Chapter Text
The reason I ended our friendship had little to do with you. As you may have guessed by now, I have joined the Death Eaters, partially of my own will. I have turned this to my advantage, and done my best to be a detriment to the cause from the inside. This includes finding out the Dark Lord’s weakness. I have one wild, dangerously hopeful plan to take out his final assets. And I believe it will require both of us working together.
If you think this is worth giving a try, I suggest we leave once you finish reading. If not, then I must confess: I didn’t plan for that. And I can’t bring myself to care what will happen if you refuse me. If you have no desire of becoming entangled in my plans, do whatever you will with this information, I suppose.
Here I must confess something: I am dreadful at ending letters. Perhaps it is a good thing Mother monitored my post so heavily, or you’d have had to put up with some truly horrendous attempts at correspondence.
Possibly Your Friend Again,
Regulus A. Black
Pandora turned to Regulus. He’d been nervously looking at her, and then away to the sorting, and then back to her for the entire time she’d been reading. Now he gave her a nervous look, asking one clear question.
Pandora smiled and nodded. Regulus’ awkward smile spread into a wide grin for a second. When his passive face returned, Pandora missed his dorky smile. Yes, those feelings still hadn’t gone away. Even after a summer of telling herself she hated him, and always would.
At that moment, everyone around them erupted into thunderous applause, and for an instant Pandora thought that somehow they all knew of her and Regulus’ interaction. The celebration had nothing to do with them, however, and everything to do with Zimmerman, Michael’s sorting.
“Shall we?” Regulus offered, standing up and holding a hand out to her.
“What, now?” Pandora whispered back, smiling. Regulus nodded, and she realized he wasn’t kidding.
“I gave you your letter,” he commented. “I’ve done all I came here for.”
To her own surprise, Pandora couldn’t think of any worthwhile protest. The past year spent without Regulus had been terribly lonely.
She took his hand, and they both left the Great Hall, hearing Dumbledore’s welcome speech falter the slightest bit.
They let the large Entrance Hall door slam behind them, exchanging a grin at the sound.
Regulus held open the door to the grounds, and Pandora blushed slightly at the gesture. They walked across the lawn by wandlight, holding hands and smiling at each other as they left Hogwarts–and everyone who found them both odd–in the dust.
The sun was setting out the window–and it looked positively beautiful on the coast–but Pandora refused to fall asleep until Regulus was back. She looked at the stove, and stared down the moka pot that wasn’t quite ready yet. Both of them had recently become infatuated with espresso.
They were staying in a house Regulus had been left–because Regulus is the sort of person who gets houses left to him, apparently–by a late Uncle. It was a small holiday house on the Italian Riviera, and Pandora believed that she was becoming quite spoiled from living in Italy on a Black-family-sized budget.
A loud crack, and Pandora jumped in her seat. It sounded like Kreacher, he must have brought Regulus back.
Her study of pureblood genealogies suddenly forgotten, she made her way upstairs to Regulus’ room, and knocked on the door.
The hushed voices from inside stopped, and she heard Regulus’ voice–Regulus’ weak, tired voice–say “I don’t want her to know how bad it was.”
Pandora knocked on the door again, harder, a bit more frantic. Kreacher opened the door and let her in, heading to the kitchen.
Regulus was sitting up on his bed. “I’m back,” he said. “I got it.”
“Good,” Pandora replied as she sat down next to him. “How was it?” she asked.
“Fine,” he answered, shrugging. “Nothing out of the ordinary. In and out.”
Pandora frowned. “It took a while,” she said, fishing for details.
Regulus looked at his hands, fiddling with them in his lap. “Well, yes, we were being rather cautious, but it wasn’t a big deal, really.”
Pandora sighed. “Don’t do this.”
“I’m not doing any-”
“Regulus, you said you would stop doing this. We both agreed, no more secrets, no more lies, pride be damned.”
Regulus didn’t say anything, and kept silent, with his head down for a long moment. Longer than usual, for him.
Kreacher entered in the middle of the awkward silence, leaving a glass of water on the nightstand, and then disapparating.
Pandora cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, that was rude. I shouldn’t have-”
“No,” Regulus interrupted, his voice tight, like he was on the verge of tears. “No, it’s okay. You’re right.” He reached for the glass, and downed nearly half of it all at once. Then he looked at her. “Um…it wasn’t fine. Getting the locket?” His eyes were watering, and he seemed nervous to talk so openly. “It was really hard, actually, and…emotional?” he looked down, and a tear fell on his–slightly damp–robe. “I…I just want to sleep for the rest of the week, but I also…well, I’d quite like a hug.”
He seemed a bit embarrassed to be asking for it, but Pandora just smiled and put her arms around him.
After a moment, he began to sob, and Pandora nearly let go, but she took her cues from Regulus. HIs hands clenched the back of her shirt, and she opted to simply squeeze him tighter.
“Regulus, you’ve been gone for months!” Narcissa exclaimed. “You should hear the rumours, Lucius thinks you’ve deserted the Death Eaters, and-”
“Cissa, please,” Regulus interjected. “Rest assured, everything is going according to plan. If the Dark Lord hasn’t told Lucius, then perhaps he shouldn’t be prying.”
“Yes, well, I’m not handing over anything from his study without conferring with my husband.”
Regulus frowned, and looked Narcissa in the eyes. She was scared she might lose her family in the war.
“Don’t,” she snapped. “Don’t do what you’re about to do, Regulus Black.”
Regulus raised an eyebrow. “What am I about to do?” he asked.
“Threaten me. Read my mind, whatever it is that you’ve always been able to do somehow. It won’t work this time.”
“Oh no?” Regulus asked.
“Of course not. I studied occlumency at my mother’s feet, your tricks won’t work.” Ah. So Narcissa still didn’t understand it. No one ever understood his abilities. Occlumency would stop him going further, but she couldn’t hide information that she didn’t know he could see.
All the same, Regulus opted for a different route–he didn’t think Narcissa would believe him if he threatened to harm her family, anyways, and Regulus wasn’t certain he wanted to, although Lucius certainly knew how to tempt him.
“Does the Dark Lord know you’re an occlumens?” he asked.
Narcissa stiffened. “Pardon?” she asked. Regulus could sense the nerves. Brilliant.
“Does he know you’re an occlumens? Or are you still letting him think you’re an innocent, demure housewife who hasn’t any idea what Lucius actually does?”
Narcissa crossed her arms, glowering at Regulus. “And who would tell him?” she asked. “I’ve heard you aren’t on the best terms with him right now.”
“Well sure, that’s what he wants Lucius to think,” Regulus lied easily.
Narcissa gave a sigh. “And are you in danger?” she asked. “If you don’t return the diary to him?”
Regulus realized then that he was not yet so far removed as to not be counted in the family Narcissa was afraid for. He answered, quite earnestly: “Yeah. Me and…and everyone I care about.”
Narcissa gave a slightly pitiful frown. She always did that. Regulus highly suspected that, after years of being talked down to by her older sisters, she really enjoyed feeling above Sirius and himself.
And if Regulus had to let her be that way to get the diary, so be it.
When he returned home–not home, he reminded himself. This wasn’t his home. But then again, in comparison to Grimmauld Place, Uncle Alphard’s place in Santa Margherita was a lot closer to being a home.
Regulus thought it rather modest, as homes go, but he had to agree with Pandora–that was one of the nicer things about it. Uncle Alphard had always loved Italy, and Regulus was actually surprised he hadn’t left the place to his preferred nephew.
When he walked back into the house, he saw Pandora on the couch, hunched over a runes book with her reading glasses on, eating pasta from a take-out box. Regulus rather thought her reading glasses were quite charming. Cute, even, if he were the sort of person who used that word, which he wasn’t.
She hadn’t heard him come in, it seemed, she was incredibly focused on what she was reading. She frowned at something, and leaned forward to examine the book on her lap closer. She adjusted her glasses, and then let out a sigh, leaning back against the couch. Then she saw Regulus. “Oh, hey! I didn’t hear you come in, how long have you been there?”
“Oh, no, I wasn’t- I just got back. Um…are the runes giving you trouble?” he asked, crossing to the couch, and reaching for the book. “May I?”
“Of course. Yeah, I thought I found something similar to what we need but it’s a combination of two different runic alphabets, and-”
“-and you don’t trust that, I know,” Regulus finished, sitting down on the couch next to her.
“But in good news, I did get that diadem,” she continued.
“Really?” Regulus asked.
Pandora nodded, smiling. “It was at Hogwarts, actually. In this room Helga Hufflepuff put in the castle–it’s incredible, Regulus, it can turn into just about anything you need-”
“Unless it’s an exception to Gamp’s law, I assume.”
“Yes, obviously. But there’s one room that students have been hiding things in for…well, I don’t know how long. Sprout told me about it, she found me talking to the Grey Lady.”
“You ran into Sprout?” Regulus asked.
Pandora nodded. Regulus frowned. “Did she seem…disappointed?”
“In me?” Pandora asked.
“In us. For leaving.”
“No,” Pandora answered, pursing her lips in thought. “Did you think she would be?”
Regulus had actually been quite worried about it, but he just shook his head. “Stray thought, nevermind it. What’s that?” he asked, pointing at her takeout container.
“Cacio e pepe. I got you chicken alfredo, it’s in the fridge.”
“But that’s so far,” Regulus groaned. “Can I just have some of yours?”
“Absolutely not, I did not argue with the old lady at the restaurant for three minutes about ordering chicken on a Friday just for you to eat my pasta.”
Regulus sighed, leaning back against the cushions. Pandora put her hand on his knee, the sleeve of her sweater–wait…his sweater–covering her palm.
“You seem exhausted, how was your day?” she asked.
“Fine. I got the diary. Talked with the goblins at the bank, but there are technicalities to work around, because apparently Bellatrix moved it to the LeStrange vault after I disappeared. I can look at those runes later if you’d like.”
“Hm, take a break for now. You need a rest. We’re getting so close.”
Regulus leaned against her shoulder. “We’re getting so close,” he repeated, muttering it to himself, and then he must have fallen asleep.
Dear Sirius,
I don’t, quite frankly, see any need for formality, nor familiarity with you. I will keep this brief: I am not such a fool as to believe you are not involved with the Order of the Phoenix. In my brief foray with the Death Eaters, I gathered crucial information about the man who calls himself Lord Voldemort. In the past several months, I’ve endeavored to weaken him. Should all go to plan, you will be able to kill him after midnight on April twenty-second.
I recommend that someone–I care not who–kills him quite soon after this time. Should he realize what I’ve done, he will surely take steps to reverse it, and my colleague and I would rather like to retire from the war effort after this.
However, should you wish to contact me further for any other reason (after the above date, naturally, as I will be occupied until then), I suppose I could be made agreeable to it.
Regulus A. Black
Regulus frowned at the end of the letter. He ought to include a closing of some sort. He’d been tempted to put ‘your brother’ but had deemed it…wrong. Nothing about the letter was brotherly. It didn’t read like a familial relationship. It didn’t read like any relationship, really, it was just words on a page.
Perhaps Regulus had reread it too many times. He was only partially aware of the meaning in the words. Perhaps he shouldn’t contact Sirius after all.
That was a ridiculous thought. After all, Regulus had not tracked down the nearest wizarding town, found their post office, and embarrassed himself asking for an owl in his pathetic Italian just to be too cowardly to send the letter.
Before he could second guess it, he scrawled an innocuous ‘Sincerely,’ above his name, and folded the letter. He put it into the envelope provided and gave it to the owl.
He regretted every word the instant the owl took off, but pushed it down. Surely that was irrationality speaking.
He left the post office with a nod at the attendant, which mercifully translated just fine from English.
Pandora was waiting outside, smiling. She was always smiling, and Regulus found that he quite liked it, even if it was slightly unusual. “You sent it?” she asked. Regulus nodded. “Brilliant.”
She handed him a cone of gelato, one of the many things that made Regulus think his uncle was right: Italy just might be worth risking the Black complexion for.
With a steady hand, Pandora painted the runes onto the stone floor.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Professor Sprout said. “You’ve both been able to do this…for years?”
Regulus looked up at Pandora and shrugged. “As long as I can remember.”
Pandora nodded. “I thought it was normal for a while.”
“Helga,” Sprout muttered.
“It’s not a big deal,” Regulus said. “But hopefully it will come in handy now.” He finished the rune he was working on with a flourishing brushstroke, and stood.
“And how exactly will this work?” Sprout asked, still bewildered.
“Theoretically, the concept of a horcrux is distinctly inhumane,” Regulus explained. “Whereas what Pandora and I have is, to the extent of our limited knowledge, an excess of raw emotion. The rune circle will channel that, and divulge it into the horcruxes, expelling the soul from the artefacts. Then, the soul will have nowhere to go, and cease to exist.” Then, as an afterthought, he added: “I don’t recommend staying to watch.”
Sprout nodded, and stepped closer to the door. Regulus cleared his throat. He seemed slightly concerned he’d come across wrong, and Pandora noticed him fidgeting with his hands a bit. “I really appreciate your help. It means a lot.”
Sprout smiled. “Of course, dear. I’m quite proud of you both, whichever way this may go.” She left, but Pandora noticed the small smile on Regulus’ lips hadn’t quite faded. She’d suspected, when he mentioned it a month ago, that Sprout’s approval mattered more than he let on. Regulus’ relationship with authority had always been quite complicated.
“Finished?” he asked.
Pandora nodded as she made one final perfect line. She stood up, and put the brush and her bowl of ink to the side.
“Alright,” Regulus began, with more bravado in his voice than in his eyes. “Are you ready? It’s going to be a lot, but don’t try to fight it. You’re going to feel so much all at once, it might be too much, but-”
“Regulus,” Pandora interrupted, stepping closer to him. “I don’t think I’m the one to worry about.” She tried to say it gently, but at the same time, worry was building in her chest for Regulus. She was often worried for Regulus, and like any other time, it drove her crazy that he wasn’t as concerned.
“Well, it’s not necessarily any different. Any feeling can be overwhelming, we both know that.”
Before he could brush it aside any further, Pandora said, softly: “Regulus, please.”
He looked at her, and sighed. “I’ll be fine if you’ll be fine.” Pandora opened her mouth to contest, but Regulus put his hands on her shoulders. “If something happened to you?” he said. “That’s…what I’m really afraid of.” He leaned his head closer and kissed her on the forehead.
They lingered like that, standing close as they prepared themselves for what was to happen. Then they took their places along the rune circle.
Regulus stood opposite her, and with a deep breath, nodded once. They both drew their wands and recited the spell in unison.
The circle of black ink around them glistened in a way that anyone else might mistake as being from the light.
Pandora felt butterflies fill her stomach, she felt lighter, full of joy. It was bubbling up inside of her. Cheerful memories–her own and those she’d caught snippets of from others–filled her brain.
Castor, proudly walking into primary school.
Ted Tonks, stepping out of a prefect meeting, and blushing the slightest bit.
Dad and Persephone sitting in the greenhouse and talking about plants.
And Regulus.
Regulus was everywhere: clutching a snitch and grinning, gesturing emphatically as he pointed out various features of the night sky to her, blushing and showing her his E in Herbology.
As she thought of Regulus she remembered what he must be feeling right now, as she was overwhelmed by joy. She looked across the circle and saw him–tears were running down his still, shocked face, which was illuminated in thin trails of colored light leading from his heart, to the horcruxes in the center. His eyes were unfocused–he was watching memories.
It was only a moment before another memory came to Pandora, still of Regulus, but this one was undoubtedly stronger, and she had to remind herself not to fight it.
They were fifteen in the greenhouse, and inches away from a kiss. That kiss had been an accident, they both had agreed on that. And yet…Pandora had sensed he wanted to kiss her, and while at the time, she had yet to confront how she felt about him, she knew in the moment that she’d wanted to kiss him, too.
So they’d both let the accident happen.
The more she thought of Regulus, the more memories came to mind. And the recent ones, too: his smile when she took his hand to leave Hogwarts. The pure relief on his face when she told him she forgave him (and that she had done so a long time ago). The way he’d leaned against her, and fallen asleep on her shoulder. The kiss he’d pressed to her forehead an instant ago.
Regulus couldn’t zone out from the memories if he tried. Every one of them was vivid, and close. There was no safety to be found in dissociation.
Then his bones turned to liquid, and in a bout of numbness he crumpled to the stone floor. Feeling returned to his body, slowly, and he was sore. He was also quite warm, and the cold stone floor was a wonderful sensation. Thirdly, he was desperately tired.
He really ought to stand up. He’d stand up in just a second. He let his eyelids flutter shut for an instant. He’d stand up before he drifted off to sleep.
When Regulus woke up, he was aware he’d failed at that one goal. At the same time, he felt significantly better, and couldn’t be bothered to feel ashamed. He felt calm, as if the waves of fear had turned the rough edges of his brain smooth, like sea glass.
He stood to see Pandora inspecting the horcruxes, and anxiety spiked in his chest. “Are you alright?” he asked, taking a hasty step towards her, and feeling unsteady.
She grabbed his forearms to steady him, and smiled. “I’m fine, Regulus,” there was laughter in her tone. “I just woke up, too, you haven’t missed anything. Well,” she added, as an afterthought. “This seems to be dissipating.” She gestured at the horcruxes.
Regulus looked closer to see a black substance oozing from them, like slimy tar. He frowned, and looked at Pandora. “Physical magic. There shouldn’t be any soul in it, though.”
Regulus nodded. He’d heard fables, but never seen for himself magic strong and concentrated enough to take physical shape. Of course, between Voldemort, Pandora, himself, and even some Hogwarts founders, he supposed, there’d been a great deal of powerful magic involved.
It was evaporating into steamy black spirals, and leaving charcoal looking stains on the floor.
Regulus found himself entranced by it. There’d be no record of something so powerful. Even the stains would disappear with the room. There’d be no record of what he and Pandora had done.
But he had his best friend back, and that was far more important. He didn’t want recognition from strangers, he wanted love from people that mattered.
Perhaps, during the ritual, all the fear that had been clouding his mind had been expelled, because now, everything seemed so much clearer.
There’d been an article in the Prophet, all those years ago. “Alastor Moody Kills He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.” A decent enough headline. There’d been interviews done.
And then, Sirius had sent a letter, apologizing. Nobody had paid much attention to his explanation of Regulus’ letter, but he’d tried. It was likely a better story to say that Voldemort had always been mortal. Kept things simple. It was a newspaper, not a textbook.
Regulus didn’t mind. He didn’t really want all the attention of being a hero. It was simpler to be a nobody. So he’d sent a letter back, telling Sirius not to worry, and that he was actually more grateful when he thought Sirius had deliberately not told anyone. Because even by mail, Regulus enjoyed confusing his brother.
They sent letters back and forth for a while before Regulus returned to London. They’d talked a lot. It had been hard, trying to figure each other out, and how to fit into the new lives they’d each carved out for themselves.
They were closer, now, and while the list of things Regulus couldn’t tell Pandora was quite short, there were items on it he’d shared with Sirius.
Regulus looked at the last line of Sirius’ most recent letter.
Good luck and congrats! Don’t be nervous, Regs, but I don’t need to tell you that.
Your favorite brother,
Sirius
Regulus folded the letter up, and put it in the drawer on his bedside table. Then he stepped towards his mirror, and gently parted his hair, smoothing the stray stands that would surely pop up later from the humid night.
He rolled up the sleeves of his button-up to his forearms, hesitating as he revealed his dark mark. It always gave him pause, but there was never any real issue in showing it. It was fading, and he himself had come to accept he couldn’t do anything about it. Besides, hardly anyone here seemed to recognize it, one of the advantages of summering in Santa Margherita. One of the advantages to being a nobody.
He put on some cologne, and headed downstairs to the living room to wait, and try not to fidget too much.
“Shall we?” Pandora asked, as she came down the stairs in a knee-length honey-colored sundress, patterned with small white flowers. The brightness of the dress seemed to accentuate the glow that the sun had given her cheeks, and her hair was in a braid that wrapped around her head to hang over her shoulder.
“You look beautiful,” Regulus said. He was all the more anxious looking at her, as if he were a fifteen-year-old boy with a crush, and not a twenty-three-year-old man in a relationship.
Pandora laughed–Oh, Helga, her laugh–and stepped down the stairs to meet him. “Thank you,” she replied, planting a kiss on his cheek. “You’re quite dashing yourself.”
Regulus bit his lip, trying to hide the dorky smile she gave him. “Um, I made us a dinner reservation for that place you like,” he said, even though she already knew this. “But we have some time, should we…take a walk?” he offered, casually.
“That sounds lovely. Along the coast?” Regulus nodded. Pandora took his hand, and Regulus let her lead him outside.
The sun was setting, and the square had slightly more foot traffic as summer tourists were arriving. Pandora waved at a few locals they were friendly with, and Regulus just nodded at them, nervously brushing his thumb against the velvet of the box in his pocket.