He's not sure if it makes him feel better or worse that when the doors to the Headmaster's office open, Regulus finds himself faced with Snape, Mulciber and Avery. Better, he decides, even though his steps falter for half a heartbeat. If he's going to be royal fucked over he fully intends to take them all down with him.
"Mr. Black," Dumbledore is standing with his back to Regulus, feeding something that might be fish to a rather intimidating looking phoenix. "I'm glad you could join us," as though he had a choice. "Please, take a seat."
He doesn't speak, taking the only free chair available in front of the headmaster's desk. He can feel the other three boys watching him the whole time, but he doesn't look back until he's seated, and even then only briefly. Only long enough to catch the smug look on Snape's face.
This is not going to be going well for him then.
"I expect your aware that Mary Macdonald was attacked a week ago?" Dumbledore finally turns around, face soft, almost smiling. Regulus has never particularly liked holding his gaze.
He nods and then, when it feels like Dumbledore is waiting for more; "Yes sir, I'm aware."
"Ms. Macdonald believes that these three boys were the ones to attack her," he waves almost casually at the group of Slytherins beside Regulus. "But they claim to have been in their dorm room and alas, their spell histories do not appear to match Mary's testimony."
It is work for Regulus not to react to that, because there is no way that Barty cast all those Imperius's. He doubts Mulciber or Avery have the capability for that kind of advance magic so it must of been Snape. Which means that he either wiped his wand or Barty was stupid enough to let him cast using his. Which Regulus is loathed to admit, is a possibility.
"It is our belief," Dumbledore goes on. "That Mary Macdonald has had her memory tampered with."
Once again, Regulus suppresses his reaction. Staring blankly back at Dumbledore, waiting for more. But no more comes. The room is submerged in silence, the only noise that of Avery fidgeting in the seat next to him.
Eventually Regulus clears his throat. "I'm sorry professor, but what does this have to do with me?"
Dumbledore smiles mildly at him. "Mr. Snape claims that you were rather upset about the way that Mary Macdonald spoke to your friend in the corridor that day. That he saw you hovering around the Gryffindor common room after supper."
Regulus resists the urge to roll his eyes. "I see," he says coldly, the kind expression remaining on Dumbledore's face.
"Your roommates claim you were out that evening, though they couldn't tell me where."
Oh.
That isn't good.
He knows they probably thought they were doing him a favour, keeping him away from the scene of the crime. Not realizing they were robbing him of an alibi. Not realizing that he needed one.
"So tell me, Mr. Black, where were you, the night of Mary Macdonald's attack?"
Regulus almost laughs.
He can't tell him of course, doesn't trust him, certainly doesn't trust Avery or Mulciber or Snape. Snape who somehow knew that Regulus wouldn't be able to answer this question, which makes something uneasy crawl into the pit of his stomach.
He can't tell them that he'd spent that night cuddling Jame bloody Potter.
"I was in the astronomy tower," he hears himself say. Avery snorts.
"The astronomy tower?" Dumbledore repeats, eyebrow raised. "Any reason in particular?"
Regulus grits his teeth. "Stargazing."
Dumbledore makes an "ah" shape with his mouth. "Alone?"
"Alone."
"I see. Well, in that case, may I have your wand?"
Regulus blinks back at him. "Sir?"
"Just as a way to clear your name, confirm that you had nothing to do with this."
Regulus doesn't know what Snape and his band of baboons did to keep their wands clean, but he knows that he hasn't done anything. Meaning that his Legilimens is going to show right up.
"No."
Dumbledore arches his brow. "No?"
"With all due respect sir," Regulus goes on with all the spoiled brat indignation he can muster. "In order to check a minors wand you require the permission of their parent or guardian or a warrant from the Ministry."
"What?!" Mulciber squawks indignantly. And out of the corner of his eye Regulus thinks he sees Snape frown as well. Apparently they were unaware of that rule. It's a small victory, not enough to get Regulus off the hook, but enough to buy him time at least.
Dumbledore has gone silent again, eyes unwaveringly on Regulus. He wonders if this usually works for him—if he just waits students out, until they can't take the pressure anymore. If so, he'll be sorely disappointed. Regulus has spent far too much time in Walburga's house to be intimidated by a staring contest. Even if it is with Albus Dumbledore.
Eventually, the older man smiles, sending a chill down Regulus's spine. "Mr. Snape, Avery, Mulciber, you're free to return to your dormitory."
Regulus isn't proud of the spike of fear that shoots through his chest right then. Not that he trusted any of them to have his back, but the idea of being left alone in this office makes him nervous.
As the other boys shuffle out of their seats and towards the door he tries to focus on the feel of his wand against his skin, as though he would stand any chance against Albus Dumbledore. Still. It helps knowing it's there.
Eventually, the door closes, and they're alone.
Something isn't quite right about this—the timing, the lack of parents, Dumbledore sending the others away. It makes Regulus's skin itch.
"I was wondering," Dumbledore goes on mildly. "If your answer might change now that we're alone?"
Regulus stares back at him flatly, even though he can feel his pulse beating out of the side of his neck. "Just to clarify," his tone sounds especially posh, "those three have all been identified by the victim, but I'm the one you're questioning?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkle. "They all have alibis."
"Yes. Each other. You don't find that suspicious?"
Dumbledore holds his gaze and then, after an extended silence, shrugs. "Perhaps, but I'd still like to know where you were that night, and why you're so reluctant to hand over your wand?"
"I told you where I was," Regulus replies, stubbornly ignoring the second question.
"In the astronomy tower, stargazing?"
Regulus grits his teeth, hands curling around the arms of his chair. He doesn't want to be here. He feels trapped. He feels small.
"Yes," he grinds out.
"But no one can confirm that?"
"No."
"While Mr. Snape can confirm that you were angry at Ms. Macdonald, and waiting around her dormitory?"
It's the look in his eyes that makes it sink in. That makes Regulus realize what's really going on. Realize that Dumbledore wants him to be guilty.
"Snape can confirm," he repeats, trying to keep his voice steady, "Snape who has been accused of being involved in the attack. Do you not think that gives him an ulterior motive here?"
Another long pause. Another shrug.
"I have to tell you, these allegation are quite serious," the older man goes on.
None of this is right. Regulus knows that. Eyes bouncing around the dark office, looking for what he doesn't know, but suddenly feeling surrounded.
"This isn't about Mary Macdonald, is it?" he finds himself saying, eyes returning to Dumbledore's eerily calm face. "This is about the war."
Dumbledore smiles. It doesn't feel friendly. "Are you aware of what your parents have been up to recently?"
"No," he's not even sure if it's a lie.
Dumbledore leans forward across his desk, not aggressively, but their increased proximity does little to quell Regulus's growing anxiety. "I don't believe that. Just like I don't believe that you were in the astronomy tower the night Mary Macdonald was attacked."
"I had nothing to do with that."
"I'm afraid it's looking more and more like you can't prove it."
Okay,
Reg tries to steady himself.
Okay. There has to be a way out of this.
Think.
You're clever. You can do this.
Just think.
"Are you threatening to expel me? Is that it?" he is proud that his voice doesn't shake as badly as his hands have started to.
"For an unforgivable? A violent attack on a student? Expulsion is the least of your worries Mr. Black. The Ministry has already expressed their desire to be involved. They're desperate for the chance to punish someone after the attacks last year and over the summer. They want someone to make an example of."
Regulus swallows with difficulty but refuses to be intimidated. He has friends at the Ministry. Or—well—he has whatever Lucius and Roldolphus are. Has his father's old colleagues. They'll help him won't they?
"I was under the impression you didn't have much pull at the Ministry these days," is the closest he'll come to saying any of that out loud.
Something dark flashes in Dumbledore's blue eyes but when he speaks his tone remains light. "I have enough. I assure you."
Regulus doesn't know if that's true. He worries it might be.
"What do you want from me?" he feels hopelessly outgunned. He should have seen this coming, he should have known he couldn't just come back to school with the Dark Mark on his arm and pretend like he was just any other student. Dumbledore isn't just his headmaster anymore. He's an advisory.
"I want you to keep me informed on the actions of your parents, who they see, where they go, what they get up to," he opens his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm afraid we've rather fallen out of touch."
Regulus's nails are digging into his chair, trying to get a hold of his swirling thoughts. Strangely, he feels bad, though not for himself. For James. Because he knows that James would never believe Dumbledore to be capable of such a dirty play. Regulus is less surprised.
"You want me to be—what—a spy?"
His eyes dance in the firelight. "If you'd like."
A bitter laugh leaves Regulus's mouth. "Mary Macdonald know you're using her attack as a bargaining chip?"
"Come now Regulus," he almost flinches at the sound of his name coming out of Dumbledore's mouth. Somehow he manages to make it sound like a threat. "Lets not pretend that you care about Mary Macdonald."
Regulus glares back at him.
No,
he thinks.
Lets not.
"I am giving you an opportunity here," the old man goes on, as though it's as simple as that. "Will you work with me?"
Me.
Not us.
Not "the greater good."
Me.
"No," the word is out of his mouth before he's even really thought it through. He should probably be more strategic about this. It's an opportunity to switch sides, not something he'd ever thought he would have. But he doesn't like being bullied. Doesn't trust Dumbledore to keep him safe. To give a shit about him when things inevitably get messy and dangerous.
Dumbledore arches his brow. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. Can I go now?" his voice is sharp, his whole body trembling.
After a long look, Dumbledore nods. "I'm sure we'll be seeing one another again soon."
Regulus doesn't bother responding, too anxious to get out of that office, hating that in order to do it he has to turn his back on the old man. It's not until he's in the stairwell that he realizes how badly he's sweating.
Fuck.
He hopes it's a bluff, that Dumbledore wouldn't really go through the hassle of trying to pin Macdonald's attack on him. Of trying to turn it into some big deal.
He hopes.
Fuck.
He nearly jumps out of his skin when he steps into the corridor outside the Headmaster's office and feels fingers wrap around his wrist. Disembodied fingers.
"Jesus Christ Ja—"
"Shh," the half-invisible boy hisses, and Regulus is just shaken enough that he doesn't argue. "Snape is waiting for you around the corner," James whispers.
Regulus looks up ahead as if he'd be able to see him.
Great. An ambush. That's just what he needs right now.
James lifts his arm, revealing himself more fully, and beckoning for Regulus to join him. The younger boy gives him a skeptical look.
"We're not going to fit."
"I'll crouch."
Regulus rolls his eyes but doesn't argue further. Doesn't have the energy. James does crouch, practically folding himself around Regulus as the move down the hallway under the invisibility cloak, breath hot on the back of Regulus's neck, arms warm over his shoulders.
Snape is, of course, waiting around the corner, leaning against the wall, wand twirling between his fingers. Maybe Regulus had underestimated Snape's friendship with Mulciber. He'd been pretty confident that Snape would let his goon take the fall for them. Apparently he'd made a mistake.
James nudges him around the next corner and Regulus doesn't need to ask where he's leading them, though part of him wants to protest. He's not sure he can deal with James right now. Not sure he knows where James falls in all this. Especially when there's the possibility that McGonagall knows about them. A possibility she might tell Dumbledore, give him something else to use against Regulus.
The minute they cross the threshold of the Come and Go Room Regulus pulls away from James—away from his touch and his heat and his smell and all the rest of it. All the things that cloud his judgement. Make him weak. He's still shaking, he realizes, and he prays that somehow James didn't notice.
"Reg?" the other boy asks eventually.
And of all the things Regulus should say: go away. Leave me alone. I don't want you here.
"You came back?" is what comes out of his mouth.
"Of course."
Of course. As if he would ever do anything else. James Potter always comes back. So fucking sweet he makes Regulus's teeth ache. He wants to hate it. It'd be so much easier if he could hate it.
Regulus is thrumming his fingers on the back of the couch, staring at the far wall, trying to figure out what he should do. He could write to his mother, to Narcissa, to Bellatrix. For once in his life they might actually be of help. Though he isn't at all confident that Dumbledore won't check his mail, or that he'll like the help his family wants to give him.
"Reg?" James says again, sounding closer. "What's happened?"
And then there's this.
James.
James bloody Potter.
The boy he's been trying so desperately to distance himself from. For both their sakes. Regulus isn't sure he can stand watching James fall out of love with him, and he'd been certain that he'd started. That James was growing tired of him. Until today when James tracked him down practically in tears, begging to be enough. Which was heartbreaking and confusing and dangerous all rolled into one.
Regulus squeezes his eyes shut.
He doesn't want to hurt James.
But it's inevitable at this point.
No matter what he does.
He hears footsteps and when he opens his eyes again James is facing him, full of concern. Regulus reaches out, as weak as always, reaches out and grabs James's wrists, his waist, his shoulders. Like he's building him with his hands, confirming that he's there and real and something that Regulus can have if he wants.
Because he does doesn't he?
Want him?
Love him?
Hate him?
A huff of laughter forces its way out of his struggling lungs. He doesn't think it's ever like this in the stories. Love. The prince and the princess stand next to one another and there's no question that they belong together. That it's right. That it will make them happy. All Regulus has is questions. All Regulus has is the deep feeling of wrongness in his stomach every time James looks at him like he's important.
"Regulus," James says softly—sweetly. He grabs Regulus's wrists, stilling his hands where they are, cradling James's face.
He needs to learn not to give everything away, Regulus thinks as he stares up into the older boy's eyes, which are all feeling. All heart. James Potter walks through life without any armour on and one of these days it's going to get him killed. Just the thought sends a shiver through Regulus's body.
"You came back," he croaks again, which is still not what he wants to say and he doesn't know why that keeps happening. All he knows is that he's been ignoring James for days and then the first time they speak he gets dragged to the Headmaster's office and still, for some reason, James is here. Here waiting for him. Even though Regulus has shown him in every way that he doesn't deserve it.
"I told you I would," James gives his wrists a light squeeze.
"I know," he doesn't know how to explain to James that he never takes anyone at their word. Doesn't know how to.
They just keep standing there, holding one another, looking at one another. Regulus focuses on James's face instead of everything else going on inside him. There are finger smudges on his glasses—there always are—flecks of gold in his eyes, barely there freckles on the bridge of his slightly crooked nose. Regulus has the sudden urge to be able to paint the Muggle way—he wants to stare at this face for hours, for days, for weeks. Wants to figure out what shade of pink his lips are, wants to draw his smile just right, commit his dimples to memory. He wants to take his time. Wants to make James Potter his life's work.
A stupid useless fantasy.
Eventually James sighs, pulling Regulus's hands gently from his face but not letting go of his wrists, tugging Regulus towards the couch. When they're sitting James turns to him, expectantly.
"I can do this all night you know, it's not like I'm gonna get any sleep anyway," James says it with a half-hearted smile but Regulus suddenly notices the heavy bags under James's eyes which are slightly bloodshot, his hair more of a disaster than usual.
"You're not sleeping?" he finds himself asking.
James waves his hand dismissively. "It's not important right now," James gives him a serious look. "What did Dumbledore want and what does it have to do with Snape?"
Regulus looks back, considers lying, finds he doesn't have the energy. He's not sure he can see the point.
"Mary Macdonald's attack," Regulus says, causing James to stiffen. "Snape, Avery and Mulciber are saying it was me."
"They're WHAT."
James's indignation is almost flattering, unfortunately it's followed by a swelling of guilt in Regulus's stomach. Because he hadn't attacked Mary Macdonald. But he had covered it up. Was still covering it up.
He pushes on, "And since I don't have an alibi Dumbledore is willing to believe them," he leaves out the politics. Afraid to hear what James would say about Dumbledore's proposed deal. Afraid that he'd take the old man's side.
"You don't have—" he sees the moment it clicks for James. "Me," he says suddenly. "I'm your alibi?"
"Technically."
Regulus barely has time to blink before James is off the couch and heading for the door.
"Where are you going?" Regulus demands, quickly getting up to follow.
"To Dumbledore. I'm gonna tell him you have an alibi."
Regulus feels his heart stop.
"You can't do that," James is too far ahead, hand already on the door. Regulus whips out his wand. "Protego!" he shouts, which somehow works because James is thrown backwards, stumbling until he trips onto his ass.
"Shit—what the hell Reg?" he looks up at him indignantly.
"You can't tell Dumbledore about us."
"Why the hell not? They're accusing you of having used a goddamn unforgivable! Of assaulting someone!" James looks at him like hearing it out loud will change Regulus's mind.
It doesn't.
"Would you really rather be a rapist than gay?"
That takes Regulus back. "A rapist?" he repeats.
James's eyes go wide, like he's only just realizing what he's said.
"Is Macdonald saying she was raped?"
His thoughts start firing off in a dozen different directions. Nonsensically he thinks that that isn't right, because he stopped Barty didn't he? He thought he'd stopped him? And then, perhaps more troubling, he moves on to the fact that Mary Macdonald shouldn't have those memories at all, he got rid of everything that was there. Everything that wasn't dark. Something cold drips down his spine. Were the blindspots not permanent? Are those moments becoming clear for her?
"Regulus?"
At some point during Regulus's spiral James managed to get himself back on his feet.
"I'm sorry I shouldn't have just thrown that at you, not when..."
Regulus blinks, the room around him coming back into focus. "Not when?"
James looks back at him, like he can't figure out if Regulus's question is rhetorical or not, after a few minutes he shakes his head. "Nothing. Never mind."
Regulus barely pays him any attention, mind still reeling over all the memories that might be bouncing around in Mary Macdonald's head. He should have been more careful—more thorough. He shouldn't have made assumptions about things he barely understands.
Fuck,
he thinks.
Fuck.
He can't figure out what Dumbledore's next move will be, or Macdonald's, or Snape's. He feels like he's playing blind. He should probably write to his mother. He doesn't want to, but he's not sure he has any other options.
"Reg, hey?"
Regulus's eyes snap up, meeting James's.
"Let me do this okay?" he says quietly. "Let me do this for you."
He doesn't even know what he's asking.
"No."
James lets out a frustrated sigh. "It's not like Dumbledore is going to go around the school gossiping about our sex life."
"Snape would," and he would know, if Regulus was suddenly let off the hook that wormy little bastard would make it his mission to find out why. He's already suspicious of them.
James is opening his mouth to protest—maybe volunteering to scare some discretion into Snape—but Regulus cuts him off;
"That's besides the point. I really don't give a shit what anyone at this school thinks."
James looks surprised by that. "Oh. But—"
"My family can't know."
There's a pause. "That you're gay?"
Regulus snorts. "I'm not gay."
"You sound like Sirius."
He supposes he deserves that, though he still feels the intense desire to punch James for saying it.
"I'm slightly more self-aware than Sirius I imagine," he says flatly. "I'm—I'm attracted to boys. Always have been. But I don't have the privilege of being gay."
James really does look lost. "Is this a riddle?" he asks, squinting at Regulus like that will make his words clearer.
"Sort of," Regulus answers truthfully. "I'm the heir now. Who I want to be with is irrelevant. I have to marry a woman and continue the line," he feels tired even just talking about it. "There is a long tradition of Black's fooling around on the side, as long as you're discreet about it and do your duty it's tolerated."
You would think, being a pureblood himself, that none of this would come as a surprise to James. But then, the Potter's are a very different kind of family. They always have been.
James exhales, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, listen, we'll come back to how absolutely fucking miserable that sounds, but for right now, I still don't see the problem. I'm just telling Dumbledore."
Just.
Regulus almost laughs.
Just telling the man who threatened me with Azakaban the most vulnerable thing about me.
"It'll get out."
"You don't know that," James argues, because of course he does.
"No, but it isn't worth the risk."
James looks ready to pull his hair out. "Not worth the risk? I think the stakes here are a little higher than messing up your future unhappy marriage prospects don't you?"
Regulus shakes his head, hating that he's wasting his time on this conversation when what he really needs to be doing is strategizing.
"Marriage is important to my family."
James growls. "I get that but—"
"No," Regulus cuts him off. "You don't. Marriage is important to my family. Take a moment James, please, and remember who we're talking about. Try to imagine what disappointment looks like in my house. With my parents."
And he does. He stands there looking and Regulus and he thinks. Just for a second. Just long enough for the blood to drain from his face.
"Reg—"
"If it was just me that it would blowback on then maybe—I don't know—maybe it would be worth it. But they won't just be finding out about my...proclivities. They'll find out who I've been...they'll know about you," he finally manages to say, his next exhale shaky. "Whatever they think of me, they still need me around, but you James?" he shakes his head, unwilling to name all the possibilities. All the nightmare inducing possibilities.
"So you can't tell Dumbledore," he pushes on. "You can't tell anyone. This goes so far beyond sex. Do you understand?"
He does. Regulus knows he does. Can see it in his eyes. But James Potter doesn't lay down his sword and bow out gracefully. He fights to the bitter, dirty end. He drags himself through the mud and blood until he has nothing left. And then he fights a little more. He doesn't want to admit Regulus is right. He doesn't want to sit back and watch injustice be done. Ever the Gryffindor.
Maybe you should tell him,
hisses the voice in Regulus's head.
Tell him you aren't so innocent.
He probably should. He won't. But he should.
Eventually James sighs, leaning against the back of the couch. "If I tell Dumbledore," Regulus barely manages to hold back a groan, "that I was with you that night, that you couldn't have done it, but that no one can know, he'll understand. He'll keep our secret," James winces on the last word. Regulus isn't sure why it feels so violent. But it always does.
"I know," Regulus starts and stops, not sure how to phrase this; "I know you believe that—"
"Reg—"
"—but Dumbledore has no interest in protecting me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry it's me you've ended up with—anyone else and I'm sure you'd be right. But me and Dumbledore are...not on the same side."
He sees that drive into James like a steel blade. The words that aren't being said. That if Regulus isn't on Dumbledore's side he isn't on James's either. And he waits for the other boy to make that case. But after a few seconds James wipes a hand down his face.
"You don't trust Dumbledore."
It isn't a question.
Regulus answers anyway.
"No."
He'll use you against me, he almost says, but doesn't.
After a moment of silence James turns to him, shoulders sagging. "So what's the plan then Reg? What are we going to do?"
We.
He said we.
Like any of this is his problem.
"I'm going to write to my mother," because he can't bear to lie. He hates lying to James and he already does too much of it.
James makes a disgusted face, looking about as happy about this decision as Regulus is. "I can't quite picture a world where Walburga is the answer to anyone's problems."
Regulus isn't sure if he laughs or groans. "No," he says wearily, moving to stand next to James against the couch, their arms brushing. "Me either really."
After a few seconds he leans his head on James's shoulder, and James wraps his arm around his waist, pulling him in closer. Regulus closes his eyes, greedy. Always so greedy for this.
"Regulus?" James says quietly, face turned into his hair.
"Mm."
"You can't do that again, okay?"
Regulus's eyes blink open. "Do what?"
"Disappear. You need space you tell me, you talk to me, but you can't just walk away like that," there's a pause and then; "If you're gonna break my heart you need to mean it."
Regulus hates those last few words. Hates how real they are. How they sound wrapped up in James's voice. He squeezes his eyes shut, pushing further into James.
"I don't want to break any part of you," Regulus whispers, painfully vulnerable. It helps to have his eyes closed.
James kisses the top of his head. "I love you."
"Je suis désolé de t'avoir fait ça," the words come tumbling out of him, always so much easier when he knows James can't understand. "Je suis désolé de ne pas être assez fort pour te protéger. Je pense que tu pourrais me détester pour ça un jour. Mais j'espère que non. Mon Dieu, j'espère vraiment que non."
James Squeezes him tighter. "Reg?" he says in a low voice, breath tickling the top of Regulus's ear, but he only shakes his head.
"I love you," he says instead. "I love you too."
Over the years Regulus has, in passing, spoken to Mary Macdonald. Never for any great length of time or about anything important, but they're only a year apart, in the same school, on opposing Quidditch teams. It happens. But neither of them has ever sought the other out, and he is more than certain they have never spoken alone.
Despite all that, when he walks out of Transfiguration and sees her leaning against the wall across from his classroom, he knows that she's there for him. He considers, for one pathetic second, running away. He doesn't. But it's a near thing.
"Hello," he says, stopping in front of her, she holds his gaze unabashedly.
A moment passes before she cocks her head to the side, "over here," and then starts walking.
Once again Regulus feels the strong urge to turn in the opposite direction and run for it. Instead he follows Mary down the hall, letting her stay a step or two ahead of him until she turns into, what appears to be, an empty classroom. Once he's inside she flicks her wand, slamming the door shut behind them before she jumps up onto the teacher's desk at the front of the class. If she's nervous she doesn't show it. Though she does look tired. A little paler than she was a few weeks ago, eyes a dimmer, though no less intimidating.
After a moment of tense silence Regulus speaks. "What'd he say?" because the only reason that Mary Macdonald would suddenly be hunting him down is because James had gone done something stupid. Well intentioned. But stupid.
Mary smirks and he wonders if that's a good sign. "He did try to be subtle."
Regulus resists the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm sure."
"Tell me," her eyes give him a once over that leaves him distinctly uncomfortable. "How is it that you have James Potter doing your dirty work for you?"
He grimaces. "I don't. For this exact reason."
"Yes, alright, but you knew it was him that lead me to you?"
Fuck.
Maybe James wasn't the only one failing at subtlety here.
"He was asking me questions the other day. I think my brother has prejudiced him against me," Regulus is careful to keep his voice as neutral as possible. "No doubt they would both happily blame me for every shitty thing that happens at this school."
It's what he would have said a year a go. He tries to drag up that old bitterness.
Mary arches her brow. "Yeah, I don't think so though. Because that isn't how you said it, it isn't how he asked it. Your tone is all off." She waves her hand at him.
"My tone?" he repeats skeptically.
"Mmhm," she places her hands on the edge of her desk and leans forward. "So tell me Reggie Black, when did you and James Potter become friends and why the hell does he want me to tell Dumbledore that I didn't see you the night I was attacked?"
It really is rather brave of her, when you think about it, to lock herself in a room with someone who might have actively tried to hurt her. Who might try to again. But then, maybe that's what she's hoping for—a fight—Gryffindors, they're all idiots.
"I thought you said he tried to be subtle?" Regulus says, instead of addressing any of the other numerous points she brought up.
She smiles again. "Where James is concerned, anything less than skywriting is subtle."
Regulus groans internally. "I suppose that's fair."
"So?"
"So?" Regulus repeats back at her, a bit more childishly than he would like to admit.
"James seems to think that I can help you, and maybe I can, but not until you start explaining this situation to me."
He isn't actually sure that Mary can help him, though he supposes it's not the worst idea. Having the victim insist you aren't guilty can't hurt.
"What situation?" he asks, because he has no intention of revealing anymore to her than she already knows.
She considers him for a minute, legs swinging so that the backs of her heels are banging irritatingly into the desk she's sitting on. Regulus doesn't see why she has to sit on the desk at all when there's a classroom full of empty chairs surrounding them.
"Lets start with James."
Oh goodie.
"What about him?"
She rolls her eyes. "You two. You're...friends? Or what? Because the last time I checked you and your brother were not on good terms and James and Sirius are practically attached at the hip so...? What gives?"
The only thing that stings more than knowing that James will never be his, is knowing that he will always be Sirius's. A fact he's reminded of in this school almost daily. It's so like his brother to become some sort of minor celebrity. All anyone ever wants to talk about are the Marauders.
"Potter has a saviour complex, decided it was his Gryffindor duty to show me the error of my ways, bring me over to the side of light etcetera, etcetera," he says flatly. "I've told him to bugger off, but he's persistent."
He thinks that's believable, maybe even a little too close to the truth. He does his best not to squirm under Mary's gaze.
"And why does Dumbledore think you attacked me?" she asks finally and Regulus has to stop himself from letting out a sigh of relief at the change in topic.
"Snape," he says, maybe a bit too quickly. "Not a fan of this thing being pinned on his mate so he's trying to blame it on me instead."
"This thing," Mary repeats, and it's only when he hears it back in her slightly hollow voice that he realizes how insensitive that was.
"Sorry," though he doesn't think he sounds very sincere. His voice never does the right things. "That was crude of me."
Mary waves him off. "If you weren't there surely you can prove it?" her tone is light but her eyes are sharp.
"I wasn't there," mostly. "And I can't prove it."
She raises her brow. "Why?"
"I wasn't in my dorm," he says through clenched teeth.
"Where were you?"
"Out."
"Where?"
"Astronomy tower."
He sees a flash of the mischief she's so known for in her eyes. "With who?"
"No one."
"No one?"
"No one," he repeats, a little more growl in his voice.
Mary leans back on the desk. "Well that's not very believable."
He glares at her. "Apparently."
She goes back to just looking at him, like she's trying to puzzle something out. This is a bad idea—fucking James Potter, Regulus told him to stay out of it but James just can't help himself. He always has to save the day.
"James really doesn't think you had anything to do with it," Mary says eventually. It isn't phrased like a question so Regulus doesn't supply an answer. "What I can't figure out, is why, since you're clearly lying."
Regulus resents that "clearly."
He doesn't have an answer for her. Doesn't want to be talking to her at all, afraid every minute that his face or his voice is going to jog some memory lose in her head. He can't figure out if he's a guilty man trying to get away with a crime or an innocent man wrongly accused. Neither he supposes. Somehow life never does fall neatly into either category. Everyone always some mix of both.
"Is that all?" Regulus asks, after the silence goes on too long. Mary hasn't looked away from him once, her gaze inscrutable and far too clever for his liking.
And then.
"Oh," she says suddenly, eyes going wide. "You were in the astronomy tower with James."
Which technically isn't true, but the location is really the least important part of this.
"No," he says quickly. Probably too quickly.
"Oh," Mary says again. Giving him a new look that makes him feel squeamish. "Well okay then."
"Macdonald, that is NOT what happened."
"Sure Regulus, if you say so."
God, he really needs to never speak to another Gryffindor again, they're all so bloody nosy and insufferable.
After fighting with himself for a few seconds, he eventually forces himself to speak. "You can't tell anyone."
Mary nods, strangely serious. "Yeah, I figured."
"For James's sake, you can't tell anyone," he repeats, not feeling like going through this whole conversation again but hoping his tone is enough to get his point across.
Mary nods, slowly. "Alright. For James." And then; "Whom you were with, the night I was attacked?"
Regulus lets out a heavy sigh, the annoying tug in his gut telling him that he's losing control. Too many people know. There's no way they're going to be able to keep this secret much longer. Something like fear but a little worse grips his heart.
"Yes," he finally manages to say. "Is that all?" because he really wants to get out of here and maybe murder James Potter for putting him in this position in the first place. For exposing them to someone else after everything he told him last night. And he knows he was just trying to help, to find a work around to their problem. But goddamnit James.
"I'll tell Dumbledore," for a brief moment Regulus feels his heart stop and his fear must show on his face because she quickly continues. "That I don't remember you being there that night," she shrugs. "Don't know if it'll help you, they're not listening to me much these days but..."
Regulus can't help but notice the bitterness in her voice and he thinks of Dumbledore, bargaining away her justice, using her pain to buy himself a new spy.
"I'm sorry," he finds himself saying, not sure what he's really apologizing for.
She shrugs. "It is what it is."
Regulus nods. "Okay," he says awkwardly. "Well, I'm going to go now," and when Mary makes no move to stop him he turns and heads for the door.
"You should know that I do though," she says as he reaches for the handle, causing him to look back over his shoulder, forehead wrinkled.
"Do what?" he asks.
She gives him another one of those long looks, penetrating in all the worst ways. Then she slides off the desk, walking towards him at a leisurely pace. She stops when they're right next to one another and for a moment Regulus sees something new in Mary's stare. Something violent. Like rage.
"Remember you," she says sharply, pulling the door open and leaving Regulus struggling to breathe in her wake.