REGULUS BLACK

Regulus Black knew from the start that he was going to hate him. The odd part was, he didn't even know why. Regulus always knew why. He always had an answer, always an explanation. Things that didn't make sense were wrong; everything had a reason if you just looked hard enough.

He hadn't had the time to look yet. After all, they had only just arrived at Hogwarts. The whispering around them had been much louder this year than last, when the first years entered the Great Hall. The reason for this was undoubtedly the three older students who walked behind them, clearly not first years. Regulus had recognized them instantly. Even though he hadn't seen them in years, their resemblance to his Aunt Druella was unmistakable. The three of them were Rosiers, the children of Druella's brother Evander. Regulus had watched them as they approached the Sorting Hat.

Two of them walked side by side, one slightly ahead, the youngest, Regulus assumed. Their expressions were difficult to read, even for him. All three were sorted into Slytherin—one into sixth year, another into fourth, and the youngest into his year, as McGonagall had announced.

Regulus was less than thrilled. Another person to share their dormitory. Avery was already bad enough, even though he spent most of his time somewhere else with his friends. Still, Regulus hated being forced to share such close quarters with someone he didn't like. He already knew he wouldn't like Rosier.

The signs were all there. For one, he was already sitting with Avery and his crowd, which meant Regulus would avoid him as much as possible. For another, he'd seen Barty's expression when the three of them walked into the Great Hall.

Regulus glanced at the boy next to him. Barty's hair was shorter—Regulus knew how much Barty hated it when his father cut his hair. At the moment, he seemed entirely focused on the food in front of him, but Regulus had noticed. He'd seen how closely Barty had been watching the youngest Rosier. How tense he'd been when the Sorting Hat had taken longer than usual to make its decision. Barty had been watching him as though he was utterly fascinated.

Regulus knew Barty was fascinated by many things. The moving staircases at Hogwarts, the ghosts, the Forbidden Forest. (Barty still hadn't convinced Regulus to go into the forest with him—and he never would.) In principle, Barty was fascinated by anything potentially dangerous.

Regulus couldn't stop himself from wondering what it was about Rosier that had caught Barty's attention so intensely. Whatever it was, he didn't like it. He hated it. He hated that the new boy, without doing anything, had somehow stolen Barty's attention.

Maybe he did know why he disliked Rosier so much after all.

Regulus had always thought the biggest difference between him and Sirius was this: Sirius needed attention. Always. Everywhere. From anyone, whether they were listening, applauding, or laughing at him. As long as Sirius Black was the center of attention, he was happy. Regulus was the opposite. He had never needed attention, never wanted it.

With Sirius, it had never been a problem. His older brother naturally drew everyone's eyes, leaving Regulus to go unnoticed. It was the same with Barty. They both tended to avoid attention, but if it happened, it was always Barty speaking, Barty doing something strange that made people laugh.

Regulus never minded not being the focus of attention. Until now.

Now, he hated Rosier for stealing Barty's attention, even though it was surely unintentional. From what he'd observed, Rosier didn't seem like the sort of person who felt comfortable being the center of attention or who enjoyed being stared at.

Still, Regulus hated him for it. It was irrational, illogical, and completely pointless. But he didn't care. Except he did.

Regulus hated that. Hated that his mind wasn't thinking rationally. Hated that his emotions clouded his judgment. Hated Rosier. Hated Barty. Hated himself.

"Are you okay, Reg?" Barty had looked up from his plate, giving him a slightly concerned look. "You look like you've got a corpse to hide and no idea where to bury it," he added, smirking, "more than usual."

Regulus exhaled and nodded. Talking to Barty about this now, in front of everyone, was absolutely out of the question. Besides, he wasn't even sure he understood it himself. Barty rarely noticed his own behavior or reflected on it.

Barty gave him a questioning look. Of course, he knew Regulus wasn't fine. He always knew. He never noticed anything except when it came to Regulus. Infuriating.

"Later," Regulus muttered, and Barty nodded.

He'd want to know all about Regulus's summer, of course, and Regulus would rather have house-elves drop a piano on him than talk about it. Unfortunately, Barty wasn't the kind of person to let him stew in his misery alone. He never had been.

That's just how it was. Barty needed someone to talk to, but unlike Sirius, he also gave Regulus the space to speak or pushed him until he did.

For the past two years, it had always been the two of them. Barty and Regulus, Regulus and Barty. Just the two of them. Occasionally, when they argued, Regulus would go to Pandora, whom he'd been friends with for as long as he could remember. Those times always ended with Pandora forcing him to apologize to his best friend. Secretly, he was grateful for it.

But apart from those rare exceptions, it had always been just him and Barty.

And yet, for some reason, Regulus couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that this year, things would be different.

The evening after the feast in the Great Hall passed surprisingly uneventfully. He and Barty had left before Avery's group of friends, which gave them at least a little peace before Avery and Rosier arrived.

As soon as they reached the dormitory, Regulus began unpacking his trunk. He carefully folded his robes, sorted books onto the shelves, and arranged his parchment neatly on the desk. It was a familiar ritual that soothed him. Barty, on the other hand, made no effort to be helpful. Instead, he sprawled out on Regulus's bed, twirling his wand between his fingers while making comments about everything Regulus did.

"Why are you folding your socks? Do you think they'll run away if you don't?" Barty asked, a grin in his voice so obvious that Regulus didn't need to look at him to know it was there.

Regulus didn't respond. He had long since learned to ignore Barty's teasing, knowing full well that acknowledging it would only encourage him. When Barty didn't get a reply after a few minutes, he started playing with his wand, sending small sparks into the darkness. Regulus glanced at him sideways.

"Don't do anything stupid," he warned calmly.

"When have I ever done anything stupid?" Barty grinned, sitting up and aiming his wand at the bedspread. "I think your bed could use a splash of color."

"Barty..."

Before Regulus could finish his sentence, Barty murmured a color-changing spell, and the green-and-silver blanket briefly shimmered red and gold. Regulus, who knew the counter-spell anyway, remained unfazed. But before he could say anything, the dormitory door swung open.

"And this is our dormitory," Avery announced loudly, with Rosier following behind, looking somewhat hesitant.

Regulus barely looked up, offering Avery a curt nod in greeting. "Avery."
"Black."
And that was the extent of their conversation. Regulus shot a glance at Barty, who was sitting on the bed with an innocent expression, before returning to his unpacking.

Avery continued to chatter, attempting to draw Rosier into a conversation. The boy rarely responded, and when he did, his answers were brief and stilted. Regulus noticed that Avery was in the middle of "warning" Rosier about the teachers, and decided it was best not to intervene.

A while later, when everyone had made their beds and the lights in the dormitory were dimmed, Regulus lay awake. He had tried to read, but the words on the page felt meaningless, drowned out by his own thoughts. The book now lay beside him, open, as he stared at the ceiling.

He heard a faint rustling sound, then felt the curtains of his bed shift. Without asking, Barty slipped inside. It wasn't unusual; they had often spent nights like this talking since their first year at Hogwarts. The familiar closeness was oddly comforting to Regulus.

"Silencio," Regulus murmured, pointing his wand at the surrounding area and casting a silencing charm. He wanted to make sure Avery and Rosier couldn't overhear them, even though they were likely asleep fast. Sirius had taught him the spell a few years ago, back when he and Potter had been ridiculously proud of themselves for modifying it to block outside eavesdropping rather than making someone completely mute. Regulus could still picture his brother's smug grin all too well.

Barty settled himself at the foot of the bed while Regulus sat upright on the other side.

"What are you thinking about?" Barty asked softly.

Regulus stayed silent. He knew Barty wouldn't let it go, but that didn't mean he was ready to voice his thoughts. After a while, he answered quietly, "Sirius."

"Hm."

That was all Barty said. He didn't ask about his summer; they had already talked about that on their way to Hogwarts. The two of them sat in silence until Barty eventually broke it again.
"What did you want to talk about earlier?"

"Want?" Regulus wasn't sure he wanted to talk about it at all. On the other hand, he knew there wasn't much use in avoiding it. Though, of course, he could always pretend not to know what Barty was referring to.

"What do you mean?" Years in Grimmauld Place had taught Regulus how to keep his voice steady when he lied.

Unfortunately, Barty knew him too well to believe it. "Really, Reg? Have you forgotten how you looked in the Great Hall today? Like you were ready to kill someone?"

It wasn't a question Barty expected an answer to, he already knew he was right. Regulus stayed quiet but then decided it wasn't worth trying to dodge. Barty would just keep pressing, so instead, he asked a question of his own.

"What do you think of Rosier?"

Barty huffed, clearly irritated by the deflection. "You can't just answer a question with another question."

Regulus shrugged, even though Barty couldn't see it in the darkness. A few minutes passed before Barty gave in.

"Not much so far," he finally said. "He's said, what, three words in our presence? Not exactly impressive."

Regulus only nodded. No comment about how Barty had been staring at Rosier in the Great Hall like he was a blue hippogriff.

"And since Avery seems to like him, it's probably better to steer clear of him anyway," Barty added, still ignoring the fact that he had been sneaking glances at Rosier even after he joined them in the dormitory.

"Are the Blacks and Rosiers related?" Barty asked suddenly, shifting the focus back to Regulus.

"His aunt is the mother of my cousins," Regulus replied. "So, not really. But it's not out of the question that our great-great-great-grandparents were siblings or something."

"Pureblood families."
"Pureblood families," Regulus echoed dryly.

A soft laugh escaped Barty as he leaned back, the mattress shifting slightly under his weight. They sat in silence again until Barty asked one more time, "What were you thinking about in the Great Hall?"

Regulus groaned softly, letting himself fall back against the pillows with an arm over his eyes. He couldn't see Barty's face, but he knew the other boy was looking at him with that mix of curiosity and stubbornness that always forced Regulus to respond, whether he wanted to or not.

"I swear, Barty, you're worse than a caffeinated house-elf."

"And you're the king of deflection, but we're not here to discuss that, are we?" Barty leaned closer.

Regulus sighed and lifted his head, so they were at eye level again. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You never do," Barty replied, his tone soft but teasing. "But one day, you'll have to. So?"

When no answer came, Barty moved closer. The mattress shifted slightly under his weight, and Regulus felt his heartbeat quicken. He sat up, half reluctantly, half knowing that Barty would force him to anyway.

They were sitting so close now that their knees almost touched, and in the dim light, Regulus could make out the vague outlines of Barty's face—the curve of his cheekbones, the faintly raised eyebrows, the quiet expectation.

Regulus wanted to snap something sharp at him, maybe that Barty shouldn't act like he had all the answers. But then they were so close that the words got stuck in his throat.

"You're unbearable," Regulus muttered, barely audible.

"You always say that" Barty countered just as softly, grinning. Regulus could feel it, even if he couldn't see it. And he knew Barty wouldn't let up, that he would keep going until Regulus either snapped or gave in. And since neither of those was an option, Regulus did the only thing that would shut him up. He kissed him.

It wasn't a hesitant or uncertain kiss, it was quick and decisive, firm enough to catch Barty off guard. Regulus felt him freeze for a fraction of a second before he melted into the kiss, as if he'd only been waiting for it.

The kiss was brief, just a moment before Regulus pulled back. He held Barty's gaze—or what he could make out of it in the darkness—and hoped the topic was now closed.

"You're such a coward," Barty said, his voice surprisingly soft but still tinged with teasing.

Regulus scoffed. "And you're annoying."

Barty grinned again. Then, before Regulus could lean away, Barty leaned forward and kissed him again, this time slowly and deliberately, as if trying to prove that he wasn't so easily dismissed. Regulus let him, let himself sink into the warmth, into the moment where everything else—the question, Barty's persistence, his own uncertainty—didn't matter.

When they finally pulled apart, Regulus rested his forehead against Barty's and closed his eyes.

"You can't dodge every question with a kiss," Barty murmured, his breath brushing against Regulus's lips.

"Hmm." Regulus sank back into the pillows, pulling Barty down with him until he was half-lying on top of him.

"I missed you over the holidays," Barty muttered, more to himself than to Regulus.

Regulus didn't respond, but he rested his hand on Barty's back, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing.

It didn't take long for the darkness and the warmth of the moment to envelop them both, dragging Regulus into a soft haze. He fell asleep knowing that this wouldn't last, that what they were doing would have consequences eventually. But for now, he didn't care. For now, the only thing that mattered was that Barty was there.