𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. what once was

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VIII —— what once was


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          FIANNA DOESN'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY — but then, what can you say to that? She tries to place herself in his shoes, imagine everything that he's feeling... But she doesn't even know where to start. From what she's heard about Death Eaters, it's a mindset that causes them to join the group — they'll believe that purebloods are superior, or they'll have a disdain for muggleborns, and quickly they'll become radicalised by friends with similar ethics, until they're a fire-breathing, devil-horn-wearing monster. She supposes it's the same as her brother being in the Order; his friends believed in one thing, and they all encouraged each other to join, to fight for what they believed in. But to decide against that, after being involved? She cannot understand the mental toll that must be on Regulus.

She looks across at him, a desperately miserable look washed across his face, and she thinks, this boy's in the trenches. He turns his glance away, as if trying to mask how upset he is, perhaps embarrassed by his revelation and her dead silence. Hesitantly, Fianna's lips part.

"What... happened?" she says.

Regulus looks at her oddly. "I don't know what you mean."

"Well, I know I don't really know you, but you must've strongly believed in this at some point," says Fianna, still feeling a rush of nervousness, trying to walk through why someone would decide against a decision this massive. Voldemort doesn't let people quit, does he? That mark's for life. "What... happened...?"

He goes quiet for a minute. "I... I can't say."

Fianna frowns. "You told me you didn't want to be a Death Eater, but now you're having a problem with confidentiality—?"

"No, I mean... what if someone hears?"

She pauses, and her head turns from side to side, at the deserted bathroom.

"... Who?"

"You never know," says Regulus.

"But you just said that you—?"

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