The Story of Regulus Black - Years 5-7

CV. Fair

Chapter Notes: all italicized dialogue in the hospital wing is being spoken in French

Blood burst beneath his fist. Bone cracked and echoed inside of his ears. Fingers were digging into his skin, trying desperately to tear him away. His vision was a sea of red - of blood and anger.

His head was full of nothing but a violent haze.

The mattress sank beneath Regulus's weight. The foam molded to Regulus's touch as he gripped the edges. His breathing was heavy as he bowed his head and rested his chin against his chest. The room was dark as he closed his eyes and tried to ground himself from the high that was rushing through his veins. His body ached for Barty's touch, for the simplest brush of skin against skin or a tight embrace that Regulus knew he craved.

However Barty wasn't there. Regulus was alone. He wasn't sure if he necessarily preferred it that way.

Regulus sighed and leaned his head back. He stared into the darkness above him and waited. He didn't know what he was waiting for. He didn't know what he was expecting. Perhaps he was waiting for a sign, for some invisible force to tell him what to do to keep his anxieties from eating him alive. Perhaps he wasn't waiting for anything at all.

He didn't know what was going to come of what Barty had done. He didn't know what sort of punishments Barty was going to face. He didn't even know if he was going to see Barty again between that moment and the moment that they returned to Hogwarts. For, as Professor McGonagall had made quite clear, being sent back to Hogwarts was certainly a strong possibility for Barty.

Regulus hoped that wasn't the case. Perhaps he was simply being selfish. Maybe the whole reason he wanted Barty to stay exactly where he was was simply so that Regulus wouldn't have to be alone. Maybe he only wanted Barty to stay at the Beauxbatons so that he wouldn't be stuck with nothing but the thoughts that plagued the darkest corners of his mind. Perhaps Regulus was only thinking about himself and what he wanted.

Though, under the circumstances, he figured that he had every right for selfishness.

He breathed something akin to another sigh and shut his eyes once again. Regulus didn't know what he wanted. He didn't know if he wanted Barty to stay or go. He didn't know if he wanted to look Barty in the eye or refuse his gaze for the rest of their lives. He didn't know if he wanted to kiss him or hit him or hug him or scream at him until his throat had torn itself apart. He simply didn't know and perhaps that only fueled the frustration that had been festering in the pit of his stomach since that very morning.

Perhaps that was what he was waiting for. The answer to a question that he still had yet to ask; what did he want?

He figured that there wasn't much of a point in trying to figure it out. After all, no amount of thought or will could undo what Barty had done. Unless, of course, he magically came into ownership of a Time-Turner. However he figured that stopping Barty from giving Christian something that perhaps he deserved all along would be at the bottom of the list of things that he would change.

Taking back what he had said to Professor McGonagall about the incident was quite out of the question as well.

He hadn't had much to say. She had far too many questions that Regulus didn't have the answer to. She had pushed and pried and tried to maneuver her way into a straight answer that Regulus was far too practiced at avoiding. He had told her that he didn't know why Barty had done what he had. He didn't know what Christian had done to provoke it. He wasn't sure if there had been any provocation at all. He had lied and lied and lied through his teeth because he had assumed that the worst thing Barty would receive would be a detention.