was truly loyal to was Regulus, the boy he'd tried to protect and who'd been the only being ever to show him kindness.

      The wait was the worst, and Regulus tried to calm down by thinking of what might happen after. He had to think he'd live, he had to, for Gideon's sake—Kreacher's, too. After Kreacher was back, he'd send him far away. As for himself—he'd hide with Gideon for a while until he formulated a real plan. And then after… Well, he hadn't gotten that far yet. But something would come to him. He was sure of it.

      And then the night came.

      Regulus had just gotten home from an evening in with Gideon, an evening fraught with autumn chilliness and Gideon being ridiculous and saying he needed someone to warm him up and them being awkward and exploring a new territory that really neither of them were ready for and so had ended with a lot of hands in strange places and mouths just not quite meeting yet.

      Kreacher had scrambled to the door as soon as Regulus had shucked his jacket. "Master Regulus," he bumbled. "Master…!"

      "What is it?" he asked, placing his hands on the servant's shoulders.

      Kreacher was out of breath. "He's… He's booby-trapped the Cave… There's a room… He's keeping things there… It's nothing I'd ever expect to see in Britain, in that calm neighborhood…"

      Regulus waited until Kreacher calmed down. "Kreacher…show me."

      They left at once for the Cave. Regulus halted and checked to ensure the coast was clear. Once certain, they entered. It was as quiet as ever.

      Kreacher led him to the second floor, to a door in the middle of the hallway. Regulus had checked it before, but the door had always been locked. It hadn't bothered him much because, judging by the other rooms on the floor, the footprint of the room wouldn't have been very large, about the size of a closet.

      Regulus tried the handle—and the door swung open silently.

      Kreacher whimpered behind Regulus, who motioned to him to wait outside.

      Inside, the room was no closet. It was deceptively large, about the size of a small office. In the center of the room was a safe. So. Riddle's secrets truly were tangible.

      "Master, be careful!" Kreacher whimpered. And he saw the fear in Kreacher's eyes when he touched the safe.

      Nothing happened.

      Kreacher breathed a sigh of relief. "Can we leave now? Please, Master Regulus…"

      Then the door swung shut.

      Kreacher howled from the other side of the door, and Regulus barely had the time to turn around. He heard a switch flip, and he drew his hand away, expecting that maybe the safe would now be electrified. But that wasn't the case. A metal cage came crashing down around the safe, trapping Regulus. And that was electrified.

      Being electrocuted was, indeed, a new experience for Regulus. He'd been beaten. He'd been cut. He'd been burned—that was a favorite of his father's. He'd been air-deprived—a favorite of his mother's. But electrocution was the best of both worlds—the currents felt like liquid fire through his veins, making him gasp for air.

      Riddle cackled in the background. "Well, well… I've caught myself a rat."

      Regulus could barely turn and face Riddle as the gate lifted. The electrocution had been intended to get his attention. Oh, he was attentive now.

      "You know, Regulus, I had high hopes for you. The others, they're mostly brutes who'd prefer their fists or prudes who won't bother getting their hands dirty—the latter being Lucius' type, of course, and Mulciber the former. But you…" Riddle approached his writhing form on the ground. "You, my boy, I saw in you the possibility to be the next me. I even taught you the ways of the butterfly knife. I taught you how to dissect a person's hand. I taught you how to skin a person. I taught you all the places to slice so that someone might bleed out. But you know what concerned me the most? You took my lessons, but I never got to see you put your learning to good use. And then I thought, 'Ah, he'll grow into it.' Until as of late."

      Regulus gasped for air, but air was returning to his lungs. He could barely get up from the ground yet, however.

      Riddle peered down at him with a frown. "Haven't you ever had my desires? To flay someone alive? To get your own justice?"

      Good grief. Riddle had a warped idea of justice.

      "Come now. I know your parents. I know what they did. Are you telling me that you've never wanted to carve out your mother's eyes and drain the vitreous fluid from them? Or take that lovely knife I gave you—my first, you know—and make a horizontal slice across your father's belly and pull his entrails out like a magician's colored scarves?" Riddle hummed in amusement. "My, I quite like that image, if I do say so myself."

      Regulus sucked in as much air as his pained lungs could handle in that second—and he bolted up, dodging Riddle, throwing open the door, and only wasting enough breath to yell at Kreacher to run.

      They sped down the hallway and flew down the stairs, but Riddle was right behind them. Despite his age, Kreacher passed Regulus. Of course he would. He hadn't been electrocuted—or had he, before?

      "So sorry, Master Regulus!" Kreacher gasped. "He tricked me! The safe was wired! He tried it on me!"

      Regulus didn't blame Kreacher. He had understood the moment the gate had appeared that this had all been one large trap set just for him. Kreacher had only been used as a pawn.

      Something whizzed by Regulus' head and nailed Kreacher in the back, by his left shoulder blade. Kreacher cried out in pain and tripped. The item was a small blade.

      "Don't make me run out of knives," Riddle complained, and Regulus glanced back in time to see the older man draw a pistol from his inside coat pocket.

      Regulus hauled Kreacher to his feet, leaving the blade in, in case pulling it out would be worse. But they were too slow moving.

      Riddle fired off a shot, nicking Regulus in the right shoulder and making him fall forward onto his knees. "Ah, there we are. Groveling is a good place to start, Regulus," Riddle called to him.

      Regulus grunted and tried to get up. But then Riddle was on him, and—with a vicious and audible thwack—he pistol-whipped Regulus hard enough that his head snapped back. Regulus fell in a lump on the ground.

      Riddle tutted at his traitorous minion. Judging by the sounds Regulus heard, Riddle begun to open his butterfly knife. But then: "Hmm, never mind. I find Mulciber's way of doing things lacks finesse, but I just can't find it in me to waste my energy carving you up." He pressed the heel of his shoe into Regulus' chest and bent over, raising his pistol handle out and coming down swinging the handle into Regulus' head over and over and over again.

      Eventually Regulus' vision reddened and then grayed. He stopped moving. He held his breath until it was too painful and until he couldn't hold it anymore.

      Riddle eyed his handiwork and yanked Kreacher up. He wiped the blood off his gun. "You," he said to the butler. "Tell his parents. Tell the other Death Eaters. He's an example." Riddle sniffed. "I don't think anyone else will be turning against me again."

      And so they left Regulus' body for the neighborhood and local authorities to find.

      (But the body wasn't there by the time the emergency responders arrived.)

      If there was one thing to count on when it came to Riddle, it was that his haughtiness got the best of him, and he always thought himself the smartest man in the room.

      It was a small but comforting thought to which Regulus clung as he used back alleys and dragged himself to Gideon's complex. It took him two hours to get there in his current state, but he knew it was worth the pain.

      Riddle hadn't put a bullet through his brain, and that had been his mistake. But, with Kreacher as witness, Regulus stood a chance of starting fresh somewhere new. His only regret was that, as Sirius hadn't done for him, he could not rescue Kreacher. Maybe someday…but not now. And that part of him he despised, because now he finally understood his brother's actions—or lack thereof.

      He could barely open the complex's doors. Once he did, he dragged himself to the bottom step and sat there. God, it hurt to move. Maybe he could nap first. Maybe he could collect his energy before he saw Gideon. He could wash up, make it look not so bad… Then Gideon wouldn't fret so, he knew Gideon would…

      Regulus closed his eyes and rested his head against the banister. He'd just begun to doze off when he sensed someone else.

      "Reg…? Oh, my god, Regulus! Regulus!"

      Shit. Goddamn it, Gideon. Such perfect timing… Regulus struggled to sit up and grin. "'S okay. 'M fine…," he slurred.

      "Regulus! Christ, your head. My god, where have you been?! Your head's bashed in! Oh, my god, Regulus, there's so much blood—!" He could hear the sobs in Gideon's voice.

      "Mm… Hey…you know my plans to leave? Let's have a change of scenery…"

      "What do you mean?! We can't leave, we're going to a hospital, right now! Regulus!" His tone was too heartfelt.

      "No…let's just leave…"

      "What if those people, whoever they are, come after you? They'll come after you as soon as they find out you're still alive—"

      "They won't… They won't find out…and my family doesn't care." Regulus smiled, dazed. "My brother…stopped talking to me a long time ago…and my parents will be glad to hear of my 'death' once Riddle tells them I betrayed him… Oops…" Regulus barely had his wits about him as he realized he'd told Gideon too much.

      But the name "Riddle" meant nothing to Gideon—of course it wouldn't, when the public didn't know that name. "But—"

      Regulus squinted up at Gideon, trying to focus on his face, though it was hard to do when it was so blurry. Regulus' smile was weak. "I hear…Scotland's lovely this time of year, Gid…"

      "Regulus…!"

      Regulus reached up and patted Gideon's cheek, only vaguely aware of the irony of it being his own blood on his hands this time.

      Gideon leaned down, crying, and kissed him. It was a kiss with a promise, the promise that maybe Gideon agreed that it was time for them to start anew, somewhere fresh, someplace they'd start their own journey, safely away from this all…from this mess they'd called life up until this point…

WHOOPS. Cliffhanger. ;P But I kind of wanted to do something similar as I did with "broken bones to bemoan"—kind of open-ended…dangerously so. Is Reg alive? Isn't he? I liked the parallels with canon (even Edgar, who didn't die in '79, so I just had him tortured), though writing this AU of Voldemort's gang was just…wow. And Regideon. Wow. I like to think that Gideon got him medical attention and then they did flee to Scotland, but that's just one interpretation. MAN. The violence…I don't normally write violence, but this… Don't do drugs or commit crime, people! *hence the M rating* Also, I think Placebo is the only band to write Regideon to, man… Funnily enough, this was inspired by their song, "I Do," which is a very hopeful song, and thus befitting of this story… (The title is a line from the song.) Just wow. *still in shock* Hope you liked this, Morghen! ;] Not bad for a nonmagical AU, eh?

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

2017 note: :') Deffo still one of (if not the) most violent things I've ever written to date, and this fic is 2 yrs old at this point. :O That said, a lot of this is a decent translation of Voldy's doings and believers for a nonmagical AU, I think. I just—I feel for Reg in this, so, so much. And Gideon, knowing about his childhood and sticking by Reg in the end, giving him the time and space to leave his "bad situation." In my heart of hearts, I like to think that they're all right past the ending here (same as the Marauders in "broken bones to bemoan"), but…at the same time, as with the other story, I can't realistically see it ending well. I just. ARGH. It feels great to have written something this dark, but it still really fucking hurts, man. ;w;

[camelliacats]

The Hard Life

Another random oneshot.

Fic: "The Hard Life" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: established!Regulus Arcturus Black/Gideon Prewett

Rating: K+

Words: ~3,030

Additional info: romance, slash, fluff, AU fic, Marauder era, 3rd person POV

Summary: These days Regulus is a hero, Gideon is a bit of an antagonist, and family is a craft...as in, it's totally makeshift. A happy Regulus story, which is possible. Seriously!

            Regulus turned up the collar of his cloak as the gentle rain came down a little more urgently. "Can't we go home yet?"

            "I just asked for a little walk outside, Reg," Gideon breathed, sighing dramatically. "You're such a coach potato, you know."

            "Hey, I'm active!"

            "Correction—you were active. That was five years ago. You played Quidditch."

            "And you know what? I could still wipe the floor with you, Prewett, seeing as you still don't like flying, even five years later." Regulus tried not to sound too harsh. He knew it was still something of a sore point with his lover. Even as teens, Regulus hadn't been able to help Gideon much, hadn't taught him much by way of learning to fly properly.

            Gideon shrugged. "Whatever. That's beside the point, luv. I…" He slipped his hand into Regulus' pocket, entwining their fingers. "I just like seeing you in daylight, I suppose. Consider it a fetish."

            Regulus gave him a long look but didn't smile. "Gideon…it's completely overcast today."

            Yet, despite the remark, Gideon laughed as if he'd been found out but hadn't a care in the world. "So it is! So sue me. Don't you like the smell of the rain during autumn?"

            Honestly, Regulus wasn't sure. The rain often dredged up unpleasant memories for him. The most recent one was probably that yet another letter he'd sent to his brother, Sirius, had been sent back. It didn't seem to matter that time had passed or that Regulus had weakened the Dark Lord to the point where a child protected by his mother's love had defeated him or that Regulus had gotten word to Sirius and Lupin through Gideon that Pettigrew was a traitor. It didn't matter that Sirius and Lupin were raising their godson.

            Somehow, Regulus was certain, Sirius would always hold Regulus accountable for the one thing he couldn't've fixed: He had not been able to save James and Lily Potter.

            Regulus shook his head. He had to stop thinking about his current issues. After all, the rain didn't remind him only of those. It also reminded him of his suicide mission to the cave with Kreacher and how the house-elf had freaked out and gone against his own judgment to bring Gideon to Regulus and how Regulus had been taken to Dumbledore and Snape and somehow—somehow—been saved. Then again, the rain also reminded him of his last Hogwarts years and growing close to Gideon and stealing kisses on muddy school grounds while trying to get Gideon to fly. Granted, the rain also recalled the dreary dampness that permanently clung to Twelve Grimmauld Place, but, as Regulus didn't live there anymore and wasn't even welcome (Mother and Father were gone, thankfully, but Sirius lived there now), Regulus decided to think positively about the precipitation. So he fixed his gaze once more on Gideon.

            "What? Something on my face?" The redhead ran a hand over his face just to check.

            Though he could recall a time when he never would've interacted with someone like Gideon or even have responded to him, Regulus smiled easily and shook his head. He squeezed Gideon's hand in his pocket. "No. You're fine."

            Gideon pouted. "Just fine? Well, that's a bit unfair."

            True. Regulus was teasing him. Gideon always looked better than "fine." Even now, when the rest of the world looked gray, Gideon's hair was as red as the light of a spell, and his blue eyes seemed to pop defiantly in the colorless view. Gideon made the rain…pleasant.

            Or so Regulus thought.

            His nose caught the scent of something strange, and the Black brother held the cuff of the sleeve of his free hand up to his nose. "Sweet Salazar… Gideon, do you smell that? That's awful!"

            Gideon sniffed and looked around. "Well, I s'pose it can't be helped, when it rains… And we are walking in the city, too…"

            "Why? What is it?"

            The older man gave him a surprised look. "You never…? In all our years at Hogwarts, you never once encountered this smell?"

            Regulus furrowed his brow. "No. What? Should I have?"

            The Gryffindor looked around a moment more and then pointed behind Regulus. He turned him around in that direction and pointed again. "It's probably somewhere in there. Let's go check it out," he said suddenly, delight in his tone.

            "…no."

            "Reg, just—"

            "I'm not going anywhere near that alley. It smells as if a Stink Bomb went off in there."

            "Well, there's too much clutter for me to go."

            Regulus gave Gideon a long look and gritted his teeth. He looked the other man up and down, ignoring the grin that appeared on his freckled face. Bollocks. Gideon had always been taller than him, and, despite not playing a sport like Quidditch, he was a cross between lanky and his sister, Molly's, stockiness. The alleyway definitely was too narrow for Gideon even to stick his big head in. And, unfortunately, Gideon had long ago managed to convince Regulus that he was the only one Regulus would do anything to please. Stupid thing called love. It always got Regulus into such messes.

            "Please check it out for me, Reg?"

            The smaller man groaned. He didn't even have to catch those blue eyes. All he had to do was hear the request in his voice. "…all right. But if I come out of there smelling like garbage, you wait on me hand and foot tonight, you cheeky bastard."

            Gideon's grin turned into a smirk, and Regulus had to look away. Sometimes Gideon was more Slytherin than Regulus….

            It was indeed a tight fit in the alley because of the Dumpsters lined on both sides and the bags of refuse spilling out all around them. Regulus took an even more cautious second step in, holding his breath as best he could. When something squished underneath his foot, he willed himself not to look down. Inferi trying to drag him to a watery grave, he could handle. Having possibly stepped in shit…he didn't even want to think about it.

            It turned out that he couldn't hold his breath for long, so he tried casting a Bubble Head Charm. Ah. Much better, so long as no Muggle came their way. Plus, it blocked out the horrid stench from earlier. In fact, Regulus wasn't even sure what he was looking for, now that his mind and olfactory system had been cleared. He poked and prodded a few things with his wand, lit at the tip with Lumos, but he found nothing of worth.

            Regulus turned to call back to Gideon that there was nothing and that Gideon would have to pay up—but then movement out of the corner of his left eye caught his attention. The movement became a rustling, and then a furry head popped up between two bags of garbage.

            It was a kitten. And it mewed pitifully.

            Now, at this point in time, Regulus would've loved to handle it all manly and suavely. He'd been born into a damn near ancient bloodline and spoon-fed dignity before he'd even nursed. He'd also grown up in a world full of cats, owls, and toads, so it shouldn't have come as such a shock to him. He'd also learned how to act cool by watching his big brother from the time they were little.

            Instead, Regulus gingerly reached out, patted the appreciative creature, picked it up by the scruff, and tucked it into his jacket. He turned around and pushed past Gideon out of the exit.

            "We're keeping it."

            Gideon gave him an odd look. "Keeping what…?"

            Regulus felt his cheeks grow warm under Gideon's scrutiny as he flashed the prize in his coat pocket. "That. Now, let's go home."

            Truthfully, if Regulus had been thinking right, he wouldn't've come home this way.

            But he hadn't been thinking right. He was so focused on cleaning up the kitten that it hadn't even occurred to him the ramifications if he Splinched himself with a cat. Good Merlin… A wizard–cat hybrid—now that would've been scary.

            He also hadn't explained anything to Gideon, but he knew Gideon would understand. After all Regulus had done before he'd atoned for his sins… Regulus treasured life now, even life that wasn't his.

            Gideon knocked on the bathroom's doorjamb at their place. "Hey. Brought you some coffee."

            The coffee smelled wonderful at this point, since Regulus and the kitten had just had the longest bath of their lives. But at least no one smelled like waste anymore. Regulus took the cup and gulped it down.

            "Whoa, slow down, Reg. What's the rush for?"

            "Well, we brought it home. But we have to figure out how to take care of it—her," he emphasized with a shake of his head.

            Gideon raised a curious eyebrow. "That's only just occurring to you now?"

            "I don't know. I acted on impulse."

            The other man sighed and chuckled. "You know…there was a time when you would've planned every moment of your life carefully."

            Regulus sulked. "So?"

            "Oh, I'm not objecting. I just like how you can still be a tad childish sometimes. The little prince." There was a gleam in his eye, and Regulus scoffed and rolled his own eyes. Hand it to Gideon to make a pun about Regulus' name at a time like this.

            The couple moved to the living room, where they sat on the couch with the kitten between them, balanced on the top of a mountain made from her towel, looking like a king. Regulus frowned as the kitten mewled at them both and batted Regulus' hand. "…you're right. I wasn't thinking. I didn't even ask you."

            Gideon shrugged and sipped at his tea. "It's our home, Reg. Not yours, not mine. Ours. You really didn't have to ask."

            "But you've never really seemed interested in a pet."

            "That's 'cause Fabian and I had a toad before school. Let's just say Mum didn't let us have another. But Molly and Arthur have a cat for their kids, and she seems nice."

            "I've never had a pet…but we're not kids, either." Regulus' frown deepened as regret moved into his heart. He'd cleaned the precious beast up, like making a promise that she'd have a new home. But now…it didn't seem like such a good idea.

            Without looking, Regulus knew Gideon was observing him (just as he'd always done, the perceptive git). "…how about this? We can give her a trial run. Care for her and such. If it doesn't work out, we can turn her over to one of those Muggle shelters. Or maybe have the clerk at Eeylops check her out and see if she's magically inclined and might make a nice familiar for someone. Or I could ask around. Maybe Molly's cat wouldn't mind a friend. Or Fabian—" Gideon stopped. "Well, Fabian could use the company," he finished quietly, not mentioning the loss of Dorcas, though Regulus felt for Gideon, knowing his twin likely never would recover from losing the love of his life during the war.

            "I repeat, we're not kids," Regulus muttered.

            But Gideon smiled. "So maybe we've just had one?"

            Regulus bit his lip and stared at the kitten, stroking her head and refusing to let Gideon see how red his face had become. Gideon could be so infuriatingly charming sometimes….

          The first night was lovely, albeit uncomfortable. Regulus had demanded they sleep out in the living room with the kitten—they still hadn't a name for her—in order to accustom her to their home. Of course, that ended with Regulus and Gideon squeezing onto the couch, stretched out along it, with the kitten in her towel near their heads.

          When the next day arrived, Regulus stayed home and played with her while Gideon went out for supplies. "Cats have got to have milk," Gideon had stated.

          "We don't know how old she is. Couldn't she be on solid foods yet?" Regulus had asked.

          "Nah. She looks about a month or so along. She'll still be on milk."

          Of course, Regulus hadn't taken that to mean that Gideon would return with two bags of supplies, most of which seemed to be bottles of the white liquid.

          "What on Earth did you get?" the snake asked him.

          Gideon's face was flushed with excitement. "Oh, it was brilliant! I went to Eeylops, and they had nothing for raising kittens—that's 'cause they only sell adult animals, apparently—so I went to one of those Muggle grocery market things and went to buy milk. It turns out they have a whole aisle dedicated to pets, did you know that? They've got things like toys and food—even litter for cats."

          "Litter?"

          "Yeah. Apparently some Muggles like keeping them indoors, so the litter's for a kitty loo."

          Regulus made a face. "That's ridiculous. Cats are meant to roam."

          "That's what I thought. But I described the kitten to some old woman who was buying her own supplies, and she directed me to—of all places—the baby aisle."

          At that, Regulus took a step back. "Ah…Gideon, in case you haven't noticed… We're both men, and that's a cat…"

          "Hush, silly! No, young cats are bottle-fed if they haven't a mother." He produced a quart of milk and a baby bottle. "So here you go."

          "I'm not bottle-feeding a cat, Gid. I'd rather call Cousin Narcissa an ugly beast in front of Lucius."

          "Well, I don't know how to do it." Gideon frowned. "I'm the baby in my family."

          "And so am I!"

          Gideon skimmed the directions on the bottle's label. "Hmm. We have to wash this first. And it says milk should be served warm…hmm."

          Regulus went through the rest of the items. He seized the brush. "While you're doing that, I'll be with the kitten."

          "Hey, no fair! Regulus…!"

          Gideon managed to put things away and clean several of the goods before attempting to feed the kitten. He warmed the milk with a cautious hand and a Heating Charm and then filled the bottle.

          However, time flew by while the men tried to get the kitten to eat.

          "Reg, hold her still," Gideon grumbled for the umpteenth time.

          "It's not my fault," Regulus replied as the kitten continually rejected the idea of having the bottle shoved in her face. He sighed as she climbed out of his arms and jumped onto the floor, walking away and marking the furniture by rubbing against everything.

          The redhead grimaced. "She's a kitten, for crying out loud. We're two adult men. It can't be this hard looking after her."

          Regulus shrugged. He glanced around the furniture, searching for the cinnamon-striped brown tail…and not finding it. He stood up. "Bloody hell… Gideon. I don't see her. Do you?"

          And thus began an evening of unwilling hide-and-seek played with a kitten that was yet to be house-trained.

          (It was all right in the end. Regulus eventually found her by her towel in the bathroom, and Gideon got a good grip on her and finally got her to drink the milk, even though it was three in the morning.)

        The next few days were like a repeat of the first feeding. When the kitten wasn't playing, she preferred to roam the cottage and make Regulus and Gideon go on a mad scavenger hunt for her. Half the time, Gideon fell asleep with her in his arms because they'd been up all night. Sometimes meals even seemed to escape the men, and Gideon took to rummaging through the cupboards.

        "We should go shopping soon," Gideon bemoaned. "We've only worried about feeding her," he said, slightly annoyed, as Regulus scratched behind her ears while she strutted along the countertop. "And, Reg, get her off the counter!"

        Regulus did nothing, though, because the kitten always refused to listen, and he hadn't it in him to train her otherwise. Besides, it didn't really bother Gideon all that much. If it did, Gideon would've been more adamant with Regulus and the kitten both. And, when Regulus caught Gideon making faces at the kitten and teasing her to get her to play with him, Regulus knew they'd never get on Gideon's bad side.

        "But we have to remember to feed ourselves," the redhead murmured once he finally restocked. "Cheese, bread, gillywater, cold pumpkin pie, butterbeer…"

        The raven-haired man gave his love a look. "So no ingredients to make anything nice for us?" Regulus was a little let down.

        Gideon shook his head. "No, I thought of something, hence the basil, tomatoes, pasta."

        "You're going to cook?"

        "I'm no gourmand, but even I can manage, Reg."

        So Regulus grew quiet and let Gideon get to work. He liked watching Gideon spread out in the kitchen, cooking for them. He even made sure he and the kitten didn't interfere much, but it was a little hard when she insisted on sniffing the various herbs.

        "Don't let her eat the basil, Reg!" Gideon scolded.

        "Then move it out of reach." Regulus paused. "Hey."

        "What?" the other wizard asked, disgruntled.

        "How about naming her 'Basil'?"

        Wholly expecting another reprimand, Regulus was surprised when Gideon barked out a laugh. "Oh, good Godric…! Really?"

        Regulus glared at his back. "Well, why not?"

        Gideon shook his head. "Sometimes, I love how transparent you can be."

        "I sense I was made fun of."

        "No, luv, just appreciated." Gideon glanced over his shoulder. "Reg?"

        "Yeah?" The shorter wizard sighed and picked Basil up in his arms.

        "We're definitely keeping her."

        Their eyes met, and each held the gaze for a full minute. Then Gideon returned his attention to making their meal, and Regulus released a slow but content sigh as butterflies twirled in his stomach. He ignored them, however, and went and teased Gideon by placing Basil on his shoulders, as though he had to give the cat a piggy-back ride while cooking.

        Yes, they were going to keep Basil. And maybe Gideon had been right before, too—maybe they had had a child, and maybe they'd learn to do things on the fly. And maybe Regulus would make some new, even better memories of the rain to replace the rest of the bad ones.

So yeah. Firstly, I wanna say that there are quite a few pieces of this story that come from/are inspired by Morghen's awesome oneshot, "we will be the last ones standing." The Regideon pairing aside, her fic is still one of my most favorite fanfics ever (which is saying a lot, 'cuz I've written and read a lot in my almost ten years on the site). I still reread it from time to time, tearing up every single bloody time… GAH. Too many feels. Hence the happy oneshot. ;P I really like characters as fathers—even if only to a kitty. X3 Ah, and Basil is Mor's OC, too, I should note. Happy birthday, twin. I hope you have a year full of fluffy moments of your own, hon! *huggles*

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

2017 note: Ah, yes. An alternative future to "we will be the last ones standing." :') Regideon's so sweet together, and it's lovely for them to be able to share this with Basil the kitten. =w= I think it'd be nice to have Regideon and Remmius/Wolfstar meet at some point, since this AU has Reg living and Sirius not in Azkaban so he and Remus can raise Harry… GAH. I just. I love them all, esp being able to be parents. I'm delighted to know there were very few edits to make, coming back to this fic 3 yrs later. :3

[le-amewzing]

Okay, so some more art from early last year, but dude. My twin-by-spirit, Morghen, is in love with Regulus (as I am in love with Sirius). So I've drawn her some Regs before and drew some Regideons this time around, too. Regideon is the ship Regulus/Gideon (as in Gideon Prewett, one of Molly Weasley's bros), and this pairing is too damn precious. Mor's fic for them, "we will be the last ones standing," remains one of my all-time favorite stories...just of anything. It's just such a good story. *happy sigh*

The only sad thing is that these pics were bookmarks I made for her as late Xmas/bday pressies, so I no longer own the originals. ;P

Materials: Prismacolor illustration pens (various sizes in black), Copic multiliner (0.05 in wine), Copic markers, Prismacolor markers, Marvy Le Pen pens, and orange and white Milky pens.

Sorry for the poor scan quality. .___.

EDIT: This pic is now on my pillowfort! :3

[camelliacats]

Swapped Futures

Another random oneshot.

Fic: "Swapped Futures" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: established!Regulus Arcturus Black/Gideon Prewett

Rating: K+

Words: ~1,190

Additional info: romance, slash, family, angst, AU fic, Marauder era, 3rd person POV

Summary: A life in hiding is not easy, but it will do for now.

               He shut the door behind him. "Fabian's pissed."

               Regulus Black's granite-colored eyes slid across the living room to the other wizard. "When isn't he?" Regulus asked.

               Gideon Prewett ran a hand through his red hair as he closed his blue eyes. "You're right. I hate to say it since he's my twin, but you're right." He looked at his lover. "You're always right," Gideon said softly.

               The Black brother looked away and picked up Basil, their cat. "I don't mean to be or want to be…"

               "No, no…" Gideon sighed and shucked his coat. Then he went over to Regulus, reached over, and stroked Basil. She purred happily. "He always finds something to be upset about, these days."

               "What's today's hot button?"

               "…Dorcas."

               Regulus nodded and said nothing. Often Fabian was upset about Dorcas Meadowes, and Regulus didn't blame him. Regulus had known Gideon intimately for about five years—or was it now six?—and so he'd come to know Fabian by association. He and Fabian didn't get along well, but he reckoned he was in better standing now that most people believed Regulus to be dead.

               But that was not the truth. Regulus had learned of Voldemort's secret use of Horcruxes and had found one—but he could not destroy it. He had no idea how to do so. So he'd escaped the cave where it was hidden and had gone to Gideon for help. They in turn had gone to Dumbledore, despite Regulus' fears of retribution…and Dumbledore had saved him. Granted, it meant he was in hiding, but, in return for giving Dumbledore the Horcrux to figure out its destruction, he was able to live with Gideon. Simply, that was all he wanted.

               "But, for our purposes, no one else may know," the aged wizard had told them.

               So, while Regulus and Gideon holed up, they watched Gideon's friends be picked off one by one. There was a scare with Fabian and Gideon, but it put them in hiding, too. Now only Fabian knew, and Regulus figured part of Fabian's anger was pure jealousy. Dorcas had been the love of the older twin, and he'd been set on marrying her after the war. That could no longer happen, and only Gideon was happy. It was salt in an old wound: Fabian had never liked Regulus to begin with, and now Regulus had been granted the life which Fabian likely believed only Dorcas deserved.

               But it didn't mean things were easy for Regulus, either. …no, he'd not venture there today.

               "What do you want to do today?" Gideon murmured.

               Regulus gave it some thought. "Read a Prophet."

               The redhead laughed darkly and shook his head. "Not going to happen."

               "I won't read the names, promise."

               Gideon frowned. "Regulus… It's not a good idea."

               His voice wavered, which only worried Regulus. "Gid…what's in the paper today?" They barely had any contact with the outside world, especially Regulus. For all he knew, his brother was dead. And, yes, it had taken Regulus a long time to understand his brother's viewpoint and to begin to embrace it, but a brother was still a brother. He still loved Sirius, no matter what negative things he'd said before. Those simply had been the words of an angry child with no idea of social politics.

               Finally he realized Gideon's eyes were red. Oh. Why hadn't he noticed before? Something really was wrong… "Reg…"

               The older man sat on the arm of the couch and wrapped his right arm around Regulus' shoulders. Then the other arm came up and wrapped around him, too. At last, Gideon's face burrowed into Regulus' mass of jet curls. And Regulus felt the hot tears on his scalp.

               "The Potters…" He breathed hard. "They're dead."

               The younger Black didn't know what to do with the information. He'd known Potter to be an indecent person at times, but Evans had seemed all right. And he knew they'd had a child—it was why Voldemort had gone after them and after the Longbottoms…

               "Only Harry survived. He's an orphan now…"

               Regulus shook his head in disbelief. "But my brother—" The words died on his tongue as Gideon stared at him long and hard.

               "I know I told you they made Sirius his godfather, but…Harry can't go with him, Reg."

               "But…why?"

               "Sirius… Sirius did it. He revealed their whereabouts."

               Regulus' ears rang. How could this be? It didn't make sense! "That's ridiculous—I was the one on the Dark side! And I changed sides! There are no Black brothers working for You-Know-Who!"

               Gideon shook his head. "Fabian said something to Dumbledore, who already had been suspicious. If you could come to us, then Sirius could have gone to…him."

               Regulus grimaced and pulled away from Gideon. "That's utterly stupid. Potter was—" He swallowed. "He was closer to my brother than even I was." An idea popped into his head, and he looked back at the redhead. "Wait—what about Lupin? He and my brother were thicker than thieves—I'm sure of it. Lupin can alibi him."

               "Reg…"

               "Don't 'Reg' me! Go on! Tell that beaten hat of a wizard that Lupin was my brother's lover. Anyone would have to be an idiot to deny it. And Lupin can vouch for him—Sirius would never embrace that which he hated."

               "And you're the same?" Gideon dragged a hand over his face. "Regulus, people switch sides without telling anyone. It happens. And…and, besides, Lupin was holed up on another mission elsewhere." His face was pale. "Peter apparently yelled that Sirius betrayed James and Lily before Sirius blew him and twelve Muggles up."

               The news was worse than drinking the basin full of poison to get Voldemort's locket. Two Marauders, betrayed by another? "…no."

               "They say he snapped."

               "No."

               "I'm only telling you what I heard, Regulus."

               But this was not how it was supposed to go. Sirius was meant to have a happy ending. Sirius was meant to live peacefully with Lupin and grow old with him and Potter and Evans. He was supposed to be the doting uncle that Regulus knew he would've been with the Potter kid. Sirius was supposed to be mourning the loss of a brother who'd never actually betrayed him.

               Now Regulus was supposed to live out his days knowing that everything was wrong and hoping that maybe someday Voldemort would be killed—

               He looked to Gideon.

               "Voldemort's gone…it seems." His grin was so fake, it was painful. "Harry survived miraculously. A baby defeated the Dark Lord."

               Again, it didn't make sense. Regulus was not supposed to have this life, much as he loved Gideon. He was not supposed to have Gideon. He was not supposed to be happy.

               Harry Potter was meant to grow up with two stupid parents, and Sirius was meant not to rot in Azkaban but to spoil his godson and Remus Lupin for the rest of their lives.

               Gideon looked at Regulus. He brushed some hair out of the smaller man's face and bent forward, giving him a kiss full of pain and hurt and sorrow.

               Regulus tasted all of it. It was too heavy a price for happiness.

URGH. Regideon, like, refuses to be anything but angsty… :/ I almost wanna continue this, but maybe sometime in the future. It'd be interesting to see what would've happened had Reg, Gid, and Fab survived… And if things would've been different had more than just Gid and Fab known Reg was alive… :O HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY, MORGHEN! *twin snuggles*

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

2017 note: Honestly, some of my most interesting AUs occur when I write the Black family (specifically the brothers). I just… *sigh* I think I wanted canon to be so different, that I wrote this… ;w; Tbh, I think I said enough in my 2013 A/N, but also, the last sentence of the fic… Dx

[camelliacats]

Landmark

Another random drabble, written for a friend's bday.

Fic: "Landmark" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: established!Regulus Arcturus Black/Gideon Prewett

Rating: light T

Words: ~680

Additional info: romance, slash, angst, Maydayverse, Marauder era, 3rd person POV

Summary: There were many places to meet, but one stood out as special. It also happened to be Regulus' thinking spot.

               It wasn't even a place. It was just a thing. It was an inanimate object that couldn't be separated from its brothers and sisters that also lined the street. It looked just like everything else.

               But Regulus knew it was this pole, this lamppost. He'd been standing by it the first time he'd seen Gideon coming out of Zonko's, after their first trip of the year to Hogsmeade. No, they hadn't gone together the first time. And they hadn't gone together the second, either. But the second time was special, because it had been the moment when Regulus had realized that maybe friendship was not all that he wanted from Gideon Prewett.

               It was the lamppost facing out by the right corner of the Post Office. From there, one could look almost straight up High Street and see whatever he wanted without being spotted easily.

               All right, so the "not easily spotted" part was becoming a habit of Regulus'—it had to be, considering he'd figured out his future a long time ago—but Regulus liked to survey what he could. Sometimes he'd play a game of "Where's Gideon?" and try to spot his…friend (because "boyfriend" was such a strange term to him) before Gideon could spot him. Most of the time, he won.

               Then again, was it really winning? Regulus often pondered this whenever he waited for Gideon in Hogsmeade; sometimes he had more time on his hands than usual, with the couple of rare times in which they skived class and spirited themselves down there to the Wizarding village. Thinking about his question, Regulus frowned. And every time they came back to Hogsmeade and he'd be by the lamppost—their lamppost—he would frown. To an extent, it was bothersome that Regulus could get the drop on Gideon so easily. It was a little unnerving that Regulus was already so good at…at spying.

               Or, Regulus sometimes wondered, did Gideon let him spy on him? Sometimes Regulus got the feeling that Gideon knew too much for his own good, too much that Regulus would never comprehend. There was one untouchable part of Gideon, and Regulus knew it was a part very close to the part of the Prewett that was deeply concerned for Regulus. Gideon had once told him that he wasn't deeply concerned—it was that he just deeply cared for Regulus.

               Well, Regulus knew that much, at least. Gideon liked to prove that almost every time they stole into the shadows. Even now, in one of those countless moments where Regulus stood by the lamppost and spotted Gideon and Gideon saw him and came running… Even now was a time like that, where Gideon almost smashed into him, if it weren't for the redhead grabbing Regulus by the arm and twirling them into the shadows.

               It might've felt great, Gideon's hands warming his sides, his breath hot on Regulus' cheek, his mouth giving life to Regulus'. But a little detail niggled in the back of the Black son's mind, that, while the shadows were becoming almost as special as the pole and as their time in the school library…shadows just didn't suit Gideon.

               And some part of Regulus knew that, for the exact same reason, he didn't suit Gideon either.

               On the way back to the castle, they were silent, just like every other time. Regulus tried reveling in their bit of lusty mischief, and he figured Gideon was, too, as he was so quiet.

               "Next time…let's go somewhere where there's light for me to see you, Reg."

               …oh. So Gideon had known where Regulus' mind kept going. Regulus felt an indignant impulse to remark. "Oh? And where do you suggest, since everyone knows about us?" There was more snark in his tone than Regulus had meant. He knew that he was the only one really bothered about possibly being seen in public.

               "I think we should just stick to the lamp instead," Gideon said with a small smile.

               And, sometimes, that smile could make Regulus feel as though he were the only person in the world who did suit Gideon.

:') Okay, so this was a bit more angsty than intended, but it's a nice thought! This was also a kind of response to an old, sort of personal challenge between Mor and me… I told you I could be inspired by anything, hon! XD Lastly, this is set probably after Regideon spend their first Christmas at Hogwarts, but before Fabian discovers them. Er, if this could even be squeezed in there… Ah, well! ;D And HAPPY BIRHTDAY, MORGHIE!!!

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

2017 note: AHHHHH Regideon gives me life. Morghen's fic for them, "we will be the last ones standing," gives me life. Angsty fics that aren't wholly angsty give me life. 83 I just. Yeah. So happy there were barely any edits to make to this 2012 fic. =w=

[camelliacats]

Our family could’ve been bigger

Another random oneshot, done for a friend's bday.

Fic: "Our family could've been bigger" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: Bill Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Gideon Prewett/Regulus Arcturus Black, with cameos from Victoire Weasley & Dominique Weasley

Rating: K

Words: ~1,510

Additional info: romance, gen fic, slash, family, angst, Maydayverse, Marauder era, Next Gen era, 3rd person POV

Summary: When asked about their uncles by Bill's daughters, Bill and Charlie don't think of just Fabian and Gideon, because there was someone else, too.

               "Dad, what was it like when you were young?"

               Bill glanced over his newspaper and peered down at his two little daughters, Victoire and Dominique. It was interesting to him, them asking him such a question. When he thought about when he had been young, he thought of himself as a child not all that much younger than the girls' current ages of six and ten. He glanced over at his brother, Charlie, who pulled himself up from the floor after the girls had finished using him as a human jungle gym. "What do you mean?" the father asked.

               Victoire and Dominique exchanged a look, and Victoire looked between her father and uncle. "Well, we were wondering—we've got loads of aunts and uncles and cousins and all that. We know that you guys had cousins, too, but what about your uncles and aunts?"

               Charlie shook his head. "We never had many aunts. But we had plenty of uncles. Your Uncle Ron—his middle name comes from one of our uncles, Bilius."

               "What about your other uncles?" Dominique asked. "Weren't there two Grandmam Weasley knew?"

               Bill and Charlie glanced at each other again. "She didn't just know them, Dominique," Bill told his younger daughter. "They were her brothers—twins, in fact."

               "Like Uncle Fred and Uncle George," Victoire realized.

               He nodded. "Yes. Their names were Fabian and Gideon. They were a lot like Fred and George, though my brothers never really knew them." He smiled warmly. "They were great, though Uncle Gideon didn't let us get into as much trouble…er, mischief as Uncle Fabian would." Charlie chuckled. "Actually, the summer after they graduated from Hogwarts was probably the best summer we ever had when we were kids…" Bill looked at Charlie, and he knew the same memories were playing in his brother's mind.

               A memory that Bill recalled best was of the first time Gideon had taken them to a beach. Bill and Charlie had been seven and five at the time, so Bill knew he could recall more of it than Charlie could. It'd been a whole day of fun, full of swimming, laughing, playing, and just general fun. Gideon had been there, and Bill and Charlie—but not Fabian. No, instead someone else had been there.

               …Uncle Regulus.

               Even now, it was somewhat of an absurd thought. Harry had told only Ron and Hermione at first, but those who knew the truth about Regulus Arcturus Black had come to include Molly, Arthur, Bill, and Charlie, as well as Kingsley Shacklebolt and Minerva McGonagall. And, yet, only those few Weasleys would ever know the other truth about Regulus.

               Bill vaguely recalled the summer before Gideon and Fabian's last year of school. They had butted heads for once, something about Fabian being too much of a big brother towards Gideon. Bill hadn't thought much of it at the time; all he'd known back then was that he'd never lord it over his younger siblings (which had included only Charlie, Percy, and the twins then,) that he was the eldest. Still, Gideon and Fabian got along well, and Bill and his brothers awaited their uncles' return for the break that Christmas.

               It was such a surprise, then, when only Fabian came home. He acted as though nothing were wrong, but Bill sensed that Gideon should've come home with him. Molly hadn't said anything about it, but Bill had known even then how Fabian's mind worked; they were both big brothers, and Fabian had been concerned for Gideon. Why, Bill's young mind couldn't comprehend at the time.

               Bill had known Gideon had written to Molly somewhat often. Time had flown as letters arrived at their own pace, and then it felt so sudden, when Molly and Arthur had collected their children and paid a visit to Hogwarts. It was the time for Gideon and Fabian to graduate from Hogwarts. Things had felt bad between their uncles, but Bill had acted strong in front of Charlie; he couldn't show that he had been worried about their uncles, because he hadn't wanted Charlie to think that they might be the same way someday.

               Gideon had been sour that day, and Bill had asked his mother why that was. "I'll tell you when you're older, dear," a younger Molly had told her little boy.

               The next time he'd seen Gideon, his face had been so bright, Bill had thought it would hurt to look for too long.

               He'd wondered why Gideon was so happy. He'd just left school, hadn't he? He'd just left behind all of his friends. He'd probably never see them again or at least for a long while. So what could've made Uncle Gideon so stupidly happy?

               The answer to Bill's question had arrived one summer day, when Gideon had appeared, asking to take Bill and Charlie out. Molly had been more than happy, for she'd been on her feet all week. Bill and Charlie had left with Gideon.

               But they had returned to Gideon's flat for the night with Regulus in tow.

               Regulus had called himself Gideon's "friend." Bill hadn't known anything could be insinuated by such a word. Instead, young Bill had admired Regulus, for daring to have long hair, for daring to be a nice Slytherin, for daring to have fun with them (because, even as a child, Bill had been struck by the idea that Regulus was not accustomed to smiling so much or to having much fun). And, at the end of the day, a sleepy Charlie had ended up in Uncle Gideon's secure arms, and Bill had dared to take Regulus' hand.

               It had been a warm hand, a comforting, close one. Even if Regulus had called himself only Gideon's "friend," Bill had decided that he liked him. And he knew Charlie had, too.

               That summer, Bill and Charlie had spent more time than usual over at Gideon's place. Every time they had gone, Regulus had been there. He had been awkward towards them at first—Bill had suspected that Regulus wasn't used to company, let alone the company of children—but he'd warmed up quickly enough. Bill had thought it was his influence. He had always tried starting conversations with the Slytherin and had had luck. Regulus hadn't treated him like a little kid; he'd spoken to both Bill and Charlie as though they were on the same level as him and Gideon. It had made the boys feel good, and Bill had thought that Regulus…actually fit into their family.

               It'd made sense. Regulus and Gideon had almost never been without the other. Bill and Charlie had gotten along great with him. Bill had liked to draw pictures for Regulus, though he'd only ever gotten to give him one. And, and there had been naptime—Bill had loved curling up in the crook of Regulus' pale, frail arm with his little brother nearby. Bill had known that Gideon hadn't minded that at all, for Gideon had taken a photo of one such nap with a Muggle camera he'd gotten for his birthday from Molly.

               All too suddenly, that summer had ended. And, with it, the idea of an even larger family had disappeared from Bill's mind. When the summer had ended, Regulus had returned to school for his final year, and Uncle Gideon had slipped into a terrible funk, and nothing had felt quite right anymore. Playing with Gideon after that hadn't been as fun, not without Regulus—Uncle Reg—around, but that had turned out to suit Gideon, because he went off to do his own thing, and Bill had known so little.

               But, despite what he hadn't known then, he recalled the last time he'd seen Gideon and Fabian. They'd been arguing about something called "The Order," and Bill's mum had been crying and arguing with them.

               It wasn't long after that when Uncle Gid and Uncle Fab just didn't come around anymore.

               It wasn't much longer after that when Molly and Arthur had confessed to their children that their uncles weren't coming back.

               It wasn't very long after that when Bill had asked his parents if that had meant that Uncle Reg wasn't coming back either. Their silence had been answer enough.

               Still…though they were far away, almost out of reach, the memories from that part of his childhood were still prominent in Bill's adult mind. A part of him still longed for the good part of that summer, when their uncles had been alive and happy and there and family.

               Charlie coughed, picking up where Bill had left off. "It was a fun summer, girls, and we met our other uncle then, too."

               "Oh?" Victoire prompted, curious.

               "Yes. His name was Uncle Reg."

               "Wow!" Dominique said. "There really are a lot of Weasleys!"

               The wizards exchanged a look, definitely thinking of that time when ten-year-old Bill had told eight-year-old Charlie that he knew he'd once seen Uncle Gid kiss Uncle Reg in the same way that their parents did. Bill grinned sadly, as did Charlie. "Yes, Dom," Bill finally said, "I suppose there are."

:') I didn't know how this was going to end until the fic ended itself! :O But I think it's one of my better endings. Bittersweet, yes, but still…GAH! :'))) This is another one of my "missing moment" fics for Mor's "we will be the last ones standing," because I love filling in the blanks with what the other charries thought of Regideon. I remember *squee*'ing so badly when I beta'd the summer part mentioned with little Bill and Charlie, so I was so happy that I got to write this! X333 I hope you loved this fic, Mor—it's just for you! :')

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

2017 note: HA. BYE. *overwhelmed with feels* Um, so, this 2012 fic is another of my pairing-thru-another's-eyes stories, a type which I love to write, but this. This just shatters my heart to reread and edit it 5 yrs later (for minor typos/things). Picturing little Bill and Charlie getting along with Regideon like that just makes my heart hurt so bad, tho I'm so glad this is part of my overall headcanon. It just. It explains a lot. :') And if y'all haven't read Mor's fic yet—DO IT. It's still and will always forever be one of the best stories—not just fics—I've ever read. *happy sigh* :3c

[camelliacats]

in the land of make-believe

Another random oneshot.

Fic: "in the land of make-believe" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: established!Regulus Arcturus Black/Gideon Prewett & their cat :3

Rating: T

Words: ~1,670

Additional info: romance, slash, angst, fluff, Maydayverse, Marauder era, 2nd person POV

Summary: It was just a lazy night that meant nothing and everything to Regulus as he listened to the sound of Gideon's voice.

                On one of those hazy nights, one of those nights spent in Gideon's flat with Basil huffing in her kitten way as neither of you are energetic enough to play with her—it was on one of those nights when you pushed your day-mares and night-terrors about the end of the summer far out of your mind. There in Gideon's place, it was just you, Basil, Gideon, and the heat of a humid summer night.

                "It must be awful, wearing fur as she does," you said. You were on your stomach in bed, the thin sheet cooling the backs of your legs as your arm dipped down over the side of the bed and Basil batted at your splayed fingers.

                Gideon walked in from the bathroom and shut off the loo's and the hallway's lights. He smiled as his eyes adjusted to the darkness as yours had long ago (and you always have to remind yourself that it was the neutral kind of darkness you had meant, not the evil kind, not the kind that was going to ruin your life once you had left that beloved haven). "She'll be fine. She'll sleep in the shadows, or she'll sleep on top of one of us. I don't think it really bothers her."

                "Well, it bothers me," you said. The bed sank beside you as Gideon sat down and hovered over your back. It was funny; though you were hot, you couldn't turn Gideon away. He could heat you up or cool you down…he was always in sync with you.

                "No, I don't think it bothers you. I think I bother you," Gideon teased, leaving less and less space between his chest and your back as he sank down, down, down—but never letting your skins touch. When he heard your gasp, he chuckled. "Oh, hell, I really do get you hot and bothered."

                You rolled your eyes at his awful pun—Gideon really didn't know when to stop sometimes. Tuning out Basil's mews, you drew up your arm and rolled over so that your face was so close to Gideon's. Well, obviously you got him all "hot and bothered," as he'd put it, for the next thing you knew, his mouth covered yours before you even blinked, and suddenly the heat didn't matter anymore as he tossed the sheet aside and decided that no one needed pajamas on a night as humid as this.

                But it was just a brief moment of midnight madness, for Gideon tucked you into his arms shortly after, and his breathing evened as he rested his head on your pillow. His breaths reached your ears, and it was such a tranquil sound that you vowed never to forget it, no matter what happened in the future.

                "I'd like it if you 'bothered' me forever," you said abruptly, and you heard his brown lashes fluttering open. He hadn't really been asleep, though, not really.

                "Of course I'll bother you forever," Gideon muttered. As if to prove his point, he loosened one of his arms from your chest, drawing his hand down your stomach and painfully teasing you before letting his fingertips graze the skin of your hip and resting his hand there.

                "That's not what I meant, Gid."

                "I know, luv…" Gideon exhaled deeply, and it sounded like a sigh. But it wasn't, because you knew his sighs, and he had tried very hard not to sigh at all during your season-long stay at his new place. Perhaps he thought that his sighs would make your stay shorter…but nothing would have made your stay shorter, nothing.

                You frowned and turned your head into the crook of his shoulder. "Hey, Gid?"

                "Mmm?"

                "Tell me something good."

                He could have replied a million ways. He could've told you to shut up and sleep—albeit politely. He could've said no, told you he loved you, and said goodnight. He could've said that all right, then, Basil would grow ginormous and eat your parents and you'd never have to worry about desiring their acceptance or handling their issues ever again.

                Instead, you had to prompt him again. "Gid?" you prodded.

                "In a land far, far away…"

                "Gideon, what are you doing?"

                "Shh! I'm thinking on my feet here! Er, so to speak…" Gideon's fingers waltzed on your hip as he thought, and they came to grip your side as he settled on an idea. "I've got it. In a land far, far away…there was a princess as pretty as could be. Her name was Basil."

                You couldn't help it. You grinned.

                "Princess Basil ruled a fair kingdom, and she had her friend, the elite female spy Roussia, there to guide her. The two women were a shrew pair, but they had to be. Basil's daddy, the king, was in no state of mind to rule the kingdom, no state at all…" Gideon's voice trailed off a bit, and you jabbed your elbow in his stomach.

                "Hey, I'm wide awake now!"

                "Eh? Sorry, sorry…" Gideon sighed happily and continued. "Basil's father, King Gideon, had been lost for quite some time. See, he came from a whole line of royalty, and he had never met with much trouble before. But several years before Basil began to rule in his place, Gideon had been in love. His love was the most beautiful thing around, and, even though the two of them were from different classes, Gideon had made it work."

                "Oh? Was the king's queen beautiful?"

                "Who said the king couldn't have another king? Or a kind of prince?" Gideon nibbled your earlobe for your interruption, but, once you were done chuckling—he knew you were ticklish there—you insisted he resumed his tale. "But King Gideon was in love with a peasant man, Lad Regulus. And, though they were perfect together and the people of the kingdom accepted Lad Regulus as their king's mate and Basil loved her second father…all was not well in the kingdom. For Lad Regulus…he'd been taken from the king."

                An insect chirped in the middle of the night, and it didn't seem like a good idea anymore, getting a bedtime story. But, though you tried convincing yourself you were sleepy, Gideon suddenly seemed wide awake. And you could just feel his eyes boring holes into the back of your head.

                "Lad Regulus had indeed been stolen," Gideon restated, his voice soft and stern at once. "A dark lord from another country had had his eyes on Regulus' beauty and talents. And, though King Gideon had felt that something bad had been about to happen…the dark lord still managed to steal Lad Regulus from his lover."

                "Gideon…," you warned. Why had he done this? If Gideon had wanted to ruin things, he should have saved it all for the end of the summer when you'd part. Because you doubted you would ever see him again after this blissful time—unless you met to ki—to ki—ki— You couldn't even think the word, let alone the idea.

                "But here's the thing," Gideon whispered, his lips so very close to your ear that his breath scalded the surface of your cheek. "Despite the funk into which he'd fallen, the king knew he could leave the kingdom in Basil's and Roussia's capable paws…ah, hands. So King Gideon ventured out in search of Lad Regulus, and his adventure put Cinderella's, Sleeping Beauty's, and Snow White's princes all to shame."

                "Who're Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and Snow White?" you asked.

                "That's not the point," Gideon said, a little irritated at the interruption this time. "The point is that Gideon chased after Regulus and never gave up on him. He dueled many other skilled knights—like Malfoy and Lestrange. There was even a dragon called Bellatrix."

                Okay, at that you had to snicker.

                "Gideon even managed to defeat the Sorcerer Snape's evil schemes to fight the dark lord. And Gideon had never been so scared before in his entire life."

                "…what was the lord's name?" You winced as Gideon's arms around you tightened almost painfully; so, there was one thing that was definitely off-limits.

                "Gideon had never been so scared…but he'd never had such courage either. See, Lad Regulus had been everything to him. His mind, heart, body, and soul, and everything between. Regulus was his wits, his courage, his sanity…his life. Without Regulus, Gideon had no kingdom, for what was a kingdom without Regulus?

                And, then, the miraculous happened. Gideon came face-to-face with the dark lord. It was a clash to end all clashes, and all those who had suffered at the hands of the dark lord cheered the good king on—they went, 'yay!' and 'huzzah!' and 'gesundheit!' All right, so maybe they didn't say the last thing, but it was fairly spectacular when King Gideon vanquished that slimy git. And then you know what happened?"

                Gideon really waited for you to say, "No, what happened?"

                "Then King Gideon took Lad Regulus and shagged him right then and there, kissing his collar bone and sucking on his fingers and stroking something he hadn't touched in ages…"

                "Gideon! Basil's still in the room!"

                "So what? She's a cat, Reg." The redhead cleared his throat. "Anyway, the king was glad to have Lad Regulus back in his arms. And, when they returned, Basil kept the throne so that her fathers could live in peace like normal people. And…"

                Maybe it was the exhaustion tugging at you that egged you on, so you prompted, "And…?"

                "And they cuddled happily ever after," he finished, and upon completion he rested his chin on your head and wrapped his arms around your chest like chains binding you in that place. They probably could've kept you there if they'd been an Unbreakable Vow. But they weren't.

                "No one 'cuddles happily ever after,'" you corrected with a pout.

                Gideon sighed. "Fine then. They loved happily ever after." He kissed your head and all went quiet. But, just as you fell asleep, he added, "I promise."

Oops. This was meant to be pure fluff…but it got angsty…I blame Regulus! XP Things are always angsty with him! XPPP WAIT! I think I might be able to write Regulus fluff… *haz an idea* Oh, and please ignore Roussia, readers of Mor's oneshot; Roussia is an inside joke. ;] Oh, the puns! Since "Regulus" means "little king." :3 Please do read Morghen's oneshot, "we will be the last ones standing," tho, of which this is a companion. It is such an excellent story… Regideon needs more love!

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

2017 note: OH, MAN. I love Regideon so much, man… Mor's story rly is a worthwhile read, and it's actually a part of my overall headcanon, tbh. XD I love it (and Mor :3) so much. Damn good ship, damn good story, damn good writing. And who can say no to Regulus angst? ;Ps

[camelliacats]

the respite in the tension

Another random oneshot.

Fic: "the respite in the tension" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: established!Gideon Prewett/Regulus Arcturus Black

Rating: K+

Words: ~850

Additional info: romance, slash, fluff, Maydayverse, Marauder era, 3rd person POV

Summary: Sometimes Gideon thought Regulus took himself too seriously. Surely there's an ounce of mischief in both Black brothers?

"I'm coming up on infra-red There is no running that can hide you 'Cause I can see in the dark I'm coming up on infra-red Forget your running, I will find you"

—Placebo, "Infra-Red"

                Gideon yawned and leaned back in his chair. He and Regulus were studying again, in the library again, in their spot again. The thing was, Gideon had finished his work hours ago. And he was beginning to wonder if Regulus had done the same.

                "Hey, Reg…you done?"

                Regulus didn't respond. His eyes flew over page after page of some ancient-looking text even though he wasn't taking notes.

                Gideon sighed and rolled his eyes. He tipped his chair forward so that all four feet were back on the ground, and then he nudged Regulus' foot. "Regulus."

                "Hmm?" He finally appeared to have snapped his concentration. "What, Gid?"

                "Ah—" Gideon paused. Sometimes he forgot that Regulus' eyes…they had this habit of making Gideon's mouth go dry. Gideon sometimes wondered if he'd just been in the gray, stone castle for too long, or if he really loved those steel-colored irises that much. "Um, I was wondering…are you done yet?"

                The Slytherin dropped those eyes momentarily to the tome before him. "I suppose…" He finally picked his head up and looked at their surroundings. "Oh, Merlin, Madam Pince has already turned up the light of the lanterns? How late is it?"

                "Late," Gideon offered. "We'll be lucky enough to catch the tail end of dinner at this point."

                Regulus furrowed that dark brow and glared at the twin, and Gideon felt a tad victorious; though he hated the idea of Regulus being mad at him, Gideon couldn't help but admit how sexy that glare was. "Why didn't you say something sooner?" He scoffed as he collected his things. "It's not as though anyone from my House would think to spirit something away for me."

                The redhead frowned; he had forgotten about that since he himself knew Fabian would bring him something, even if it were just a pastry. "Sorry" was all Gideon could say.

                "Never mind," Regulus retorted in a curt manner. "Stay here while I return the books."

                "What? No, that's punishment," Gideon said, and he stood and snaked an arm around the smaller wizard's waist before he could escape. That was another thing—Regulus really couldn't punish Gideon that way, because Gideon was bigger, stronger, and he had no qualms about catching Regulus and never letting him get away. And Gideon would never let him get away, ever.

                Regulus made a noise in the back of his throat that was closer to a groan of annoyance than a moan of temptation. "I'm just asking you to part with me for five minutes."

                "No can do. I have separation anxiety," Gideon said, his eyes shining. Regulus couldn't leave him with his eyes shining, could he?

                But the younger Black brother smirked. "Then how about a friendly game of hide-and-seek?"

                "You gotta be joking… And you call me 'childish.'"

                "Is that no?"

                "It isn't a yes," Gideon grumbled.

                Regulus pushed him down into a chair and pecked his lips to get him to behave. "All right, then. Charm yourself so that you don't see or hear me leave and count to ten hippogriffs."

                "Count hippogriffs?"

                "It's something my brother did when we were little—now shut it," he added, sticking out his tongue.

                Gideon forced down his chuckle at Regulus' expense and did as Regulus asked after the Slytherin had left. Sure, Gideon wasn't perfect at Charms, but he'd watched Fabian perfect them over the years, so he supposed his spells weren't that bad. But, boy, was it hard to keep his eyes closed while he heard nothing go on around him.

                After ten hippogriffs had passed, Gideon undid the magic. However, he first thought that he'd screwed up the counter-spell, because the library still sounded awfully quiet. He stood and looked around; the books were gone from the table, though their bags were still there. Pince was nowhere in sight…but neither was Regulus. Gideon's pulse quickened for a second—but then he took a deep breath and cleared his mind.

                It wasn't as though he could sniff Regulus out, and Regulus was a Seeker—he was supposed to move lightly and swiftly, like a cat. The comparison briefly amused Gideon, but, as he passed aisles without searching them, his focus remained on Regulus himself.

                Gideon's feet moved on their own as he turned right, right, left, right, left, left—and Regulus gaped at him in astonishment as Gideon grinned and marched right up to him to seize those lips again.

                "Found you," the redhead breathed against the raven-haired male.

                "How—?" Regulus' question was caught in his throat. He appeared to be rather moved by Gideon's small feat.

                "I'd tell you, but then I'd have to curse you," Gideon jested, his hands resting comfortably in the small of Regulus' back. After all, how could he tell Regulus that he'd followed not even the trace of body heat Regulus had left in his wake…but the faint feeling of Regulus' presence? He couldn't explain that to his love; he could barely wrap his own mind around it. But, as Regulus smirked against his collarbone, Gideon felt he didn't have to explain anything at all.

SEE?? SEE??? IT'S POSSIBLE! FLUFF THAT INCLUDES REGULUS IS POSSIBLE!!! XDDD *iz quite proud of self* More importantly, fluff using Placebo lyrics is possible. ;DDD Yah, yah. Uh-huh, you got that right. But I think the fluff has to come from Gideon, really. *lol* Gosh, they are kyoot…

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

2017 note: GAH. I forgot how cute this 2012 fic was. XDDDD Morghen's story, "we will be the last ones standing," is just. All you need. To soothe your soul if you're a Regulus fan. And I love expanding on the universe she started with it, so…yeah. Regideon's way too cute, and I'm so glad I managed to pull this one off all those yrs ago. XD

[camelliacats]

sins of the father

Another oneshot, done for the weekly prompt (Marauders era ship) for @hprarepairnet.

Fic: "sins of the father" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: eventual!Regulus Arcturus Black/Gideon Prewett, Sirius Black, Marauders, Orion Black, & Walburga Black, with cameos from many others

Rating: T

Words: ~16,975

Additional info: romance, slash, family, violence, AU fic, sequentialprobably, Marauder era, 3rd person POV

Summary: There is an unmistakable quirk flowing in the veins of Orion Black. Naturally, his sons inherit it.

                Regulus grows up believing love is a word to be found in a dictionary.

                There is no love to be found in the house at Twelve Grimmauld Place and not much to be found in the Black family tree. Regulus has Sirius, of course, but Sirius never utters the word to him nor Regulus to Sirius. That's never bothered Regulus much. They're brothers—a bond that's spoken for, just unspoken, more evident as they grow up from being happily unknowing tykes to children and young adults with working mouths that get them in trouble with their parents more often than not.

                Regulus doesn't hate Sirius for being Sorted into Gryffindor last fall, although he keeps his opinions quietly to himself when Sirius comes home from his first year and the brothers Black listen to their mother railing at them day in and day out over the serious mistake the elder made at Hogwarts. Sirius doesn't make a pun of her screeches but instead silently implores his younger brother across the dinner table:

                "It is not a mistake to be yourself."

                Sage advice from a twelve-year-old wizard with passing marks in the simplest magicks, those of a first year. Regulus dwells on the repeated warning/plea in Sirius' eyes that summer, well knowing that he will face the first of his many Hogwarts trials in just over a month, because he'll be starting this year.

                He'll be starting at Hogwarts, a place away from here, a place with Sirius—

                —a place with lessons he believes Orion and Walburga Black incapable of teaching him.

                He succeeds yet fails his first trial: The Sorting.

                The moment the Sorting Hat shouts, "Slytherin," Regulus develops an upset stomach. He's equal parts relieved and disappointed, and he nearly trips on his way to the emerald-clad table, purposefully avoiding Sirius' searching gaze zeroed in on his back.

                Narcissa, currently a sixth year but still kind to her kin since he's just starting out, pats the spot on the bench beside her. On her one side is Malfoy, her future fiancé if the family gossip is true, but her other side is free as Bellatrix's brother-in-law, Rabastan, slides down with a shrug in reply to Narcissa's raised eyebrows.

                "Welcome to Slytherin House," Narcissa tells him while the Sorting continues. Regulus can see Malfoy's offended gape behind her head, given that the Head Boy or Girl tends to do the welcoming and she is neither, but Narcissa pointedly ignores him and smiles until she can coax one from her little cousin. "Welcome to your new home," she adds in a soft, friendly whisper.

                Perhaps more than being Sorted into the House of his family over his brother's, his stomach clenches as Regulus makes an involuntary connection. It's something of an instinctive reaction to the word "home," given all its personal and gruesome connotations for him. But then Regulus relaxes, because Narcissa is smarter than others give her credit for, because she has to have guessed if not heard how bad Twelve Grimmauld Place has come to be, and that is why she explicitly said "new."

                It's the first time he's had acceptance or approval from someone other than Sirius in a long, long time, and it makes it a little bit easier to swallow, the way his gray robes morph into emerald and silver.

                …nothing makes it easy to swallow the hurt Regulus feels when Sirius avoids him for a full two weeks, though, when classes officially start.

                Initially, Narcissa's platitudes were soothing, even as she tried to avoid calling Sirius a traitor outright. But now her words have dissolved into pitying glances before Malfoy or her friends steal her attention back.

                Regulus hasn't made any friends of his own yet. His prior connections to so many of the older Slytherins have set him apart from the other boys in his dormitory. At this point, Regulus thinks one of them is named "Runcorn," but he can't be certain and he can't be bothered to care much when they all keep to themselves.

                Regulus' forced solitude is broken in late September when he crosses paths with Sirius and his group near the Great Hall, shortly before dinner. Other students ebb and flow around them, and Potter and a few of the other blokes stare at Sirius without saying anything. But Sirius waves them off, and his friends meld into one larger group without him.

                Sirius approaches his brother, and they step off to the side, not quite in the shadow of the nearest door but still rather out of sight. Even in this half-light, Sirius' expression is ever-changing, flickering like the hall's candles. He's at war with himself over what to say, Regulus guesses correctly, so he starts their conversation himself.

                "I'm glad to be here at last."

                They're weak words…to anyone else's ear. To Sirius, Regulus conveys the relief he's had to tamp down around their family, and it melts the ice. Sirius' eyes rove over him instead, and he tousles Regulus' hair the same way he's done all these years. "Me, too," he agrees, and his voice cracks halfway with emotion, and Regulus believes him.

                They turn and enter the hall together, small but triumphant smiles on their faces because separate Houses can't break their bond. Sirius heads for the Gryffindor table automatically, but he pauses and looks over his shoulder at Regulus.

                "You could join us, if you want. I promise, no matter the dreck that comes out of James' mouth, he is worth knowing. As are the others."

                Regulus fidgets, debating the implications if he joins Sirius on occasion, if at all. It can be forgiven, can't it? Sirius is his big brother. Just because he's a lion, doesn't mean—

                He makes the mistake of catching attention from the Slytherin table. Malfoy childishly sneers at him. But Narcissa and Rabastan catch his eye; they're sitting across from each other today, and both sets of blue eyes are unblinking as they give subtle shakes of their heads.

                His heart sits low in his rumbling, unsettled stomach as he, too, shakes his head, and Regulus drops his eyes so he doesn't have to see Sirius' shoulders fall…which is little help, given that he can read his brother's defeated body language in his shadow. "Another time," Regulus promises, but it sounds like a fib to his ears.

                Sirius nods and says nothing more. He pats Regulus' shoulder, ushering him the tiniest bit towards the snake pit as he heads for the lion den.

                Regulus can feel the pout tugging the corners of his mouth down, but a few calming breaths allow him to slip on a mask, a familiar one from all the times he didn't want his parents to see their threats working to frighten him. Then he makes his way to the dinner table, beside Rabastan and across from Narcissa.

                He has nothing to contribute to the conversation because Rabastan and Narcissa are grumbling about what N.E.W.T.s they have to prep for right now well before their final year arrives. But during a lull in their chat, Rabastan bumps his elbow with Regulus' and offers him an approving smile.

                Regulus wonders. Rabastan is the younger of two brothers—maybe he's been through something like this, too? Maybe it's—it's normal. Maybe it gets better.

                "Maybe" is a word that snatches up all of Regulus' free time for the rest of his first year.

                By the time spring rolls around, Regulus is ready to be a second year, even though finals are still a few months away. He's kept himself busy with studies and random ponderings about the older students who treat him kindly even if out of pity, and he's let his mind stray a time or two to trying out for the Quidditch team next year, if he's earned that right having left no mark on the Black family name at all this year.

                The desire to play Quidditch for real and not simply gawk at the occasional game his father and (more regularly) his uncles took him and Sirius to becomes an itch in his feet, and Regulus smartly pulls himself from his books in the dungeons to breathe in the fresh air outside. Hogwarts is quite beautiful framed in vibrant, lively viridian.

                On his stroll through the halls, Regulus notes how the hubbub ahead of him has dimmed and come to dead silence. He picks his head up.

                There they are. All seven of the Gryffindor second-year boys. Hogwarts often averages five boys and five girls in each House each year, but some years are thin and others are full—like Sirius'. Regulus shares his dorm with only three boys, Runcorn included. It's actually made it quite easy to avoid his roommates thusly.

                But Sirius and his roommates can't be avoided when they're dead ahead. Regulus resists the temptation to search for accusatory eyes around him, but Sirius catches his brother's fear and scans the side courtyard with Potter and Lupin. He and Potter release an audible sigh Regulus can hear all the way down the open corridor, and then Sirius jogs to him, a few others trailing behind him and the rest lingering in place, curious to watch the upcoming exchange.

                "No one's breathing down our necks today," Sirius assures him upon approach. He holds one hand up, steady, as if calming a feral animal; it's a gesture that makes Regulus scowl. "Honest!" Sirius says, misinterpreting his annoyance as mistrust. "It's the last Hogsmeade trip before finals, so no one third year and up is around."

                Regulus blinks. Of course. No wonder it had been so easy to ghost through the castle today. Slightly emboldened, Regulus slips his bag off and nestles himself on the stone ledge of the cutout in the corridor wall, and Sirius joins him. "Never thought it'd get this empty," he quips, looking out at all the available space.

                "The wonder of Hogsmeade," Sirius says. He doesn't point out that, starting next year, he'll probably be one of those third years to flee the castle every time there's a trip. Regulus appreciates that.

                Behind Sirius is a cough. Potter stands nearby, Lupin just slightly further back.

                "Ah, right. Regulus, James," Sirius introduces. Potter nods, although he's got the confident stance of someone at least three years older. Sirius points to Lupin. "Regulus, Remus."

                Lupin's smile is soft, friendly, and weak-willed—Regulus would know, because it's the same smile he's caught in the mirror the last few years at home. "Did you want to join us?" Lupin asks, pulling Regulus from his analysis. He holds up a text.

                Sirius groans like a dog begging for food. "Moony, please…! It's too nice a day for studying…!"

                "No one's actually studying, anyway!" calls one of the redheads resting on a cutout further ahead. Said redhead crumples a ball of parchment in his hand, spells it red, and flings it through the circle a round boy makes with his fingers across the grass. Mini Quidditch, Regulus notes with some interest.

                "It's just for a bit anyway. The older students will be back in another hour or two," Potter clarifies.

                Regulus meets Potter's gaze. It's strong and indecipherable; he has yet to develop an opinion of Regulus, presumably at Sirius' insistence that the dinner table fiasco ought to be pardoned. But Regulus nods, somewhat thankful. If he isn't careful watching his time, Potter will. This awkward imbalance goes both ways, it seems.

                Regulus shoulders his bag, and Sirius' face lights up as he gets to his feet at the same time. Potter walks back to their group ahead of them, but Lupin waits and takes up the other spot at Sirius' side.

                Sirius points to everyone in turn, introducing them to Regulus. "Pete," he says of the portly Pettigrew who sits on the grass with his hands still shaped like a Quidditch post. A chubby but noticeably slimmer than Pettigrew boy with a slight overbite grins and nods to him as Sirius introduces him as Frank Longbottom. The redheads are identical twins—"Fabian and Gideon Prewett," Sirius announces proudly as he points from left to right at the boys sitting to Longbottom's right, making Regulus furrow his brow in confusion.

                "We only look identical, Sirius," Fabian points out with tired, half-lidded eyes. "We don't have the same personality, mate." He shrugs at Regulus.

                Gideon is kinder, offering up a polite wave not unlike Lupin. "Plus, I'm clearly the smar—"

                "You're not the smarter one! Our marks are the exact same!" Fabian snipes.

                It's not just that everyone else laughs, nor that Fabian turns as red as his hair. It's that Gideon looks so kind and then says something so infuriating nonchalantly.

                It's the first time since coming here that Regulus has felt the irresistible pull in his chest that is a laugh, and it nearly escapes him. He tamps it down until it's a smirk, but Potter and then Sirius catch it, and suddenly Regulus is the center of attention.

                Thank Merlin none of the idiots points it out, Regulus relaxing around them. Instead, they resume their antics as if absorbing Regulus into the group was expected. As Regulus is torn between reading around the ruckus—his original intention in coming outside today—and joining in the Quidditch talk, he takes Longbottom's seat on the cutout to Gideon's left and quietly watches the on-goings.

                He's eleven, not obtuse, but Regulus ignores the twins' open stares until Fabian gives up and cajoles the others alongside Potter, that a quick game of real Quidditch would cure them of their idle fidgeting. While Lupin gripes about not being in the mood for flying and Longbottom doubts his broom skills, Gideon stays put on the cutout, sitting up properly instead of slouching and turning towards Regulus a little.

                "You prefer the quiet, don't you?" Gideon guesses as Regulus watches the scene before him with mild interest.

                But, no, Gideon is wrong. Everything goes wrong when it's too quiet. Regulus sorely misses being a boisterous toddler, running after his big brother around the house and not worrying about the weight of the Black name.

                Gideon ignores Fabian when asked for his opinion about breaking into the broom shed if Sirius and Potter can guarantee Hooch won't be after them. He keeps his blue eyes on Regulus, waiting for an answer.

                "I hate it," the younger Black finally confesses, the three words barely a whisper.

                There's hooting and hollering in front of them, but Gideon hears Regulus' words, no doubt. That, or he can read lips. Either way, his eyes widen and his mouth opens just slightly.

                But Regulus gets to his feet just as Fabian and Lupin turn, wondering about the holdup, and any chances of Regulus' answer turning into a conversation vanish faster than the remaining food in the dining hall when it's bedtime.

                There are two months left of the year, and they fly by more pleasantly than Regulus would've thought last fall.

                He can't be seen with Sirius' entire lot…but one at a time, by chance, in the halls or not, is all right. Regulus doesn't have much to say to any of them aside from Sirius, and Sirius is the one he sees most often on the way between classes. Although Regulus is quick to realize his brother hadn't merely been talking up his friendships before now; where Sirius is, Potter and Lupin are likely to be nearby.

                On the train home, Sirius' compartment is full, so Regulus finds himself in one with Runcorn (he thinks) and the second-year snake Sirius' lot loves to gripe about, Severus Snape. Regulus has nothing to say to them, but Snape sits opposite, so Regulus surveys him.

                Snape keeps to himself in the dungeons and at meals, and Regulus would guess it has something to do with his friendship with that Evans girl in Gryffindor. Something about their friendship irks Regulus. How is it no one's warning Snape away from lion alliances? Is it that no one cares about Snape? Or is a misstep from the House of Black just that more important than some no-name half-blood's ill-advised bond?

                Regulus sits with his mouth cupped in his palm and fumes out the window until the train rolls into King's Cross Station. His jealousy flames out when he's able to reunite unashamed with his brother—

                —and their celebration is short when they spy their father in the crowd, waiting to drag them home.

                When their marks arrive, the tension in the house alleviates.

                "Perhaps you're not a waste," Walburga says with a dismissive look to Sirius.

                He doesn't flinch, but Regulus glances the clench of his brother's hands behind his back.

                "Regulus…good work," Walburga says to her youngest. "No less from what I'd expect of you."

                Shame and pride war inside his chest, both rushing to light his cheeks aflame. He knows they're comparing him to Sirius, which he hates. But he also worked long and hard, and it's nice to know his efforts paid off.

                Before he can realize his unfamiliar delight has pushed his hopes to spill out of his mouth, Regulus asks, "Mother, I was wondering—"

                The house stills. Orion is not home right now, but even Kreacher's slight noises in the kitchen stop. Regulus wonders if Sirius has stopped breathing beside him. Walburga's gray eyes alight on Regulus, waiting.

                "—there are House Quidditch teams, as you know, and I was…hoping…" He falters, seeing the lack of interest in her stare.

                How strange, to see a total lack where Sirius' friends had thought him an endless curiosity.

                Regulus catches himself, though. Though Orion and Walburga know their sons are weak, they don't like seeing it on display. So Regulus clears his throat. He will be twelve soon; he's more than halfway to being a man. "I am going to try out for Slytherin's team."

                The quiet lingers in the house. Walburga's letters—Sirius' and Regulus' marks—rest in her hand in her lap. Either she is impressed by his bold proclamation or she doesn't care enough to handle it. "…talk to your father." So it's the latter.

                When she leaves her sons, Regulus shares an incredulous look with Sirius and it's all they can do not to yelp in joy. It's the first time either of them has come close to getting something they wanted from their parents.

                They shuffle out of the sitting room and pass through the kitchen on their way to the backyard, Sirius pilfering tonight's dessert as a snack along the way and Regulus apologizing to Kreacher before he pulls the door shut behind them. Their backyard is a magically created one because townhouses don't go hand-in-hand with outdoor space, but it's big enough for the brothers to lounge about. Sometimes they sit on the back steps. Other times, like today, they tuck themselves into the far corner, half hidden amongst the shrubbery and wearing matching grins.

                "Did you see her face?!" Sirius hisses at him, delighted. "I thought she'd blanch, having to discuss Quidditch!"

                "Do you think Father will sign off on it?"

                Sirius purses his lips and breaks off part of the pastry, passing it to Regulus while he thinks. "If he's in a good mood. But sell yourself as a decent flier—didn't you tell me that Hooch commended you the most in your year? Quidditch means fame and accolades. And they're nothing if not esteem-hungry."

                Regulus' eyebrows lift. Sirius has always been a quick thinker on his feet, but he appreciates now more than ever to have his brother in his corner.

                "Oh, but watch out for James. He's planning to try out, too. Chaser," Sirius elaborates when Regulus leaves one eyebrow quirked. "You're still tiny, though—maybe you should go for Seeker?"

                "I'm not that small," Regulus chides him, and he looks to Sirius as his future. Sirius grew two whole inches by the end of the school year, and he's lanky. Regulus can see him being tall and handsome, and Regulus wants to be like him.

                Regulus lucks out. Sirius was right; catching Orion in a good humor was the key to selling him on Quidditch.

                Oftentimes if they can smell even the faintest whiff of firewhiskey on Orion, that's the signal to run and hide or face the back of his hand. But when Orion comes home, smelling of alcohol or not, with either Uncle Alphard or Uncle Cygnus—or both—in tow, that means he's in good spirits.

                The memory plays over and over in Regulus' head on the train back to Hogwarts in September. Orion and Alphard in the vestibule, Orion snickering because Cygnus cut out early after learning he'd bet on the wrong team and would have to scrounge up his debt to his brother-in-law. Orion had kept grinning at Alphard, who only ever rolled his eyes in return. But both pairs of eyes were on Regulus when he'd reiterated his tryout declaration to his father and emphasized how good a flier he was.

                Orion had barked out a laugh and muttered something to Alphard about placing future bets, which had earned him yet another eye-roll. But, drunk though he'd been, Orion had said yes emphatically and traipsed to his study with the cares of an unburdened man. At least Alphard had patted Regulus' cheek and clamped a reassuring hand on his shoulder before following Orion to the patriarch's study.

                Regulus changes into his robes early once Evans comes calling on her best mate, because he's not certain he wants to be around her and Snape. He's heard the whispers about her—that she's a Muggle-born—and he's undecided how it sits with him. Sirius' group, at least, is mostly purebloods, with the exception of Lupin and Pettigrew, who are half, and the irony's not lost on the younger Black brother that, even escaping their family's House, his brother has mostly stuck with their family's prejudices so far.

                They're less than an hour from the castle, and Regulus is stuck searching for a compartment that he can stand. Narcissa's is full, but he finds he no longer desires the older students' pity or begrudging acceptance.

                Searching around, he knows exactly where to find Sirius and the other three that comprise the "Marauders"—a ridiculous moniker for his brother, Potter, Lupin, and Pettigrew which Sirius is intent on never explaining, no matter Regulus' tries this past summer. The loudest compartment in the car is theirs, so Regulus moves on and dawdles when, two compartments down, he spies the twins and Longbottom along with some witch.

                Regulus frowns, glances up and down the corridor, and risks a gentle rap on the door glass.

                The four students look up, and Longbottom lets him in since he's closest. "Regulus! Good to see you," he says with a practiced friendliness that Regulus long ago determined is ingrained in Longbottom's personality.

                "Oi," Fabian says at the same time Gideon says, "Hey." Fabian leans back in his seat, undisturbed by Regulus' arrival, but Gideon leans forward. At least someone's glad to have him here.

                "By the way, this is Alice," Longbottom says of the witch on the bench beside him.

                Her spiky hair is odd to him—witches are wearing their hair all sorts of ways these days—but her snub nose is a detail he notes right away, although it's not unflattering on her the way it is on other Bulstrodes Regulus has seen photos of. She holds her hand out for him to shake. "Alice Bulstrode," she says, confirming Regulus' deduction. "It's nice to meet Sirius' brother. I've heard a little about you from Frank and the boys."

                Seeing as she wants to talk with him, Regulus darts his eyes to the twins and raises his eyebrows. Fabian doesn't move an inch, but Gideon scoots closer to the window. The space is narrow and damn if Sirius isn't right—Regulus is still a slip of thing and therefore fits perfectly between them.

                Bulstrode is full of idle chatter that Longbottom is happy to engage when Regulus lets the conversation go slack. The twins pipe up here and there, but Regulus isn't completely bombarded with questions, so…this is almost nice. At the very least, it's a way to kill the time, and it's a lot better than having to get sick at the sight of Snape and Evans and yet even better than being stuck in silence with his own thoughts.

                When the students disembark for the carriages, Regulus bids the third years a polite farewell and thankfully finds his compartment empty so he can grab his rucksack and trunk. Out on the dirt path from the train, however, they catch up with him. At least, Gideon does.

                Regulus bites back the quip on his tongue—"You're not here for another chance to stare at the freak that is Sirius' baby brother, are you?"—because he can't make up his mind about Gideon Prewett. There's this quiet, curious excitement to him. Regulus wonders if this is how Gideon approaches everything new in his life.

                Before Regulus can snap at him, though, Gideon stops sneaking glances of him out of the corner of his eye and begins to hum to himself, something nonsensical and rather out of tune. He's not staring anymore, but he's filling the quiet, too, and Regulus finds comfort in it the way he had in the chatter of the compartment just now.

                But when Fabian locates his twin and finds Regulus beside him, he cocks his head to one side, questioning, and Regulus grumbles at Gideon in undertones. "You sound like a loon, humming to yourself."

                "Saved you from the silence, though, didn't it?"

                "I'd rather just have normal conversation."

                It slips out before Regulus can take it back. Gideon's wide-eyed look mirrors Regulus', but the second year stomps off and finds a Slytherin-only carriage before Gideon can exclaim at the breakthrough one of them has had with Sirius' younger brother.

                Slughorn finds it admirable that Regulus wants to play Quidditch and, being a good Head of House, reminds the young lad to keep his marks up. Hooch smirks when Regulus goes to her and only questions why he didn't approach her last year.

                "But—" Regulus stares at her, dumbfounded. "But I was only a first year, Madam Hooch."

                "I could see the grip you had on that practice broomstick, a grip no one else had. You aren't just good at flying, Mr. Black. You love it." And that's that, as she has nothing else to say and her yellow eyes tell him it isn't a discussion anyway.

                He doesn't need to tryout with her; Hooch already knows his abilities. The Slytherin captain, however, is his next task, but luckily Hooch's approval and a demonstration of Regulus' speed are enough to have him agreeing. Gordon Montague is a tall but heavyset sixth year with the kind of brooding stare that begs his team's confidence in him. "Seeker," he says with finality, and Regulus is too happy to grumble that, once again, Sirius is right.

                One plus to his time on the pitch, once his practice gear and uniform come in, is that he's further out of Narcissa's sight. Rabastan had been a Beater last year, but he's retired now, focusing on his studies instead. The others on the team—Davis and Davidson (he can never keep their names straight), Harper, Dobbs, Matthias, Mulciber, Heyworth, and Zhou—don't have much interest in their new reserve Seeker. Mulciber comes as close as he can get, but that just means it's one person Regulus ought to avoid, and he won't be able to avoid other people in other Houses when there's a real game going.

                Dobbs, affectionately referred to as "The Waif" but the more senior members of the team for his gaunt silhouette, is the starting Seeker, but he doesn't have it in for Regulus the way Regulus feared. If anything, Dobbs seems quite tired for a fifth year. A time or two, Regulus thinks he hears mouth noises about Dobbs abandoning this passing fancy now that Regulus is here.

                In the hallways, Regulus still very much sticks to himself, but he can't help a bit of friendly inter-House antagonizing when he crosses paths with Sirius' lot. Longbottom and Lupin are daft, giving him big grins for making the cut, but Potter plays along with Sirius and dramatically stages a rivalry. "I'll see you on the pitch!" Potter obnoxiously snarls at him with Sirius posturing at his side.

                The sight often threatens to make Regulus laugh because, as Chaser and Seeker, Potter isn't even on Regulus' watch list.

                Fabian and Pettigrew seem truly affronted that Regulus will, indeed, be playing for the enemy, but Gideon is the one who pipes up that he'll be rooting for Regulus.

                Regulus cranes his neck up at the older boy to gape at him. "But…if they let me play at all this season, I'll be opposing Gryffindor. You're really going to root for the enemy, Prewett?"

                He frowns. Perhaps he thought that Sirius' introduction and the more time Regulus spent with them meant a first-name basis. "I'm just cheering on a friend, Regulus," he says, saying his first name a tad too loud to confirm that, yes, he really does intend to be friends.

                All Regulus can do is furrow his brow and stare at Gideon as if he's insane. Truthfully, he never thinks of the twins by their surnames—it'd be different if they didn't look alike—but…he hasn't thought before that his brother's friends could be his friends, too. Regulus hasn't even thought of having friends at all, to be honest. Even his teammates are just teammates and nothing more.

                But…if there are fewer reproving persons around, then…maybe it's all right to risk it?

                He stood up for his love of Quidditch. Maybe he can be bold enough to grasp this new experience in front of him, too.

                Gideon watches the gears turn in his head but, frustrated by Regulus' silence, sighs and heads for his next class.

                Words fail him, and it's pointless to call Gideon back now, but Regulus decides he meant what he said by the carriages. Simple conversation is best, and he hopes he gets more chances—at least, with Gideon—for it in the future.

                Practice is grueling and feels for naught when Regulus watches their first match, against Hufflepuff, from the bench. His mood sours more with the first Hogsmeade trip of the year being the following weekend. Slytherin's team bonds through wins and practice; they scant socialize off the pitch, and Regulus is a year too young anyway.

                Not to mention, as he suspected all along, Sirius' lot jumps at the chance for their first visit to the village, so even on an empty campus Regulus remains down in the dumps in a way he hadn't the year before.

                Regulus fills his free day with flying and doodling plays on scrap parchment, as if he might be captain one day. When he's had enough, he lands and crams his things into his bag, broom in hand and ready to enjoy a long bath back in the dorm over a quick shower in the locker room.

                He's halfway from the pitch to the castle when someone calls out to him. Regulus pauses and sees a red head of hair jogging towards him, arms full. Ah, so Sirius' lot was back already.

                "Oh, good!" Gideon's grin is bright and big as he skids to a stop beside Regulus. Something falls out of his pile of loot. "Bugger."

                He bends down to get it at the same time as Regulus, and they clonk heads. Regulus winces and shoots Gideon a dirty look. He puts the item on the top. "How are you even going to make it back to the tower like this?"

                "I'm talented," Gideon replies, and he laughs at his own quip.

                "Fabian won't help you?"

                Gideon glances over his shoulder, squinting. "Nah. I came back ahead of the others. The gents grabbed a big table at the Three Broomsticks and conned some of the girls to join them. I think James is just hoping for Lily to join in, too."

                Regulus blinks. "Wait—as in…?"

                "Lily Evans. Red-haired witch, green eyes. She's tops at Potions, better than me and Remus put together."

                Oh, good grief. Regulus can only picture the drama now, knowing the way Snape looks at Evans and Gideon implying Potter fancies her, too. Regulus shakes his head, done with the topic already. "Why didn't you stay?" he asks as he resumes his trek home.

                Gideon falls into step beside him; Regulus' legs are longer, but Gideon's taller by almost a head right now, so keeping up is no trouble. "I thought it'd be nice to share with you."

                Regulus' eyes dart to the joke items and candy in Gideon's arms. Then he drags his gray eyes up to meet Gideon's blue ones. "I'm not big on candy."

                Gideon frowns and somehow manages to pat Regulus' head. "I didn't think we hit our heads that hard…"

                Regulus swats him away. "Stop that."

                Finally the twin gets a good look at him. "Oh, good Godric. I was right to find you near the pitch—you were working out, weren't you?"

                The phrase makes Regulus want to preen a little, as if he's making strides to stand on a level field with the older players. But he downplays it, correcting, "I was just logging some airtime. You should be back in Hogsmeade, though."

                "Here," Gideon declares, shoving something small into Regulus' hand. "You're obviously delirious and close to catching your death without a cloak on you. Eat that and warm up."

                Regulus frowns as the item—looks like a Pepper Imp, if he recalls correctly a memory of Cygnus slipping one into Alphard's dessert at a family dinner when Regulus was younger. He hadn't envied poor Uncle Alphard back then, biting into it unexpectedly. But Gideon is unyielding and makes a point of waiting for Regulus to try it. So he bites into it, the tiniest of owl-like nips, and lets the chewy candy melt on his tongue.

                It's not bad if one's expecting it. Not to mention, allowing it to melt sends much-needed warmth throughout his body. Regulus keeps this in mind for the next time it's chilly and they've got practice.

                He realizes Gideon's waiting for a reaction. "It's good," he admits, and he's content to nibble on the rest as Gideon chatters at him about the rest of his experience on the way inside the castle.

                Regulus is good at keeping his nose in his books. These days, he has Quidditch to juggle, too, but he's honestly more studious than ever. Perhaps he wants those high marks again, he muses with a stray thought to Walburga's approval. …perhaps he wants to meet expectations now that he's set them, especially so high.

                But, though he's good at keeping his nose in his books and in his own business, sometimes Regulus finds his eyes wandering. His eyes never go very far, especially if another Slytherin sits across from him in the Great Hall or if Regulus secludes himself in a corner of the library. But, more often than not, they wander to Sirius' friends.

                Now that he's into his second year of knowing them, Regulus realizes that's not quite accurate. They're Sirius' roommates, and Sirius gets on well with them, but it's not actually "Sirius' lot" at all. It's the Marauders and the hangers-on. Regulus feels a tug of guilt when he glances at Gideon when he thinks this, but it's true. It's the Marauders and those three. Or the Marauders and Longbottom and the Prewett twins. Longbottom actually spends much of his time at Bulstrode's side and vice versa, and the twins often keep to themselves when not signing off approval on another infamous Marauders prank. And, as the year goes on, even the twins aren't inseparable, with Fabian always snagging the seat by a dark-haired girl by the name of Meadowes.

                At those times, Regulus wonders if Gideon feels lonely. Maybe that's why he's trying so hard to be friends with Regulus—seeking out like kind.

                For an angry moment, Regulus resents him.

                Then, just the same, Regulus deflates. Does the how matter as much as the why when Gideon's intentions are on the bloody lion's sleeve?

                As Regulus thinks this at lunchtime one late winter afternoon, Gideon picks his head up from his plate and spots Regulus staring. He smiles softly, sadly, and Regulus' heart falls into his stomach, because that's the smile of someone who's been found out but still hopes their friendship can continue regardless.

                Through classes and matches and exams, Regulus perseveres, one foot ahead of the other, one step at a time. He's glad he's so far removed from having to figure out his future, even though he's certain either Orion or Walburga has it planned out for him. But he breathes a sigh of relief as Narcissa's exams in particular draw closer. Of course, the entire school has exams, but Narcissa will graduate and that will be one less person to report back to the family about Regulus' business.

                There are another two Hogsmeade trips, one which Gideon attends and the last which he doesn't. He brings back more Pepper Imps from the second trip, but he refuses to tell Regulus why skipping the last trip is worth it.

                Regulus thinks it's because of Slytherin's standing for the Quidditch Cup. The scores are in, and Slytherin is second behind Ravenclaw this year. Perhaps spending a free day with Regulus is Gideon's attempt to cheer up his friend. Regulus posits this.

                Gideon's mouth quirks up at the right corner. They're on the green again, where Regulus properly met him and the others a year ago, except they sit on the grass with their backs to the stone of the courtyard's corridor, soaking up the sunshine and fresh air. "…maybe," he says finally, as if he's trying to figure out the answer for himself.

                "How can you not know why you're killing time here with me?"

                Gideon shrugs. "Not everything needs an explanation, needs a word put to it, Regulus."

                Regulus opens his mouth to protest, but no sensible argument comes to mind. He turns away, fighting this odd feeling of comfort with Gideon's realization.

                He's a good cousin, a loyal Black, as he spends part of the ride home in Narcissa's compartment to congratulate her. Luckily, she doesn't keep him tied to her, and Regulus ventures off, finding the twins and Longbottom sharing another again. Bulstrode is nowhere to be found, and Fabian sits beside Longbottom for once, so Regulus claims the open seat beside Gideon. Fabian narrows his eyes at Regulus for a fraction of a second, which Regulus neither understands nor acknowledges, but the rest of the ride is cozy enough, and Longbottom's chattiness and Gideon's conversation keeps Regulus interested until they pull into the station.

                As everyone files off, Regulus caught in line ahead of Gideon, Regulus feels the weight of his trunk and his gear on his slender frame, and a tug on the hand behind him nearly throws him off-balance. He stumbles, but Gideon catches him, and he grins sheepishly when Regulus throws him a look.

                "Sorry, my fault," Gideon apologizes. At Regulus' confused blinking, he continues, "Check your palm."

                Regulus has no room to twist his arm around and peek at it, but he wiggles his grip on his trunk. There's a scrap of parchment there. The younger Black's eyebrows shoot up into the curls that are getting lengthy in front of his face.

                "You can write me, y'know," he whispers, as if Longbottom isn't between him and the prying ears of his twin.

                In another universe, Regulus would be delighted. This—this is what normal friends do.

                But normal friends don't have the parents Regulus does.

                "Sorry, I can't," he rushes, and he faces forward in an attempt to end the discussion right then and there.

                He feels more than sees the disappointment in Gideon's body language as the students get off the train. But, out on the platform, before either Sirius or his father can find him, Gideon turns Regulus to face him and struggles to hide his frown. "Not at all?"

                "We're not allowed to write," Regulus fibs. It's a partial truth. Neither he nor Sirius have ever had anyone to write, but it doesn't matter now—the people in their lives are the exact kind with which their parents wouldn't want them associating, despite the blood purity.

                Gideon searches his face for a hint of the truth, holds his gaze steady, and then nods. "I'll see you at school, then. Have a good summer, Regulus."

                The words "You, too, Gideon" are caught in his throat for a second, but he forces them out and catches a rewarding smile before having to turn away. It's a memory that will come to serve as a comfort from time to time this summer, though Regulus doesn't know that yet.

                There are two things of note for Regulus the summer before his third year:

                His hair and Sirius' is growing long, and their parents have nothing to say about that.

                And Sirius has begun to spend less time with Regulus at home.

                The former gives Regulus trepidation. Why would Walburga Black, who prefers everything prim and proper, neat and tidy, allow Sirius to have his shaggy mop, allow Regulus this mass of lengthening curls? The nearest he can guess is that Regulus might look more like Orion one day, as their father wears his hair to his shoulders in soft curls and never ties it back.

                But Sirius' style makes less sense—Regulus can squint and picture him with his hair halfway to his back in the coming years, and that Sirius looks like Alphard. Alphard may be Walburga's brother, but she's never had a nice thing to say to him or about him. Usually she puts up with his presence because her brother and husband get along for some baffling reason.

                Regulus only has all this time to waste wondering about their hair because of the second issue, that being Sirius' growing independence. It makes him frown, each time Sirius turns him down when Regulus wants to spend time with him. They don't lounge outside anymore. They don't play games indoors anymore. The most Sirius is willing to do these days is chat, but never at length. Regulus even has his brother's door shut in his face a time or two.

                One of those times, Walburga walks by and she lifts her chin at Regulus. "It's best to leave him alone and find worthier pursuits," she says. There's a flat detachment to her tone, as if she no longer believes she has a fourteen-year-old son. She carries on about her day as if there's nothing amiss, too.

                But Regulus knows better. Sometimes he hears animalistic noises from Sirius' room, and, if he didn't know better, Regulus would think he's taken in a stray dog. From low growls to sigh-like huffs, there's a mystery in Sirius' room that remains a mystery to Regulus, so Regulus spends as much times as possible outside on his broom to keep from dwelling on his newfound loneliness.

                Hovering and doing slow loops around the backyard, out of sight of the neighboring Muggles as the other pureblood homes are bought up one townhouse at a time, Regulus is left to his thoughts about loneliness itself no matter how hard he tries. It's depressing, of course, but he's struck by some thoughts from before the school year ended, about how much he and Gideon seem to have in common.

                The stray thought about the friendlier of the Prewett twins then takes Regulus mentally into his room, into his trunk, into the pocket of a pair of slacks where he stuffed Gideon's scribbled address. He suddenly has a strong desire to write him, but the desire flames out when he recalls how he'd stressed it was impossible and how Gideon frowned.

                But, one slow loop later, Regulus lands on the sparse grass. Gideon's frown has morphed into that smile he gave Regulus at the last second at the station.

                The memory makes Regulus smile to himself, in the presence of no one at all. His smile is accompanied by a rush of heat in his chest and on his arms despite the heat of the summer sun pushing through stubborn English clouds.

                Absentmindedly, he wonders if this is what it's like to be hugged. He wouldn't know—the Black family is not known for affection—but he likes to imagine this is the case.

                "You're the starting Seeker? Congratulations!"

                Regulus turns at the sound of Gideon's exclamation, and he pauses in the second-floor corridor so Gideon catches up with him. "You eavesdropped," Regulus points out as he turns and continues his trek from Herbology to Defense upstairs.

                "No, I happened to overhear the good news since McGonagall let us out early," Gideon corrects. He switches his bag to his other side so it won't smack into Regulus' left arm as they walk.

                "She let you out early?"

                "Not that she wanted to. James and Sirius were a little overzealous in planning some prank meant for Snape, and it rather blew up the classroom. She ushered the rest of us out and has them cleaning up." Gideon pauses in his story, thinking aloud, "It's strange. They used to be quite interested in Transfiguration, but they seem almost…bored with it somehow this year."

                Regulus frowns. He knows Sirius has been passing so far, but he doesn't know a lick about his brother's best and worst subjects. It's a stark reminder of how the brothers' bond is changing for the worse.

                Gideon eyes him and resumes their previous topic. "But, erm, yes, I saw Montague with you and couldn't help myself. Congrats again, Regulus."

                The younger Black shrugs. "It was inevitable. Dobbs didn't return this year, so now we're down to one reserve Keeper and one reserve Beater since I'm starting."

                "So humble." Gideon grins with a bump of his shoulder against Regulus', and he laughs when that plucks a smile from the shorter wizard. "It's good to see you enjoying yourself, y'know."

                Regulus shrugs again, his smile softer now. "There's more to do when you're older. The only excitement a first year or second year could ever hope to have is—I dunno—maybe a creature loose about the castle?"

                "Regulus!"

                "Well, you're a fourth year. You're in your second year of Care for Magical Creatures and you don't think it's one of the most dangerous subjects to have on campus?"

                Gideon half laughs, half sighs—he's exasperated. He playfully reaches for Regulus' head and rustles his hair. That's when he notices. "Oh, hey. Your hair's gotten long, hasn't it?"

                Such plain words and a typical gesture Regulus ought to be used to by now for all the times Sirius has done it. But Regulus blinks and flashes back to that smile Gideon gave him ages ago. He realizes Gideon's attention makes him feel the same way that smile did back then. It's…it's nice. Not just nice to know friendship can be this grand and change his mood so completely. Gideon's attention is what's nice.

                "Regulus?"

                "I like it long, I think," Regulus offers finally. He snickers at Gideon. "Maybe you should try it."

                Gideon winces at the mental image. "No, thanks. My sister's hair is a curly mess that I don't want to ever have to deal with…."

                Compared to this time last year, Regulus is in a much better mood when he hands McGonagall his permission slip for Hogsmeade. He's one of the last ones to do so, as he dragged his feet and debated the merits of finally getting to know his roommates before ultimately choosing to go stag.

                With everything in order, the third years and older students traipse down from the castle to the Wizarding village. It doesn't take long for Regulus to see a redhead fall back and head for him. Regulus purses his lips, happy Gideon joins him but also wondering what it will cost him.

                Gideon lifts one unconvinced eyebrow in answer to his expression. "Come, now. It can't be that awful, hanging out with me?"

                Regulus peeks around him, where Fabian and the others are swallowed up by the crowd. "They're…not going to cajole me into going with the lot of you?"

                He shakes his head. "Nope. I wanted to take you on your first trip, and no one had any complaints." He pales, realizes his obvious inclusion of Sirius, and glances with wide, cautious eyes at Regulus.

                It smarts, of course, but Regulus had the summer to dwell on the dynamics of his brother and his cohort since Sirius left him to his own devices. "I appreciate the thought," he says, leaning Gideon's way.

                A pleased flush graces his faintly freckled cheeks and fades. "You know, I thought hormones would be delayed another year, but I was wrong."

                Regulus squints at him. Puberty was evident last year. Potter's voice is more booming than before so now his shouts of "OI, EVANS!" can be heard from anywhere in the castle. Sirius sounds like a younger version of their father, an observation that sends an involuntary shiver down Regulus' back. But Gideon already had a pleasing, somewhat deep voice, and Regulus doesn't interrupt so he can enjoy more of it.

                "Fabian's dating Dorcas now," Gideon announces with a sigh.

                Ah, right. The Meadowes girl. "Good for him?"

                Gideon dramatically sighs and leans on Regulus' shoulder. Regulus has grown, too, but Gideon's kept pace and is still almost a head taller; if he leans any harder on Regulus, he'll topple them both. "You're too goodhearted, Regulus. Don't you leave me, too, you hear?"

                A million replies rest on the tip of his tongue. The two best war to be said, yet Regulus says neither. He can't believe anyone thinks of him in such a positive light.

                But he also can't fathom being the one who leaves another. He's primed to be left, time and again.

                Regulus likes Hogsmeade all right, although it doesn't meet his expectations. The Three Broomsticks is too crowded to have his first butterbeer, and he won't go into a place as dingy as the Hog's Head—as if it has anything to offer them regardless. He balks at the idea of Puddifoot's, but Gideon insists Madam Puddifoot's spiced pumpkin cider is an overlooked treasure. Regulus waits at the opposite end of High Street, and Gideon runs two takeaway cups to him. They sip and scald their tongues on the way to Zonko's so Gideon can make a stop, and they finish their drinks before entering Honeydukes.

                The sweets shop is warm and cozy, and Regulus can appreciate it even if he has little interest in it. He stands off to the side while Gideon makes his selections, and it's entertaining watching the indigo bubblegum bubbles hang in the air around them. More so are the Lolly Loops, the Candy with a Handle™, that loop around the heads of students the moment their handles are released. A lime green one is joined by a sparkling blue one that drips with glitter as they float around Gideon's head. No matter the number of times he swats them away, they follow him around the shop until he feels pressed to purchase them. He offers either to Regulus, who shakes his head but kindly relieves Gideon of the baggy of Pepper Imps he knows Gideon bought for him.

                Near the castle (because Regulus has decided, like Gideon, it's nicer to return early ahead of the stampede), Regulus digs in his pocket and pulls out a handful of Sickles.

                Gideon pushes his free hand away. "My treat."

                Regulus doesn't believe in free things. Everything has a cost—that's one of Orion and Walburga's few valuable lessons.

                Perhaps he's an open book, because Gideon adds, "Consider it a thank-you for letting me take you around." His grin is large and toothy and bordering on laughter.

                Regulus is so flustered, he forgets to take only a nibble of his third Pepper Imp. His bite is too large that he skips the smoke the sweet promises and proceeds directly to breathing fire. Gideon does finally laugh, and he guffaws when Regulus slaps his arm to shut him up before anyone else can take notice of Regulus Black looking like any other stupid teenager.

                Being on the pitch all the time this year otherwise demands more of Regulus' focus, and he feels the weight of his books and assignments as he goes between classes. He's not let his marks slip a bit, but he knows he can't keep this up forever. So far Slytherin's won every game leading up to Christmas break, but Regulus desperately needs extra time to figure out how to balance his new responsibilities.

                He doesn't write anyone. Never. Not even his own parents. Up 'til now, he and Sirius have obediently gone home for Christmas and Easter breaks and returned to Hogwarts quieter than they left. But this time, this year, it's different.

                Regulus pens them a quick missive, about his victories and about his desire to get ahead of his classmates. The latter is a lie, but they won't agree to anything if they learn of his precarious academics.

                The owl arrives shortly before students are due on the train home.

                You may stay.

                The roundness of the lowercase letters is a trademark of Walburga's handwriting. Perhaps she believes Regulus stands a fighting chance of being the top of his class by his seventh year.

                But what doesn't track is that the permission is addressed to him and Sirius both.

                It's odd enough that Regulus actually leaves the Slytherin table after morning post arrives and goes directly to his brother's group. He passes the note to Sirius over Pettigrew's shoulder, and he ignores the raised eyebrows from Potter and Lupin alike. "You're staying for break?" he asks. It's too important a question to mind that others are listening in.

                "I am." Sirius meets his eyes for the first time in a long while, and Regulus almost flinches. They may share the same gray eyes, but Sirius looks so much older, so unlike himself, that Regulus doubts he knows this person to whom he speaks.

                When the silent stalemate continues, Lupin shifts in his seat to grab Regulus' attention. "Um, you know, it's rather common, Regulus. Loads of students have a break at the castle one year or another." He offers a brittle smile that cracks the continuity of one scar over his mouth. "I'm staying this holiday, even."

                Regulus grimaces. He could care less about Lupin's plans. He spies Sirius toying with Lupin's hair when the frail boy's smile falls as Regulus turns without any sort of polite acknowledgment.

                Later in the day but not late enough, Gideon finds Regulus sulking up in the Clock Tower. He's dressed properly for the weather…but also to go home.

                Regulus bites back a remark about how Sirius always manages to hang on to his friends these days, even in the short-term. And Regulus is alone, yet again.

                "If I'd known, I would've given you a head's up," Gideon says by way of apology.

                "That's not your responsibility."

                Gideon frowns and joins Regulus in watching the quiet courtyard from their perch. "It's not about responsibility, Reg. It's hard, seeing you and Sirius pull apart."

                "Well, I'm sorry for ruining your day."

                The twin places a hand on Regulus' right forearm and turns him so they see each other. He frowns still, but his expression is stern. "You didn't ruin my day. I just—I hurt, seeing you hurt, yeah?"

                The idea is so alien to Regulus, all he can do is gape at Gideon. All he has to offer is "Oh," in understanding.

                Gideon's hand tightens on his arm. He hasn't spent all his free time with Regulus because he doesn't want to be a bother, but they've been around each other long enough that Gideon knows how studious Regulus is and how tired he's been. "Just…" He tugs Regulus to him in half a hug, one-armed and reluctant because Regulus doesn't know how to react and Gideon guesses this right away.

                Regulus' face is aflame, and he's suddenly relieved that he can hide his face in Gideon's chest. A niggling voice in his head taunts him for knowing social etiquette in lieu of affection, but more than that Regulus works on burning the feeling of Gideon's embrace into his memory. Gideon Prewett shows him kindness he hasn't deserved, friendship he hasn't earned. Knowing that Gideon gives these things freely without the expectation of anything in return makes the backs of Regulus' eyes prickle with the intense heat of threatening tears.

                Gideon risks a chuckle when he pulls away enough to see Regulus' face, but he doesn't comment about the uncharacteristic emotion on the Slytherin's face. "You know…," he begins, slow and tentative, "…you'll be at the castle for the whole break. And the school has its own Owlery." He raises his eyebrows.

                Regulus laughs. It's a wet sound, but at least he manages not to cry. He pushes playfully on Gideon's chest, not minding that Gideon keeps hold of that one arm. "…all right," he concedes.

                Gideon's face radiates with utter delight. He hugs Regulus again, a bone-crushing gesture, and then straightens up when they hear Fabian walking across the courtyard, shouting for his twin aimlessly as if Gideon will pop out of thin air. "Argh, Fabian… Him and his terrible timing."

                "I'll be fine," Regulus promises with a discreet swipe at his eyes, even though nothing spills out.

                "I know. You're strong."

                If it weren't for the way Gideon's eyes linger on him, Regulus would feel another wave of oncoming tears. He's never thought of himself as the strong one before. That's always been Sirius. …but, Regulus knows, he's been comparing himself a little less to Sirius these days, now that he's carving his own life out at Hogwarts.

                "I will write you, so I'd like at least one reply back," Gideon declares cheekily. He even winks as he walks away, and his grin is impish when Regulus trails after him.

                "You know, if I have the time," Regulus teases. He waves a dismissive hand. "Between all the studying."

                "Brat," Gideon huffs. He rustles Regulus' hair once for good measure, the curls fall slowly from his hand before he leaves, and Regulus is left standing in the Clock Tower with the comforting memory of this exchange and the promise that Gideon will be back soon enough.

                That doesn't keep Gideon from reminding Regulus that he exists…only a daily basis, too.

                Before bed that same night, a scrawny gray–brown owl squawks outside the dungeon doors until enough of the handful of older students also staying for break threatens the younger students to shut the bloody bird up so they can sleep. No one wants to get up, but Regulus has an idea, so he slips on his robe and pushes his feet into his slippers to check.

                The owl chirps at him and nips at his fingers while he unties the notes on the bird's left leg. He unfurls it—and almost bursts out laughing.

                Regulus—

                I was certain I could convince you when your plans were confirmed this morning, so here's my very first letter to you! I'm sure Fabian will whine when I dash off to the Owlery before the train leaves, but I'm betting this will be worth it. Looking forward to your response and hoping you get as much sleep as you do time in the library during break.

                —Gideon

                Gideon's handwriting is anything but formal, half cursive and half print. It's…very Gideon, Regulus decides. But he's not so daft as to churn out a response right now when he'd rather be buried under blankets and snoring.

                The break lasts the blink of an eye. Regulus is the only third year staying in his dorm, so he unabashedly drafts and scribbles and writes until he has something stupid to send back to Gideon.

                Gideon—

                You're an idiot if you were late for the train. But I hope Fabian didn't give you too much grief.

                —Regulus

                It really is stupid, but Regulus doesn't know how paper communication works. He scratches out a passable doodle of a Pepper Imp in the bottom corner of his letter (if it can be called that), ignores the wads of previous drafts that all missed the waste basket, and sends it off before breakfast on day one.

                Owling Gideon is a comfort when, every mealtime, Regulus spies Sirius and Lupin at the Gryffindor table. There are just shy of three dozen students staying in the castle, so it's not hard to spy them. Regulus wonders how Sirius can be satisfied with only Lupin's company given that he's been with a dozen witches since the middle of the previous school year, but then Regulus ponders his own situation. He has Gideon. Regulus thought Sirius had Potter, but perhaps one's allowed more than one best mate.

                Regulus occupies himself with Gideon's missives and writing him back and trying to convey his annoyance that Gideon is stunned he can draw. It's the occasional distraction from his studies, but Gideon's notes make for excellent bookmarks, especially the more Regulus reads, because they really pile up.

                That's when it hits Regulus, the day before everyone's due back:

                He's got piles of letters from Gideon, and nowhere to hide them once he's home.

                The panic that seizes Regulus crawls up from his belly and clambers up into his chest and snatches his throat. He actually loosens his tie in the library as the anxious beast makes itself at home underneath his skin.

                Sweet Salazar, what was he thinking? He never should've taken up Gideon on his offer, no matter how insistent. Regulus will obviously have to burn these. They're so much more than Gideon's address on a scrap piece of parchment. These he can't hide in the pockets and folds of his uniforms in his trunk.

                These he can't hide…

                A flash of brilliance strikes him, and he dashes to the front desk where Pince lifts her pointed beak at his arrival. "Excuse me, Madam Pince, I was wondering if you could help me find a book about Expansion Charms?"

                And that's his answer. He pays half attention to Pince as she pulls five books from the shelves of the middle-grade Charms texts…because, just up the aisle, are the books on advanced Concealment Charms….

                The second half of the year, Regulus often catches Gideon staring at him. When he's caught, Gideon smiles slowly, and his eyes always say the same thing: "You're in a good mood these days."

                He first noted it the second week back after the holidays, to which Regulus had replied with a shrug. Better than admitting outright that he's figured out a way to thwart his parents at last.

                Instead, Regulus is content to smirk in reply, and they carry on as if they've had this conversation a thousand times. Maybe, maybe not, since Regulus has relaxed his guard around Gideon. He cares less about the times they can be spotted together in public. Be it in the dining hall (on occasion), in the corridors, or in Hogsmeade, Regulus has a fearless flame burning in his chest.

                With startling clarity, he recalls one early morning during finals that look Sirius gave him years ago and what it'd said:

                "It is not a mistake to be yourself."

                He may not get along well with his brother right now, but Regulus doesn't disagree with him. If Regulus is as fearless as he feels, maybe that's fine.

                It's not fine, not fine at all.

                "Goddamn you!" Orion barks at Sirius. He growls at the heap on the floor that is his elder son, and the darkness on his face keeps Regulus pressed against the corner of the den, far out of reach.

                Sirius is fifteen, but even he, for all his bravado, looks like a five-year-old again, curled in a ball with his arms cradling his head, protecting it from another blow. Both brothers had expected Sirius to be slapped—Walburga had read their marks and said nothing to her husband, merely shown him Sirius'. So why? What makes this year so different?

                Orion breathes slowly through his nose. The fact that he has that much control means he's sober…so why is he more violent than when he's drunk?

                Sirius shakes. His body wants to unfurl, and fear keeps Regulus from running to him to still him, to remind him that cowering is the safest option right now.

                "How dare you, you lazy bastard! You've given up on school, have you?"

                Regulus stares, shocked, at his brother. Did Sirius really not care anymore? Even knowing what they'd come home to? It can't be true.

                "Your marks are in the toilet," Orion snarls, flexing his right fist at his side, "but that takes a simple string to pull to guarantee your sorry arse is back there this fall. What I'd really like to know is the truth of the rumors."

                Sirius' shudders still. Regulus looks between them. Rumors? What rumors?

                "Do you really have nothing better to do than go diving down the shirt and up the skirt of every witch that strikes your fancy? You're a Black, a pureblood, not some mutt in heat."

                Regulus' first thought is that, no, that can't be true. Sirius is known as the school flirt, sure, but certainly Gideon would've told him if he were worse?

                But then the more terrifying thought occurs to Regulus:

                How in the hell can Orion know this?

                Suddenly Regulus is sick. He keeps himself in check, because emptying his breakfast on the expensive rug will draw his father's attention faster than Sirius can come up with a retort.

                The retort never comes. Orion leaves the room, pausing to look right through Regulus as if to say Sirius is a warning if Regulus so much as stretches a toe out of line, and then there are just the brothers Black.

                Regulus says nothing. After several minutes, he cautiously approaches his brother and reaches out a shaking hand to his shoulder.

                Sirius, big and brave Sirius, flinches. He throws Regulus' hand off and stomps out and upstairs, slamming his bedroom door shut.

                There is no love to be found in this house at Twelve Grimmauld Place, and Regulus can no longer speak to the confidence of his bond with Sirius. More than that, he doesn't know who to blame more—Walburga, for her love of appearances and nothing else, or Orion, for the void in his chest. Dependency isn't love, so Regulus doesn't count Orion's attitude towards the bottle. So maybe Orion is incapable of love. That must be it. So Regulus hates him just a tad more than he hates his mother.

                Regulus is wrong, yet again.

                The summer winds down, and Regulus spends another night rereading his collection of Gideon's letters from Christmas break and the small stack of notes Gideon wrote him between classes and passed him in the hallway or in the library. Rereading Gideon's words, be they silly or banal, has quelled the sobs that threatened to escape Regulus this summer, and they're like bedtime stories—although he's always careful never to fall asleep with them spread out. Not only does he not want to smudge a single precious word by risking drooling on them in his sleep, but he can't risk his parents barging in and finding them.

                He's a Black, so he knows the family tree well—they're taught to memorize it no later than six years of age. The Weasleys are considered Muggle-loving traitors, and Cedrella was blasted off the family tree for marrying Septimus. It's his blood that runs through the veins of Gideon's sister's husband and her children. Even though Lucretia is still on the family tree doesn't mean her marriage to Ignatius Prewett will be accepted indefinitely; allowing Molly to marry Arthur…mingling ideologies has rarely worked out for Blacks. And Regulus worries what might happen if his friendship with Gideon is discovered, if Orion hasn't been informed already.

                This night in particular, however, finds Regulus stuffing his Gideon letters into a hidden pocket in his trunk, a pocket created proudly once he figured out the magic for an Undetectable Expansion Charm, when he hears a ruckus downstairs.

                Regulus finishes his task and considers the options. It can't be Sirius—he heard his brother sneaking out his window yesterday, and Sirius hasn't been back and probably won't be back until it's time to leave for the train in a few days' time. It isn't Walburga either, because she left at the start of the week for a girls' vacation with Aunt Druella and their friend, Theomina Nott.

                That leaves Orion, and Regulus swallows the lump in his throat. Orion is the last person he wants to check up on…

                But there's laughter that quickly quiets down, and Regulus panics. If Orion's drinking and falls, he could die. Regulus doesn't like to think Walburga would find some way to blame him for his father's death, but, more than that, he doesn't want his father to die. It's absurd, considering what he and Sirius have been put through, and Regulus can't make sense of it, so he tucks the sobering yet childish wish for Orion's survival into a corner of his mind to analyze another time and creeps downstairs.

                Kreacher's out of sight and possibly asleep, given the late hour, so that and the noise in Orion's study confirms it's his father making the ruckus. There are muffled sentences and more laughter and a "Fuck, I hadn't even had a sip of that yet!" that's undeniably in Orion's rough voice.

                The door to his father's study is cracked open, and Regulus presses himself against it. It opens slightly wider, because Quidditch has put a little more weight on his short, slender frame. But the occupants don't notice, and Regulus breathes a sigh of relief.

                Alphard's here unusually late, but the grin on Orion's face says he's likely the reason why Orion made it home in one piece anyway. Alphard's a copper-eyed mystery to his nephews, the polar opposite of Orion and an oddball even compared to the rest of the family. He doesn't enjoy his drink the way his brother and brother-in-law do, and he's always been nice, warm even, to Sirius and Regulus.

                Regulus frowns as he watches a smirk of Alphard's elicit another laugh from Orion. Maybe this explains everything. Maybe Orion just can't stand children.

                He's wishing Orion hadn't bothered having him and Sirius when he catches a grin on his father's face that makes Alphard glare at him. And then, miraculous of all things, Orion reaches for Alphard and touches his cheek.

                Odd. Regulus' flashes to all the times Alphard patted his or Sirius' cheek. It's…kind. Perhaps the way a father ought to be.

                But Orion is not Alphard's father, and he snickers when Alphard swats his hand away and grabs Orion's glasses to put back on the shelf since—Regulus spies it in the glint of Orion's desk light—a bottle of booze rests on the floor, shattered and soaking into the wooden floorboards. With Alphard's back turned, Orion reaches for him again, but he's content this time merely to play with Alphard's lengthy locks. When Alphard at last turns, the two men share a smile Regulus has never witnessed in this house, and he scrambles back to his room to process what he's seen.

                Regulus does not know love. It is not something either Orion or Walburga taught their sons, and Regulus sincerely believed Orion incapable of it.

                But that shared smile speaks to a kindness Orion has never shown his wife or sons.

                And it leaves Regulus reeling.

                Regulus is quiet and observant this school year. From the train compartment to classes to study blocks—he seeks understanding of this fathomless mystery.

                Was he mistaken?

                Maybe Orion and Alphard are just good mates.

                Outside of the obvious cheating implication…how wrong is their relationship? If it even is that.

                When that question trips him up, Regulus thinks it's silly to read into fiddling with someone else's hair. They're in-laws. Maybe they actually get along the way Sirius and Regulus used to, because Sirius used to tousle his hair.

                …but, no, he didn't play with it.

                Gideon rolls with Regulus' silence after the first few times he questioned it and got no answer. He's worried, Regulus can tell by the way his wide blue eyes follow him, but Regulus can't divulge this to Gideon, not to anyone.

                Instead, Gideon fills the silence with more of his own life, of his plans for the future. "O.W.L.s await you next year, you know," he points out as they sit in the library in late October.

                Regulus tenses. Sirius faces O.W.L.s this year, same as Gideon. If he can't get them, then what does it mean next summer?

                Gideon pokes the back of Regulus' hand with the feathered end of his quill, useless for getting attention but good on someone rather jumpy like Regulus. "Mind out on the pitch, Reg?"

                He opens his mouth to reply, but a memory tickles his brain. This isn't the first time Gideon's called him by a nickname, and he narrows his eyes at Gideon. He's not annoyed…frazzled, perhaps.

                Gideon cocks his head to one side, like an innocent pup.

                "No, not really," he answers. He reads over his Potions essay. "You were saying about O.W.L.s?"

                "If all goes well, I'm planning to take the N.E.W.T.s meant for Auror training."

                It's not ice in his stomach but stone. Regulus…can't fathom that. He doesn't know about the family businesses, but he's never had a good feeling about them, especially with Bellatrix seemingly disappearing with Rodolphus shortly after their marriage (and, somewhere in the back of his mind, he realizes he's absorbed no news about Narcissa or the others since they've left Hogwarts, if there's been any news at all). But one thing for certain is that, despite Ministry influence, there's never been a Black in the Auror Office. He lifts his head from his homework, concern tainting his tone with the odd squeak as he points out, "But—that's dangerous work, Gid."

                He blinks as they both realize Regulus' informal slip-up but forges ahead. "I know. But I'd like to do it. With Dark wizards running around…" He shakes his head. "I've a lot of people I want to protect."

                Regulus frowns but understands. Where he has himself, Gideon has his parents, his siblings, and what seems like an unending factory line of nephews.

                That's why it's startling to find Gideon staring so intently at him when he meets the twin's eyes again.

                "What?"

                "You're one of those people, y'know."

                It's both a fact and a promise, coming from Gideon's mouth, and Regulus splutters. He thanks him, and they resume their homework while Gideon envisions a future where he'll make time in his Auror schedule to see each and every one of Regulus' matches because, of course, Regulus has the talent to go pro.

                Regulus never considered that before. He loves Quidditch, as much as one can love a sport or other intangible concept, but he never thought it an acceptable route for his future. Sirius' fame jokes aside, Regulus sincerely has believed all this time that, maybe even before he graduates, his parents will come to him and declare his future—job, wife, residence—and that will be that, all tied up with a neat bow because Walburga would have nothing less.

                But letting Gideon plan his future is a much more pleasing thought, and it calms Regulus' minds on nights when his family situation's lack of sense tries to keep him up.

                The Black brothers spend Christmas break at Hogwarts again this year, Regulus smiles as he ends up with a new stash of Gideon letters over break, and Sirius pointedly ignores his brother in the halls just as Regulus ignores him and the pleading look Lupin shoots him when Sirius' back is turned.

                Lupin, perhaps, wants the brothers to reconcile, and Regulus theorizes as much to Gideon. Gideon shrugs but can see how he'd make that leap.

                "The Marauders are thick as thieves, but James and Remus are different in Sirius' life," he says as he walks down to the pitch one Saturday afternoon in mid-February. Regulus has told him a hundred times he doesn't have to join him when Regulus wants to practice, but Gideon's always happy to tag along.

                "Different—you mean he sees Potter as his brother," Regulus bitterly amends.

                Gideon purses his lips and shrugs a second time. He doesn't have to echo Sirius' words that have been heard a time or two outside of Gryffindor Tower. Sirius really does see Potter as his blood.

                "But, even Lupin?" Regulus has never understood why he and Pettigrew fall into the same group as Sirius and Potter, but he long ago stopped wasting brain power trying to decode the secrets of their friendship.

                "Remus is a lot more sensitive than James is. Sirius leans on them in different ways, I s'pose," Gideon states.

                "What for?"

                Now Gideon hesitates. He drags his feet, slows enough that Regulus has to stop and face him. Gideon gently pushes the broomstick handle away from his face. "Well, Reg…"

                Regulus furrows his brow, waiting.

                "Sirius—Sirius was in rough shape when the year started. And James told Remus this was a recurring theme last summer." Gideon rests sad eyes on his friend, the blue a less vibrant, melancholy hue in the overcast gray sky.

                Regulus grips his broom tighter and grits his teeth.

                "Regulus…"

                He bristles. "Don't ask."

                Gideon pauses. "Fabian, Frank, and I overheard, you know. But it fits. Seven blokes to a dorm—the castle's accommodating, but we've seen parts of him yellow before."

                Regulus swallows the thick lump in his throat and marches for the Quidditch pitch. "And I suppose you extrapolated the rest?!" he shouts, loud enough for Gideon to hear if he can't keep up. "Is that why you included me in your protection list?! I'm someone to be saved?!"

                Gideon's height favors speed, and he catches up to Regulus in no time. He grabs Regulus' left shoulder and turns him. "No," he replies, tone even, his word delivered without hurry. "You're—"

                Regulus flinches. If Gideon says "family," then he really doesn't know Regulus at all.

                Gideon, the reliable dolt, understands, and he pulls Regulus to him. This hug is less timid than the Clock Tower one. It's reassuring. It's—it's Regulus captured, rooted to the spot until he acquiesces that it's all right for Gideon to care about him.

                Regulus huffs, the sound muffled by Gideon's shoulder. He awkwardly lifts his arms and returns the gesture, though his hands don't wrap around Gideon fully. He has to settle for tangling his fingers in Gideon's cloak, somewhat difficult with a broom still in hand.

                Satisfied, the redhead straightens up. His eyes rove over Regulus, as if he's uncertain to believe Regulus hugged him back. He reaches up—

                —but Regulus turns away a second time, and this time Gideon doesn't push it. Usually, Regulus has no qualms with Gideon mussing his hair.

                But this year is different because the memory of Orion and Alphard keeps coming to mind.

                Halfway through spring, Regulus realizes that he's unconsciously had another example in front of him this whole time. It's not just that…odd intimacy between Orion and Alphard.

                Sirius is the same way.

                With Lupin.

                At lunch, on a Thursday, Regulus' eyes never leave the Gryffindor table despite having Gideon over here at the Slytherin one with him. It takes fifteen minutes of staring at the Marauders, watching their interactions, for it to click with Regulus.

                Sirius is a fun-loving bloke and friendly with everyone. But the Marauders are different. Pettigrew gets teasing, half-arsed gentle punches to the arm when he says something amusing. Potter often waggles his eyebrows with Sirius after something inappropriate. And Lupin—

                Lupin, like Potter, is reclined on by Sirius. But he's the only one whose hands get held and whose hair is played with. And that's been going on for years.

                The tender roll melts on Regulus' tongue as he forgets about the rest of his meal. Sirius is a flirt and has dated maybe half the school's witches by now, but…there's never that gentleness, that intimacy he has with Lupin.

                Of course, he scolds himself, that's based on what can be seen in public. Nevertheless, despite all of Sirius' changes, Regulus still knows some things about his brother, such as how Sirius isn't one to grow close to another lightly, not in the way that someone can come to know him well enough that it might hurt.

                Is that it, then? Why Orion and Alphard hide? Is it really too dangerous to let someone else in that, if one does, it's best to keep the secret between the two and share it with no one else?

                Regulus pushes the rest of his food around on his plate with his fork. He…he's not willing to keep a secret like that himself, and he's thankful he knows well enough not to follow in their footsteps.

                "Regulus, are you all right?" Gideon pulls Regulus' plate away so the younger Black looks at him.

                "…just musing about the dangerous game my father and brother play," he thinks aloud. It doesn't occur to him that Gideon may take that as a euphemism for the abuse. Regulus is simply wandering through his thoughts, calmed by his newfound relief.

                Gideon's been a good sport this year. He hasn't taken it as a blow that Regulus was more careful about their public appearances. He doesn't know that Regulus fears spies in the halls that report back to Orion about every single move his sons make, because Regulus won't tell him.

                But they do seek refuge from time to time, right up until the last few days of the year, in the Clock Tower. It's dusty and decrepit and seemingly unsafe, so others rarely come here. The spot is perfect, though, for anyone looking to laugh and chat and be themselves, because the space isn't enclosed and the clock's chimes keep everything from echoing, even raucous laughter.

                They're laughing right now, even, sitting side by side on the rough wooden floor, because Gideon can't help but do a perfect imitation of Fabian's and Potter's ill-advised Valentine's invites for Meadowes and Evans, respectively. Better yet, Gideon huffs the way Evans had and mimes tossing his imaginary long tresses over his shoulder.

                Regulus laughs hard enough that he falls into Gideon's side, which in turn has Gideon doubled-over, guffawing. The slight snake rolls into Gideon's lap, and he's barely able to catch his breath as he stares up at Gideon hovering over him. "At least Fabian's went well," he reminds the twin.

                Gideon shrugs—an odd move when he's bent over—and scrunches his nose up. "Yes, well—Fabian's brooding is almost as bad as his preening when things go right."

                "'So either way, he's insufferable,'" Regulus says in time with Gideon.

                "Hey! I don't say that all that often."

                "No, you don't. Just several times a week ever since Meadowes gave your brother a chance."

                Gideon blushes. "Oh, Godric. I have, haven't I?"

                Regulus grins in response.

                Times like these feel right and wrong to Regulus. Wrong, because they're too good, they must belong to someone else's life. Right, because…well, because Gideon.

                He smirks as Gideon grows confused, judging by the squiggle that is his brow, over what else amuses Regulus at the moment.

                Gideon huffs, knowing he won't pull an answer from Regulus, but stays put, content with the view. "Back to real life for a moment—"

                Regulus scowls and closes his eyes. "Do we have to?"

                "It's just a few more years, Reg. Then—then you're free."

                He doesn't have to open his eyes to imagine the forlorn puppy look on Gideon's face. "But, first, I have three more summers ahead of me."

                "…yeah."

                The Clock Tower is silent save for the turning of the gears. Neither boy moves.

                "…listen, I know you can't write, but—is visiting a friend out of the question, too?"

                He sighs at the obvious answer to Gideon's question. Sirius sneaking out is one thing, because he's brave enough and has someplace to go. Regulus can't ask that of Gideon, he just can't.

                "…all right," Gideon says, shoulders sagging.

                Regulus' eye flick up to him, a quick frown pulling his mouth open into a gape. "Gideon, I—"

                Gideon doesn't frown. Eyes half lidded, mouth jerking up into a tiny smile—that's his tired-but-understanding expression. "I get it. I'm sorry for pushing."

                Regulus is halfway to stuttering out an apology when he freezes.

                Gideon's still bent over him, but it's his freckled hand that has Regulus' attention. That hand is halfway to the curl on the left side of Regulus' face, and it pauses. Gideon so clearly wants to wrap the curl around his finger, but he waits for permission because this isn't just tousling a mate's hair over something inconsequential.

                Whether Gideon comprehends his own desire, Regulus turns him down right away, hurriedly sitting up and nonchalantly running his own hand through his hair.

                The moment passes, neither of them says anything, and Regulus embraces the silence for the first time in his life.

                But that summer is filled with yelling and shouts and screams.

                Regulus doesn't know where to begin when he catalogues the "exchanges" his brother has with their parents.

                Maybe they are done letting Sirius run out behind their backs.

                Maybe they have missed all the Christmases and Easters having him within arm's length.

                Maybe they know, at a glance, what Sirius' course load from the past year means, even without him brazenly telling them.

                But Regulus goes in order, because that's the way his brain works.

                No sooner do he and Sirius come home than the front door slams shut and locks and Orion whirls on them. No, not on them—on Sirius.

                "Do you realize the disgrace I've faced because of you?!" he bellows in Sirius' face.

                "Hold on, let me guess which one," Sirius retorts.

                It's bold and deadly to answer like that, and Regulus can't help but gawk at his brother.

                Orion gnashes his teeth. "Twice. Two times! Potter made a scene at the Ministry, wondering why your mother and I refuse to let you visit your friend."

                The revelation is stunning but momentarily confusing until Regulus pieces together that he means James Potter's father, not Sirius' best mate himself. But now they know: The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

                Sirius shrugs. "It's cozy at their place."

                "I didn't need half the Ministry knowing that you were sneaking out to their home!" Orion snaps.

                "Then let me hang out with James openly."

                The request is a feather about to graze a primed Erumpent horn. Orion turns red in the face, as if he's already three sheets to the wind while trying to determine his reaction to the demand.

                When no answer comes, Sirius scarpers up to his room and Regulus reluctantly follows. But neither boy was dismissed, and they pay for that later in Orion's study, with fists and heavy tomes peeled from their father's bookshelf only to be lobbed their way. And they are expected not to dodge a single blow.

                Curt remarks earn automatic slaps this summer, and Regulus has his fair share for each time he looks away. Sometimes the slaps are true punches, but mostly they're slaps because those are less disruptive to Orion's and Walburga's day.

                The heated arguments return before the break's halfway gone, though. Walburga tells her sons in a clipped tone which classes they will take the coming year, and Sirius stops her right there.

                "No."

                Walburga narrows her eyes at him in the sitting room. She sits with perfect posture in the armchair across the coffee table while her sons sit on the sofa, Sirius leaning forward on his knees with his hands dangling in his open lap and Regulus attempting to sit as rigidly as possible in an imitation of their mother.

                Before she can question her hearing, Sirius shakes his head. "No," he repeats. "I got the necessary O.W.L.s. I'm going to be an Auror."

                The academic itinerary wrinkles in her crushing grip. "You will not."

                "I will."

                "No Black has been an Auror!"

                "Before know," he acknowledges with a shrug. "I'll be the first."

                "No Black has been an Auror!" she repeats. Her snarl is a good echo of her husband's.

                "Then maybe I shouldn't be a Black, if it matters so much to you."

                The brothers split apart the second they see the tip of her wand light up, Sirius jumping to his feet diagonally and Regulus clumsily crashing into a small drawer, catching a vase in time before it shatters and makes things even worse.

                Walburga Black has used her fists before, as well as an open palm, but she tends to leave those types of beatings to Orion. No, Walburga's punishment of choice always has been spells. The precise kind, the unseen kind, the excruciating kind.

                "Stay still," she hisses.

                Memories of trauma, of cuts that healed closed as soon as they were open but nevertheless kept on hurting, flood Regulus with adrenaline. He catches Sirius' eye, and his brother's determination is written all over his face:

                "The time to run is now."

                But—Regulus can't. He just can't. Even though this summer has been one of the worst, he knows he can survive. He can pull through. So why can't Sirius just realize that already?

                They can have whatever they want so long as their desires align with their parents'.

                …which never has been and never will be the case with Sirius.

                Sirius dodges their mother's blasts with efficiency and speed Regulus didn't know he possessed. He runs so fast to his room that his feet practically fly over the stairs, and there are crashing sounds and the window clatters open, and the house goes still.

                Regulus, who has remained in the sitting room somehow, looks between the white-hot fury on his mother's regal features and the hallway. After an eternity (two minutes) of nothing, he shuffles upstairs and peeks into Sirius' room.

                It isn't the way he remembers it. Sirius' room is an ocean of maroon and gold. His clothes—what little remains—are strewn about and torn, in the cases of some of the formalwear. There are pictures of scantily clad women postered to his bedroom walls, and it takes a heartbeat for Regulus to be stunned, seeing that they don't move…they're Muggle collectibles.

                There's nothing of importance left, Regulus is certain, even if he were to sift through the debris. Morbidly, he thinks, at least the window didn't shatter.

                Walburga approaches silently, and Regulus only knows so because she silently Charms Sirius' door to close, and the squelching sound means it's Sealed shut.

                She says nothing else to Regulus, but downstairs she howls like a madwoman and lobs more spells.

                Regulus can guess where she is when she finishes, because her final spell scorches the wall, and the acrid stench floats upstairs.

                Sirius Orion Black is no longer on the family tree.

                And, having so easily left Regulus behind, he is no longer Regulus' brother.

                That bond broke the moment Sirius ran without him.

                Regulus has no confirmation but can guess Sirius ran away to live with Potter. The stray thought joins him from time to time, when he's lonely in his room, when Gideon's old letters aren't enough to chase away the jealousy over his brother's—no, Sirius'—freedom.

                He plays it safe for the last month and a half. He's so quiet so much of the time that he nearly forgets the sound of his own voice.

                But, the day before they take him to the station, Orion and Walburga call him into the room with the Black family tree papering the walls. When he approaches, Walburga keeps her eyes glued to all the remaining faces, but Orion turns to his youngest (his only) with a…a relieved expression. He's almost smiling.

                It's not the smile he shares with Alphard, but it's a start.

                "Regulus, good," Orion utters, two words that rarely go in the same sentence. "Given…this summer's…tribulations, we wanted to check in with you."

                Regulus internally recoils. Did Sirius pull a prank on him and swap out their parents? "Father?" he prompts.

                "You've never had any qualms being a Black, have you?"

                It's a trap.

                But Regulus knows better than to fall for it.

                "Never, Father." Always, you arse.

                "You've seen the good lives your two cousins have."

                "I have, Father." Two? So Andromeda really doesn't count anymore just because she married a Muggle-born?

                "And you want the same, don't you?"

                Regulus' mask almost slips when his brain forces the memory of Gideon in the Clock Tower to the front of his mind. "Yes, Father," he lies (he doesn't know why it's a lie, but it certainly feels like one).

                "Good." Orion breathes a sigh of relief. "Keep up your studies, keep winning at Quidditch, and we'll have your life set for you by the time you graduate from Hogwarts."

                "Before," Walburga corrects.

                Both wizards turn to her. "Sorry, Walla?" Orion asks.

                "Before," she repeats, her eyes lingering on Bellatrix's portrait on the tree. "Before you graduate from Hogwarts."

                Orion drops his voice low, but Regulus hears him regardless. "Before? Are you certain? Bellatrix can't possibly talk him into—"

                "She's laying the groundwork," Walburga replies. "Rodolphus has known him longer, but she's climbed the ranks faster—" She comes to an abrupt stop, suddenly realizing Regulus is present. "You, leave. Make sure you're completely packed for tomorrow."

                Regulus obeys without question.

                He's left wondering what their discussion means, though. Why bring up Bellatrix and Rodolphus? Do they really do the same line of work? Regulus thinks that daft, even more so the idea that Bellatrix or Rodolphus might put in a good word for him at the company. Still, Bellatrix must be a hell of a witch to have earned such rights—

                His thoughts freeze when, the next day, The Daily Prophet reports a string of kidnappings and assaults by You-Know-Who's ever-expanding entourage.

                And witnesses describe someone who sounds an awful lot like Bellatrix.

                Regulus convinces himself that that's people's imagination at work. There's no way anyone in their family would let their views on blood purity carry them into the waiting arms of a madman. Certainly not someone as headstrong as Bellatrix—it's known that she made Rodolphus publicly grovel before she accepted his marriage proposal.

                But Orion and Walburga, if any of it's true, can't be thinking of such a future for Regulus. He's their youngest (only), and he's carrying on their names, so why risk throwing it all away to push an agenda that the Ministry likely will stop?

                Love, he thinks, has never existed in this household. But the air here is permeated with danger, and Regulus knows, if he's not careful, it will suffocate him to death.

                "He's all right, in case you're wondering."

                Regulus looks up to find Gideon walking up to him in that place of all places, the entrance courtyard, where the grass is green in the spring and the stone's cold as hell with it at one's back even in late September. "I wasn't," Regulus corrects. He closes the Potions book in his lap because Slughorn would love him even if Regulus' next potion curdles and because Gideon's come to join him.

                "'Course you were," Gideon retorts after lowering himself onto the ground with the corridor's outer wall at his back. He grabs Regulus' text before the Slytherin can protest. "You're on page one of chapter two, and I'm guessing it's supposed to be half read by tomorrow, yeah?"

                Regulus glowers at him. "Give it back."

                Gideon closes it and places it on his other side, out of reach. "You can afford to chat for a little while, Reg." He raises his eyebrows. It's the truth; fifth years and up have more study blocks because of the exams and subjects they face down the road.

                "…fine. But does it have to be about him?"

                "Thought it might be nice to hear from someone you actually like."

                Regulus rolls his eyes. "As if Lupin won't try to find me and explain. Or worse—Potter, come to gloat."

                Gideon purses his lips at the insults to his friends. "James wouldn't gloat. Not about this."

                Seeing Gideon remotely upset makes Regulus remorseful, he knows by the wave of guilt in his chest. He pulls up a knee and rests his arm on it. "…you say he's fine?"

                "Mostly, yeah. He gained half a stone just off James' mum's cooking alone," he adds with a chuckle.

                Regulus doesn't laugh. He knows he eats better and more regularly at the castle, especially since he became a Seeker.

                Gideon lets his laughter die down. "He won't talk about it, much. At least, not with me and Fab or Frank in the room. I'm guessing the other three know everything, though."

                "Did he guess Mother burned him off the family tree?"

                The Prewett pales. It's a sight every time, because Gideon paling makes his freckles stick out like Quaffles against an overcast sky. "That's—"

                He shrugs. "He's disinherited. They won't change their minds."                Gideon's frown deepens into a grimace, and Regulus hates the way he leans against him. "Are you…?"

                "I'm safe." "For now," a voice adds in his head. Much as he can't tell Gideon about his father and uncle possibly cavorting about, he can't voice his theories about Bellatrix being—what do they call them?—a Death Eater and the possibility of that same grim future lying in wait for him.

                It's late in the day but still early for dinner. They turn their heads as a soft glow emerges from down the hill, in the direction of the boathouse, as lights come on to conquer the incoming darkness. Light behind them, from the entrance hall, comes and goes as bodies shuffle inside and out.

                Gideon dwells on Regulus' words, and Regulus wonders what would be a better topic. Then—

                "Is it always going to be the case?"

                Something in his tone reminds Regulus of that day in the Clock Tower at the end of last year. Regulus' arms sprout goosebumps, but from excitement or fear he doesn't know.

                "If it comes to it, and lack of safety's no longer a doubt in your mind, you know you can run away to my home."

                "Running away takes courage."

                "Sirius didn't always have it, y'know."

                Now Regulus looks at him, though Gideon stares towards the steps leading to the boathouse. He turns his head with tremendous effort, as if scolding Regulus is his least favorite thing to do.

                "He didn't. We all saw the bruise on his arm after Christmas in first year. It looked as if someone still had their fingers around his arm."

                Regulus remembers that. Sirius had sampled the treacle tart before they were supposed to play host to Christmas dinner with both sides of the family coming. Walburga had yanked him away so fast that he'd gone limp in her grip.

                "James said something then. But Sirius brushed it off. Even the silent pleas Remus sent him didn't work. It took years for anything to penetrate."

                His throat seizes, hot and thick. "He was planning to run away all along," Regulus realizes.

                "At least for the past few years, yeah." Gideon studies him carefully. Then he drops his voice. "If you need to plan, I want to help. I have a bad feeling—worse than the thought of a Bludger ever knocking you off your broom—that you don't have these last three years ahead of you."

                "You worry too much," Regulus dismisses.

                Gideon sulks and twiddles his thumbs in his lap. "Is there such a thing as 'too much' when it comes to worrying about you?"

                "I'll be fine. I won't make the same mistakes Sirius or my father has."

                Gideon picks his head up, barely, and turns that pout on Regulus. He probably has his question primed on the tip of his tongue, why Regulus mentions his brother and father but not his mother. But he doesn't voice it, because he's frustrated with Regulus for making light of all this.

                Regulus gives him half a smile, because he's apologetic and hates that he can't let Gideon win. He reaches over with his free hand and lazily brushes Gideon's fringe aside, because it's hard to see those beautiful blue eyes when Gideon's hanging his head like this—

                —and he stops, his fingers threaded through Gideon's hair.

                For all Regulus knows to be careful, for all he doesn't know of love and the world, he knows he just fucked up right after he promised not to. The danger has lurked around him all this time in the form of Gideon's friendship, and now it's morphed upon Regulus' recognition of its true form.

                This danger—this love—will suffocate him and be the end of him…but, he thinks as Gideon nears him and nudges their noses together, if it's with Gideon, then it's one lesson he's willing to learn the hard way.

Oh, good Merlin. D8 So, it's been about 5 yrs? since I last wrote a Regideon, and WOW this got heavy real fast. Most of my other Regideons have been a little less Reg-centric and fall within the Maydayverse, my overall headcanon for the fandom, but I found I wanted there to be this linkage amongst the Black wizards, even if it's not fully explained. I warred with myself over ending this on Regulus' biggest "oh, shit" moment, but I quite like this, even though I'm toying with doing a part two to this (hence leaving it marked as a WIP on FFN & on AO3). I'm huge on the friends-turned-lovers trope, but it'd also been a while since I wrote such a slow build that I got maybe a little too cozy XD because my last longfic was back in September, the oneshot "bad blood" (although, with a glance, I see "The Sound of an Amorous Stranger" was also that month, so YAY for longfics! XD). I also haven't focused much on how Riu and Reg grew up in their household, so this was also a change of pace for me. Let's see, what else… Writing this coincided with cross-posting the first Oriolphard fic, "The Courtship of Alphard Black," to AO3 and to tumblr, and that was quite the stroll down Memory Lane, rereading that (esp considering that 2012 fic occurs well before Riu and Reg were born instead of in the Marauders' era like this fic). Also, there are a lot of allusions to canon even though this feels like an AU to me, and Gideon is a good egg. ;w; So, if you need more Regideon, please scour the Regideon tag on my HariPo fic tumblr (camelliacats), and also omg pls go read Morghen's "we will be the last ones standing" because I honestly consider that the ultimate Regideon fic. :3

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

[camelliacats]

The Lingering Scent of Basil

Another random oneshot.

Fic: "The Lingering Scent of Basil" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: Molly Weasley/Arthur Weasley, Ginny Weasley–Potter/Harry Potter, Teddy Lupin, Gideon Prewett/Regulus Arcturus Black, & the Weasley family cat, with a cameo from Fabian Prewett

Rating: K

Words: ~2,010

Additional info: romance, gen fic, slash, family, angst, fluff, Maydayverse, Marauder era, Next Gen era, 3rd person POV

Summary: When Ginny and Harry think about getting a pet, Molly tells of a pet the Weasley children had when they were little.

      Molly and Arthur sat at their kitchen table after a rather pleasant lunch. Arthur had the Prophet spread before him, and Molly was relaxing by knitting. Often she would bewitch her knitting needles to do the action themselves, but she had used less and less magic after the war to do what she'd once seen as menial tasks. Everything had come to mean so much more to her after the war.

      Disrupting the peace was the sound of the front door opening and closing and feet stomping just inside the vestibule. The married couple exchanged a look, for neither of them had been expecting anyone.

      "Hello?" Molly called out.

      "Hey, Mum!" Ginny called right before she entered the kitchen. She was still dressed in her Harpies jersey, but she'd changed into denims and pulled her hair back, so she didn't look as messy as she often did these days now that she played for Holyhead. "Oh, Dad, too."

      "What's the occasion?" Arthur asked, and, before he could have an answer, Harry entered with five-year-old Teddy in his arms. "Ah, Harry, Teddy. Good to see you two boys."

      "Hi, Grampa Weasley!" Teddy exclaimed.

      "Now, Teddy," Ginny began, "he's not your grandpa. Call him 'Uncle Arthur' or something."

      When Teddy pouted, Harry gave her a look, and Molly waved it off. "Don't worry about it, Ginny. We see enough of this child to call him one of our own. You're a Weasley like Victoire, aren't you, Teddy?" the matriarch said as she scooped Teddy up from Harry.

      "Yes, I am!" he said, and he shifted his turquoise hair to match the shade of Molly's tresses. He even started to show freckles…but, when his skin started to turn brown instead, he grunted and stuck to having red hair.

      "His powers are something else," Molly commented to Harry.

      "Tell me about it. It's not always fun taking the tyke into Muggle Britain." He ruffled Teddy's hair affectionately, though.

      "I repeat, what's the occasion?" Arthur asked as Ginny hugged her father.

      "Oh, well, I was wondering if you'd had lunch yet…," Ginny stated, a bit sheepish.

      "An hour ago, Ginny," her father remarked, and he laughed. "You should've told us you were coming."

      "It's no trouble to make something, Arthur," Molly said, and she put Teddy on his feet. "In fact—Teddy, would you like to help me?"

      "Yes, Grandmam Weasley!"

      Molly smiled at his words, and she busied herself as Ginny and Harry took their seats at the kitchen table.

      "So we were thinking that the house is too quiet," their daughter said of her home with Harry. Following the war, Harry had cleaned up and seized ownership of his parents' house in Godric's Hollow and moved into it. Ginny had moved in with him more than two years ago, and they had nearly skipped over their engagement and gone straight to the wedding, almost too busy to set a date because of Harry's heading the Auror Office and Ginny's playing Quidditch—not to mention they oftentimes took Teddy off Andromeda's hands.

      "That house, too quiet?" Molly asked with a snort. "Teddy is just another little Marauder, isn't he?"

      "Grandmam, what's a 'muhrawder'?" Teddy asked as he held a pan for her.

      "Your daddy was a Marauder, dear, along with your great-uncles James and Sirius." Molly looked over her shoulder at them. "You were saying?"

      "I think we should get a pet," Harry said. He leaned on the table. "It's been years since…Hedwig… And I think it'd be nice for us—plus, it would help to start teaching Teddy responsibility." Harry cupped his cheek in his palm. "I do miss Hedwig…"

      "So you want an owl?" Arthur prompted, his Prophet long forgotten.

      Harry shook his head. "No, that's bit much. I was eleven when I got Hedwig, anyway. But I was thinking a cat or a dog."

      "No dogs—too much maintenance," Ginny said.

      "All right, so I was thinking a cat," Harry amended after her interruption. He looked at Arthur and Molly. "Which I think should be fine. I mean, my mum and dad had one when I was little. Mum even said to Sirius in a letter that I got along with it and it got along with me."

      "And, when Harry mentioned that to me, it reminded me of something," Ginny commented. "Didn't we, when I was really little, have a cat or something?"

      Arthur looked to Molly, whose hands had stopped, rested on the counter. He answered for his wife. "Yes, yes, we did, Ginny… Her name was Basil."

      "Ah, I knew I remembered her! She was this light brown color…," Ginny began explaining to Harry.

      "She was cinnamon-colored with bright green eyes," Molly corrected, and she willed her hands to move a pan of melted butter so that the contents didn't burn.

      The others were quiet, and the sizzling sound of butter filled the silence. Eventually Teddy began humming, and Molly found her voice again.

      "She was a sweet thing, and she had belonged to Gideon," she announced to the empty quiet. Arthur knew all that she was about to say and all that she was thinking and recalling, but she had a feeling that Ginny and Harry were a bit surprised. "He asked us to take care of her before he and Fabian went on…their final mission." She cracked a smile, her eyes dry, as she caught her reflection in the glass of the window above the kitchen sink. Funny how, in the light, she thought her reflection looked decades younger.

      "We had her until I was six," Ginny said quietly to her love. "It was kind of sudden when she went…"

      Molly said nothing, though she agreed with her daughter. However, Basil… Honestly, she'd probably just been unable to carry on any longer without her adoptive fathers. That was right—fathers. And Molly couldn't forget learning about Basil.

      "Isn't she great? She's so cuddly," Gideon had said back when they were barely adults. "Regulus got her for me, for my birthday."

      Molly had peered into the living room, smiling at how sheepish Regulus Black had looked at the mention of his name in such an affectionate way.

      "Her name's Basil, and she's all mine," Gideon had said with a laugh. He'd really loved the kitten, and it was another thing that Molly had been glad to see. Up until Gideon had formed a friendship and subsequent relationship with Regulus during his and Fabian's seventh year, Molly had wondered if Gideon spending too much time with Fabian had suffocated the twin a bit. But Regulus had done a lot to shape the Gideon that Molly now saw. Gideon had a flat, a kitten, a love—and they were all his.

      Molly had scratched the kitten's ear once Basil had hopped onto the counter. "Oh, my! She's awfully friendly, Gid…"

      Gideon had pulled a face. "Oh, bloody…! Regulus, see what you did! Basil just won't stay off the counter now…!" Gideon had given his sister an apologetic look. "He's always feeding her on the counter in the mornings, even though he knows it drives me nutters…"

      Molly had tittered lightly, and she had peeked into the living room again. Though Regulus hadn't joined them in the kitchen during Molly's visit, he at least had felt relaxed enough to laugh at Gideon's bickering. And all Molly could think was that Regulus had been good for Gideon, and Gideon had been good for Regulus, too.

      Bill and Charlie had loved Basil, as well, when they had visited with their Uncle Gid. But Molly had never thought of Basil being separated from Gideon until he and Fabian had turned up three years later at the Burrow's doorstep, Fabian looking guilty and Gideon looking quite upset.

      "Please, you've got to take her," Gideon had said. "We have to go away, and I don't want her to be alone. Despite what Fabian says, she can't fend for herself," he had added with a sharp look to his twin.

      "I didn't mean to say—" Fabian had tried.

      "No, no, it's fine," Molly had said, and Arthur had joined them at the door and taken Basil from Gideon. "Just be safe, Fab, Gid."

      "We will be," Gideon had said, and they'd grinned like mirrors before kissing either of their older sister's cheeks and departing.

      Of course, Molly had not seen them after that.

      Basil at first had seemed merely unaccustomed to her new surroundings. It had taken some effort to train her, but the children had been willing to help out with her as long as they could keep her. "Uncle Gid and Uncle Reg wouldn't want her coat to go unbrushed," Bill and Charlie had said on occasion. And they had taken very good care of her, even as the memory of "Uncle Reg" began to slip from their minds despite their having the most interaction with Regulus when he'd been with Gideon.

      But Molly knew, as the years had passed, that Basil was happy with them but not content.

      Often Basil had sat by the window in the living room, staring outside. Molly had initially thought that Basil had been watching insects flitting about or birds flying by, but she had later begun to realize that Basil had been waiting for Gideon and Regulus to come get her. Or maybe Basil had been looking for either one of them—as long as one came.

      Once, Molly had found Basil curled up on the couch with the chain of a locket in her mouth. The witch had worried that the cat would hurt herself, but Basil had been asleep, just cuddling the item. Molly had thought it odd that the cat would do such a thing, but then she'd seen that Basil had managed to get it open. It was Molly's locket that held a photo of each of her twin brothers.

      Molly's cause for concern, though, came the year that Basil disappeared. Molly had heard that cats often hid when they parted so that they retained their dignity, but Basil had acted strange right up until she'd left.

      Basil had taken to making off with Molly's locket enough times that Molly had given in and attached the locket to Basil's collar. That had made Basil happy for a while. But then she would go out and not return for hours; when she did return, she would carry a cigarette butt in her mouth.

      Their first reaction was to freak and hope she wasn't eating them. But Arthur and Molly both had kept an eye on her, and they had never seen her eat them. They had made sure their children understood not to touch Basil's catch, but, after taking the cigarette butts away hundreds of times, they had given up and written it off as a peculiarity of Basil's.

      Then one day she went out and didn't come back. Just as Gideon and Fabian had.

      Molly and Arthur had had one hell of a time consoling their children about the cat, but Molly had felt rather lost herself. Basil had been the last part of Gideon she still had…a memory of happiness that could come from what were supposed to be warring sides, because she had heard—a long time ago—that Regulus had been one of those hooded wizards…

      But the memory Molly had in mind would always be of her in the kitchen with Gideon, Basil on the counter, Gideon bickering about Regulus' bad cat habits, and Regulus laughing as though nothing could've broken their little family. Even though something had.

      Coming out of her reverie, Molly sniffled and sniffed—and realized she had burned the butter. She pursed her lips and remedied her mess, and Teddy tugged on her apron and hugged her leg without saying anything.

      "Mum?" Ginny asked, concerned.

      "I think a cat sounds lovely, dear. Just lovely." Stuffing one hand in her skirt pocket, Molly thumbed a closed locket on an old chain…and it just felt out of place when not on Basil's collar.

I can't believe… -.- Yeah. Heavy. But I wanted to do something for Basil… :'S *we miss you, Basil*

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

2017 note: Honestly, 5yrs later, I can't recall if Mor gave Regideon Basil just bc in "we will be the last ones standing" or if it originally was her intention that Basil would become the Weasley family cat—at least, it inspired me to write Basil as such. Anyway, I deeply love this story, and I think it's interesting to write your ships thru the eyes of other characters, bittersweet tho it may be.

2023 update: In the course of reviewing my canon for the Maydayverse (esp now that I'm working on the Prewetts-centric Fortune Favors the Brave), I was gathering notes and rereading a few things…and a few minor but glaring things jumped out at me here, so they have been fixed! Nothing that would impact the storyline, just to fix the timeline, primarily. :D Feel free to PM me or message me on tumblr if you're curious—and remember to support me and my works with reviews/comments and/or a reblog (available on camelliacats)~

[camelliacats]

you're nobody until somebody loves you (141-150/∞)

100-word drabbles for a range of ships. *Requests always welcome! Repeats allowed~*

Chapters 141-150: [FFN] [AO3] | ←   → | start from the beginning

Pairings/Characters: Zacharias Smith/Justin Finch–Fletchley, Lily Luna Potter/Minerva McGonagall, Bellatrix Lestrange/Molly Weasley, Gideon Prewett/Regulus Arcturus Black, Lily Evans/Voldemort, Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger, Lily Evans/Sirius Black, Rabastan Lestrange/James Potter, Dean Thomas/Parvati Patil, & Oliver Wood/Percy Weasley

Rating: K

Words: 1,000 collectively

Additional info: romance, slash, femslash, cross gen, angst, fluff, Marauder era, Harry's era, Next Gen era, 2nd person POV, 3rd person POV

Summary: Song by Sammy Davis, Jr., 100-word drabbles by mew. So is unrequited love always unrequited? | Various pairings, eras, etc. Includes het, slash, femslash, cross-gen, next-gen, but nothing too bad. Read it all or only what you like!

141: ZachariasJustin

                He's sweet.

                "I'm Justin—that's Hannah and Ernie," he introduces when you join everyone for the first time at the Hufflepuff table. You're the last one Sorted, but it doesn't feel that way with a friend like Justin.

                He's soft.

                "If you really hate the D.A., I won't make you join us." He frowns when he says this, but he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. You're fifteen, and you don't want to let that hand go.

                He's stubborn.

                After the battle, he finds you and kisses you because he doesn't care that you ran—he cares that you lived.

142: LilylunaMinerva

                Lily sees in her bravery she thinks skipped a generation in her own family.

                James is all kindness and cockiness, but he can't admit he graduated without confessing to the man he loved.

                Al is smart but looking for peace and quiet, not fame and fortune, and knows he'd have been content in Hufflepuff.

                Then there is Lily, another in a sea of Weasley faces.

                She broaches this over tea one afternoon, but McGonagall corrects her that no, Lily is brash but unforgettable.

                Lily takes that as the hope to ask for tea—and more—in the years to come.

143: BellatrixMolly

                She had a family because she couldn't keep waiting for Bellatrix. It's a target that Bellatrix, even in her psychosis, won't stop hunting.

                Every time she patrols for the Dark Lord, Bellatrix spies someone that reminds her of Molly, and it's a cruel reminder. Of what Bellatrix couldn't give her, of how Molly pulled away until Rodolphus seemed passable, of a fascination that's not obsession just the only time she's felt love, loathe as she is to admit it.

                Bellatrix feels her heart shatter before Molly's wand, but she can hold on if only Molly will put her back together.

144: GideonRegulus

                It's not the curiosity of him being Sirius' younger brother.

                It's not that, for being related to Sirius, Regulus has stuck closer to family traditions than Sirius has.

                It's not the draw of him being renowned at school for his Quidditch skills, although Gideon would be lying if he said he didn't find that attractive.

                It's the times he snatches Regulus' attention in the corridors, locking eyes for a few heartbeats. Gideon's given the chance then to read him and find that, despite how hard Regulus tries to hide it, he isn't dead on the inside.

                And that's a start.

145: LilyVoldemort

                She had a choice that night. By the time the Dark Lord made it up the stairs, she knew her old life lay dead in his wake. So, if she could make a barter…

                "You're scared of my child," she reminded Voldemort.

                He narrowed his eyes. They were eerily red, but his face was otherwise handsome.

                "Doesn't the magic intrigue you? Take us with you instead." Lily and Harry were a two-for-one deal.

                And Tom Riddle took that gambit.

                (Lily just never thought saving her life would have her reaping the benefits of ruling the Wizarding world at his side.)

146: FleurHermione

                Across the courtyard, beyond the azure-clad shoulders of her friends, Fleur spied her, each and every time.

                The bushy brown hair. The worried wrinkle between her eyebrows as she poured over something she rarely didn't understand in her texts. The exasperated smile she gave when her two best mates were around. The secret smile she wore when a passing daydream snatched her up.

                Fleur had almost worked up the courage to ask Hermione, the cute-as-a-baby-unicorn thing that she was, to the Yule Ball when Viktor's friendship began to work—then he, not Fleur, was the next to snatch her up.

147: LilySirius

                "You're really never going to give Prongs a chance, are you?"

                Lily shrugged as she and Marlene plaited Sirius' hair in the common room. While she didn't understand the boys' nicknames for each other, she knew he meant James. "Nah. He's an okay bloke at times, just…" Lily wiggled her fingers dismissively, earning a snort from Marlene.

                "I see," Sirius thought aloud.

                "What do you see?" Lily asked. Marlene got bored and shoved the rest of his tresses into Lily's hands before leaving.

                Sirius chuckled and leaned against her legs, reaching up to tug one of Lily's hands into his.

148: RabastanJames

                He knew Potter spotted him the instant the Chaser's head swiveled his way. Rabastan grimaced. It was one thing to look; it was another to grab the younger wizard's attention.

                Rabastan had just turned on his heel to leave the pitch when Potter pulled up short behind him, dropped off his broom, and jogged the rest of the way to fall into step beside him. Rabastan huffed but ignored him.

                Potter grinned. "Didn't know I had any fans."

                "You don't."

                Potter raised his eyebrows, and his spectacles fell down his nose, eyes appraising. "…mind if I become one of yours?"

149: DeanParvati

                Those rare moments that find them in the common room, detached from their best mates' hips, are moments of commiseration.

                Parvati shakes her head. "I can't believe Seamus picked a fight with Lav. About Quidditch, no less."

                Dean opens his mouth but silently acquiesces, because Seamus is likely to do that without thinking of the consequences, and it's known that Lavender's a closet fan. He offers up a smile. "They're…opinionated," he says.

                Parvati guffaws and falls into him on the couch. "I think you mean 'bombastic'…!"

                He laughs, too, nervously; it's nice when Parvati comes to him for consolation….

150: OliverPercy

                "I have a lot riding on your final match, Oliver. You've got to win tomorrow."

                "Percy, just change already and get to bed—you're keeping everyone up. Don't gnash your teeth at me. I didn't make you place that bet with Clearwater."

                "Don't you sigh at me! It's just something Penny and I—get heated about. …oh, who am I kidding? That's what our relationship is nowadays. Gripes about Quidditch bets."

                "Percy…"

                "What?"

                "…make a bet with me, too."

                "What?! No, why?"

                "If I win for you, then I'll tell you something good. I promise. Goodnight, Percy."

                "? …goodnight, Oliver."

Remarks for—

Ch142: Requested by Guest on FFN. Considering one of my fav Lilu ships is Remlilu (her with Remus), I approached this quite happily since age gaps don't intimidate me. Deffo something of a crush on Lilu's side…but maybe not, considering that tiny opening at the end? ;)

Ch143: Requested by HereIam101 on FFN, who wanted this to be during the war or post-war with Bellatrix living, hence the final line here. When the final movie went the extra mile and had Molly literally shatter her to pieces, I always thought it was over-the-top…and yet (Killing Curse aside) it makes me wonder if Bellatrix could have a Humpty Dumpty moment, *lol*. Ahh, that'd be interesting to explore…

Ch145: Requested by Guest on FFN. Definitely have never considered this ship before, but this premise intrigues me. If Lily could've been savvy enough and Voldy curious enough, this would've made for quite the story, *LOL*. That is, of course, if he were willing to set aside her lineage the way he set aside his own.

Ch147: Requested by Guest on FFN. Ahhh, I love moments like these, where one charrie's answer isn't words but an action. -w- It's been years since I last wrote them, but I quite like the premise here. The addition of Marlene was purely for my own entertainment. XD Ty, Guest, for continuing to review as well as request! :3

Ch148: XD That one-liner sure feels like a James line if I've ever read one. Ahhh, I miss RabJames. ;w; Need to write more for them, *LOL*.

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

And if you want to support ynusly, please swing by its FFN and AO3 versions and consider liking and reblogging these posts on my HariPo fic tumblr!