Everything went back to normal after that; the boys were talking again, and spent all afternoon catching up with all they’d missed the last few weeks, though neither brought up the burial chamber, as they didn’t dare risk it. But they talked about everything else and even went down to dinner together, still chatting, only pausing whenever they had to chew, for it was improper to speak with a full mouth. And Regulus sneaked into Sirius’ bedroom again, that evening, so that they could talk some more, just as they had done a million times before everything had happened. And he slept there. And the following day was much the same, with the two of them coming down for breakfast together. They spent the whole day just chatting away and found joy in each other again. All week they spent in this manner, as if trying to make up for all the lost time, spending every waking moment at each other’s side, wandering around the house together, after their lessons. They played pretend and had fun with other games in the halls and spare rooms of the house. They had the time of their lives – but, as with all things, this, too, came to an end.
It ended with Christmas. Of course, the threat of it had always been there, looming in the distance. And yes, it had come closer and closer as the days went on, but still Regulus hadn’t really cared for it until the morning of, when Kreacher reminded him to make himself presentable for dinner that evening. He also said that Aunt Druella and Uncle Cygnus were responsible for hosting this year. This was something that normally would’ve come as a most welcome surprise (Regulus never knew who hosted the events until the day of), but since Narcissa wasn’t there to take him to the burial chamber, it mostly served as a reminder of her absence and her broken promise, instead of being a grand opportunity to show it to Sirius, as he’d originally planned to do.
All in all, it was quite painful. Time did nothing to improve this and by the time the four of them left the house to go to the dinner party, Regulus was close to tears. He did his best to hide them and smile, though he knew the result was rather sloppy. But Christmas was one of the few times a year that smiles weren’t deemed unbecoming and childish – they were even required. And so he smiled, and hid his tears. He smiled as they stood by the front door of the country house, and smiled as Bellatrix led them inside. He smiled when she seated him and Sirius in the sitting room, and smiled as she took Mother and Father to her own parents. He waited until they were out of sight before releasing his face. A cold shiver ran down his spine, and he was filled with that same emptiness he had felt when he’d left the burial chamber.
But he couldn’t go there now. Not alone. He’d surely get lost. And he couldn’t ask Bellatrix to come with him and show him where it was, either; she was too unpredictable and too quick to anger. It was best to leave her alone. And Andromeda … No, it just wasn’t going to happen today. Not without Narcissa here.
Perhaps they could do as promised next year. But just as that thought entered his head, he was filled with doubt. Would she even be here next year, or was this the end? Would she return, or be gone forever?
He turned to his brother, who sat next to him, and asked just that.
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. She might come back for it … or she might not,’ he said.
‘But she’s our cousin,’ he argued. ‘She’s supposed to be here with us.’
‘Yeah, but you’re asking the wrong person. I really don’t know.’
‘But Christmas just isn’t the same without her!’ he whinged. ‘We had made plans!’
Sirius just shrugged again, and that annoyed him more than anything he could have said. After all they’d done together, this was how he was treated. Apathy and disinterest. Mere shrugs to his very real, very important questions.
So he got to his feet and promptly left the sitting room. Because if Sirius wouldn’t answer him, he’d just have to find someone who would.
He crossed the entrance hall and went up a few steps, going straight for the kitchen, where his aunt and uncle were busying about, running around the room, working hard to prepare a meal. Father was there as well, commenting on this and that and offering more than once to call over Kreacher to fix a dinner for them all.
‘Father?’ He approached him and pulled his sleeve to get his attention. ‘Father, may I –’
Father turned and batted his hand away. ‘I’m busy.’
‘But I have a question!’ he objected. ‘Please?’
Father sighed and led him out of the kitchen into the breakfast room. ‘Make it quick.’
He looked nervously from the left to the right, hopping from one foot to the other.
‘Well?’
‘I just … I mean, do you know? If … if Narcissa will ever come back? – I mean …’
Father sighed again, and shook his head, then pulled up a chair and sat down. He motioned for Regulus to sit down as well.
He sat, watching Father intently. Father rubbed his chin, then folded his hands on his lap, staring back at him.
‘Your cousin will come back home. I dare say that much. When, exactly, I cannot be sure. She mentioned Easter in her letter, did she not? For now, hold to that.’
‘What do you mean, “for now”?’
‘Families can be difficult. Things might come up. But the most important thing for you to note’ – he put his hands upon Regulus’ knee – ‘is that, just because your cousin isn’t here now, doesn’t mean she’s never going to be here again, or that she’s no longer family. Because she is. She is your cousin and always will be.’
‘But she’s left us, hasn’t she? She’s gone away.’
Father shook his head. ‘She’s been at Hogwarts for years, as is the case for your other cousins. Have they left us, too?’
‘That’s different.’
‘Is it really?’ he asked. ‘When they’re at school, they’re there because education is important. With Narcissa at the Malfoys … she’s there because making connections is important. Both are equally important for the future. Neither is “leaving”. Family can’t just “leave”; it’s forever.’
‘But some have left!’
Father raised an eyebrow and retracted his hands from Regulus’ knee. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, I mean … on the tapestry … the marks … what if Narcissa …’ He couldn’t finish his thought.
‘Listen to me, son. Narcissa is a wonderful, talented, exceedingly bright young witch. She knows what’s at stake. She knows what’s expected of her and she can work with that. There is absolutely no need to think she might end up – well, like that. Please, stop your worrying, and enjoy your Christmas. Or at the very least, don’t spoil it for the rest of us.’
With that, Father rose, and went back to the kitchen, leaving Regulus behind. Alone. And though he wasn’t sure if he could indeed do as his father had told him to, he did want to try, so he went back to the sitting room, because that was where he was meant to be. That was where his brother was – or it was where he was supposed to be, anyway, because it was empty. But then again, it was getting rather late, so maybe Sirius had already gone to the dining room? Besides, dinner wouldn’t be long now, would it? It couldn’t hurt to go up there himself to check.
So up to the dining room he went. He opened the door without knocking, and entered, and he’d expected to see it set and decorated for Christmas – and it was, but there was something else as well: scattered across the table lay books. And Andromeda sat there, at the table, skimming through one of the books in front of her. She was frowning, sighing and groaning, and didn’t seem to have noticed him.
He cleared his throat. ‘Err …’
She looked up. ‘What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in the sitting room?’
He shrugged. ‘Sirius isn’t there any more, either.’
‘And if Sirius jumped off a bridge, would you follow?’
‘Sirius wouldn’t jump off a bridge.’
She sighed again. ‘I’m not in the mood.’
‘What are you doing?’ he asked, walking over to where she sat.
‘Revising,’ she hummed.
‘What are you – ?’
‘Charms,’ she interrupted. ‘If you’ll let me.’
‘What charms?’
She cast him a look. ‘Will you please be quiet?’
Regulus nodded, and she turned back to the book. He tried to read over her shoulder but it was too difficult for him, so he just looked around the room some more, taking in the decorations. Christmas wreaths hung on the walls, a tree stood in the far back, there were coloured candles and some more things – he couldn’t bring himself to care too much, not as much as he normally did, at least, because it kept reminding him of Narcissa’s absence, and he shouldn’t think about that, because she wasn’t gone. She just wasn’t here, and therefore he shouldn’t be sad at all, he should just have fun. Just as Father had said.
‘Do you think she’ll be back at Easter?’ he wondered out loud.
‘Hmm?’
‘Narcissa. Do you think she’ll come home?’
‘I don’t know. I’m trying to go over my Charms notes. Do you mind?’
‘But it’s Christmas!’
‘Yes, and I’ve got ten essays left to work on and I need to revise for an upcoming exam!’
‘That’s just not fair. Cissy’s abandoned us for some Malfoys, you’re abandoning us for some stupid school stuff, and Bella –’
She clasped the book shut with such force it startled and silenced Regulus. ‘You’re a sneak, that’s what you are. A selfish, ungrateful little sneak.’
She stood up and gathered her books with a wave of her wand. As she brushed past him, she leant down and whispered, ‘The world doesn’t revolve around you, you know. Let people live their lives for once.’
And then she was gone.
He put his head in his hands and sat down. How was he a sneak? He hadn’t come here to spy on her or anything, and she was only doing homework! There wasn’t anything to spy on. There wasn’t anything to be a sneak about! And how was he selfish? He was at the Christmas dinner, with his family. He wasn’t the one keeping busy with other things that weren’t as important as just being here! If anyone was being selfish …
They’d never understand, none of them. And they’d never be buried in that chamber, not even Narcissa, not if they didn’t stop acting like this.
After a while he decided it would still take ages before dinner was served, and he went back down again, hoping to find some company. He nearly walked into Mother and Father on the way. They cast him sour looks and told him to be on his way, so that’s what he did. He scurried away, past the kitchen, out the back door next to the utility room, feeling more and more angry with every step. It was just so unfair that and nobody wanted to talk to him or take him seriously. Sirius was nowhere to be found, and Narcissa was gone, and now Andromeda and even Mother and Father – !
He went down the path, hoping he was going the right way to find the burial chamber, because at least there his worries would be heard. At least there he wouldn’t be alone. He didn’t care about getting lost any more. He didn’t care if it got him in trouble. He didn’t care about anything any more, as long as he got away from the house, and the people in it. He just needed to get away.
He sped up, walking past the potting shed, already unsure about if he was going in the right direction, when he heard a sudden pained cry come from within. He walked around it, to the door, and found it slightly ajar. He pushed it open slightly more, so he could see what was happening inside.
Andromeda stood there, her face covered with her hands. ‘But I don’t want this!’ she cried out. ‘Don’t you understand?! I’m miserable!’
He tried to see whom she was talking to and pushed the door open a little further, but it didn’t work. He couldn’t see the other person, and couldn’t catch the other half of the conversation. All he could hear was a low whisper, and he couldn’t make out the words.
‘I don’t care what they’ll say! It’s MY life, not theirs!’
He knew he shouldn’t, but he still did; he edged open the door – too much. He knew whom she was talking to now, for he was face to face with him, but he couldn’t do anything about it, for Uncle Alphard’s hand shot out before he knew what was happening. His fingers clamped around Regulus’ ear and wrenched him with him, away from Andromeda and the shed. The pain was sharp and hot and he had to fight the tears behind his eyes, had to keep them from falling because he wasn’t a child.
But Uncle Alphard dragged him across the field and the pain flared through the side of his head with every tug. He was moving too fast. Regulus had to run to keep up, stumbling, tripping over his own feet, and he lost the fight. The world blurred.
‘What did you hear?’ Uncle Alphard hissed, shoving him up against a wall, still holding onto his ear.
He opened his mouth and closed it again. He blinked against the tears. The pain had softened now they’d stopped moving, and he had to think. He had to think. What had he heard?
He opened his mouth again but didn’t get to answer. Uncle Alphard twisted his ear, making him gasp from the painful sting. Fresh tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He stared up at his uncle, jaw tight, trying not to flinch as their eyes locked.
‘What did you hear?’ Uncle Alphard repeated, voice calm but dripping with anger. ‘And don’t lie to me. I will find out the truth either way.’
‘I just heard her crying!’ he blurted out. ‘I really don’t know anything! I promise!’
Uncle Alphard narrowed his eyes and studied him for a moment.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Even if you don’t know anything, as you claim, you will keep quiet about this. All of it. Understood?’
‘You want me to lie about it?’ he asked, tilting his head to try and ease the throbbing.
‘Not a lie,’ said Uncle Alphard, his grip tightening. ‘You simply don’t mention it. Keep it a secret. Secrets aren’t lies, are they? Sometimes they are necessary to protect those we care about.’
‘I won’t say anything,’ Regulus said quickly. ‘I promise.’
‘Good.’ Uncle Alphard released him at last. His ear burnt, blood rushing back into it. He resisted the urge to grab it with his hand, and kept staring at his uncle.
‘You may go now. In fact, I think we all should; dinner will be ready soon. But remember your promise,’ he said, his voice and eyes cold. ‘I’ll know if you – forget.’
He swallowed the great lump that formed in his throat and allowed Uncle Alphard to take him firmly by the arm, to steer him back towards the house. They passed Andromeda on the way there and she walked with them, her back hunched and her her head bowed, her hair hiding her face. No-one said a word, but he could still hear them. Andromeda’s cries and shouts for help, Uncle Alphard’s furious face. His ear still throbbed and burnt and served as a good reminder of what was waiting for him if he did tell anyone about what he’d seen.
And there was no lying to Uncle Alphard, there was no workaround. He’d know. So Regulus was bound to his promise, now and forever.
It weighed him down, that threat, so that by the time he set foot in the dining room, his legs were heavier than ever. He was glad he could sit down, glad Uncle Alphard did the talking when Mother asked where they’d been. Uncle Alphard just smiled and said they’d gone for a walk. Everyone believed him, of course, because he was a grown-up, and grown-ups never got questioned. But since Regulus and Andromeda had been with him, no-one cared to ask them any more about it, and that was quite a relief. Regulus wasn’t sure if he could keep up a lie to Mother. Not about something so … so serious as this. Because it was serious. She had been crying. But he had no other choice. He’d promised …
Thankfully, food was served just then, giving him something else to think about. It looked good. It even tasted good. Far better than he’d expected, because his aunt and uncle had prepared it all themselves. They had no house-elf and they’d turned down Father offering Kreacher’s help, which Regulus still thought was strange. Why would they prefer to do it themselves?
So yes, Regulus was quite impressed with the food, and especially the way they’d prepared it. What he was less impressed with was the entertainment offered at the meal. Everyone just kept talking about Quidditch. Just Quidditch. Quidditch this, Quidditch that, endless talk about the latest match … Even Sirius talked all about it, very loudly, saying all sorts of things when he hadn’t even seen the game they were discussing!
Regulus didn’t care. Didn’t care that the Chudley Cannons had lost to the Kenmare Kestrels with something ridiculous, eight hundred and seventy to ten. Didn’t care that the game had counted seventy-two fouls. How could he, when all he could think about was Andromeda, and how miserable she’d sounded, how miserable she looked even now? She sat across from him and hadn’t said a word all meal. She just pushed her food around the plate. Her eyes were red and puffy and if he didn’t know better, he might have thought she’d start crying right there at the table. He did know better, though. She wouldn’t cry, because she was a Black. Blacks didn’t cry. Certainly not at dinner.
Still, he felt bad. He wanted to help her, or at least tell someone she was sad, so they could help her if he couldn’t. But he couldn’t tell anyone. Not even Mother or Father. He wasn’t allowed.
He tried another bite of food, turning it to mush in his mouth. He didn’t really taste it. He wasn’t really at the table, even if his body was. He put his fork down. His hands were shaking a little, and he wasn’t hungry any more. He just couldn’t stop hearing Uncle Alphard’s voice in his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about what was wrong.
He kept his eyes on his plate for the rest of the meal. He didn’t eat much. He didn’t talk. He just waited for dinner to be over, and left the table the second he was allowed. And he left as quickly as he could. And with every step he took, every step away from the table, away from Uncle Alphard, he felt lighter. And so he left the dining room, and he went downstairs. He took his cloak and left the house, feeling free as ever.
And colder than ever.
Snow crunched beneath his feet and the air was harsh, biting at his nose. He took a few more steps and looked around the grounds. There wasn’t a speck of grass visible any more, it was all gone and covered in a thick layer of pearly white, untouched snow.
It was still snowing now. Tiny snowflakes fell down on his outstretched hands, slowly melting away at his touch.
He laughed in amazement and his breath came out in little puffs of smoke, like a dragon. Like a great, majestic, fire-spewing dragon. Yes, that was what he was, a dragon, a Hebridean Black, and it was fire that made the smoke, and not the winter air!
He blew another puff of ‘fire’, admiring it for a moment. Magnificent. He’d tell Sirius. Sirius would be jealous. Well, Sirius would probably say something stupid about dragons having bad breath. But he could deal with that. He just had to tell him!
He spun around, already bracing himself for the comment on his bad breath –
– but Sirius wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t. He’d run off on his own, without his brother for company.
He sighed and looked at the puff of smoke that came out with it, but it wasn’t as fun any more. It wasn’t fun when he was all alone and there was no-one to see him be a dragon.
So what would be fun to do? He looked around the grounds best as he could, to find something to do through the falling snowflakes, at the snow-covered house. But everything looked so different in white that it was as if he’d never been here before. Even the door to the house was different. Or …
He frowned. The door was different because it was open. And he’d swear that was his brother standing in the doorway … Yes, it was! He left the house now, clearly visible, dragging a disgruntled Andromeda by the sleeve. And Bellatrix trailed after them.
He didn’t waste another second and ran to catch up with them, to ask them to play, to tell them everything about the smoke and the fire and him being a dragon. Oh! and they could be Muggles trying to capture him! And then he’d –
WHACK!
Something cold and wet hit his cheek, and now it burnt like icy fire. His hand flew up and caught bits of snow trickling down into his neck. Across him, Bellatrix stood grinning, the snow she hit him with still clinging to her gloves.
‘Oh,’ he said, plucking the rest from his face and neck. ‘You dare.’
He then scooped up a fistful of cold snow and threw it sloppily towards her, as another snowball exploded against his right arm.
‘You’ll – you’ll regret that!’ Regulus sputtered, scooping up more and more snow, and hurling it straight at her chest.
Bellatrix gasped as it hit her, then grinned. ‘So, you want war, little cousin?’
‘War? I am above war. I fear no witch or wizard,’ he said, making himself grander and taller, flapping his arms like wings. ‘I am a dragon, a Hebridean Black, and I –’
Two snowballs hit him at once, one to the chest, one to the neck. He shrieked (very bravely) and retaliated wildly, fistfuls of snow flying in every direction.
Yes, this was war.
And the war raged on between the four of them, and lasted for what seemed hours, until they were all soaked and freezing. Andromeda was the one to stop it. She was waving her arms around with much dramatics, shouting that she couldn’t feel anything in her body any more, and called for a truce.
‘Coward!’ Bellatrix declared, tossing one final snowball that nailed her in the ribs. But Andromeda only gasped and brushed the snow off her winter cloak. There was no retaliation. Sirius, too, lowered his hands, dropping the rest of his snowballs.
Regulus was secretly glad. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could do this, with fingers that felt like ice. And his toes were most definitely gone. But saying that wasn’t very brave, and he was a dragon. So he tried not to look too happy about it and nodded solemnly as he said, ‘Yes, well, dragons don’t really like snow, anyway, so it’s fine if we quit …’
And he was just about to suggest going inside when Bellatrix seized him by both arms.
‘What – Bellatrix, no – no, wait – !’
But she didn’t listen to his protests. She spun him in a wide circle, faster, faster until the world blurred into streaks of white.
‘Come on, little dragon!’ she said, ‘take flight!’
She spun him in one last dizzying whirl and let go. For half a second, he was actually flying, and he flew a glorious few feet – but then he landed, hard, flat on his back in an explosion of muddied snow. The world tilted a bit, and it kept spinning before his eyes. His ears rang and his back hurt. He blinked up at the grey clouds and wiped off some snow as the world around him slowed.
Then Andromeda appeared in front of him, and she helped him to his unsteady feet. His legs hurt, too, he realised, and his arms. Everything hurt. But it didn’t matter. Because they were going inside, and Andromeda helped him get there.
Once there, Bellatrix told them all to take their robes off and put them by the fire, which they did. They huddled together by the same fire, in just their shirts, the three of them: Andromeda, Sirius and himself. Bellatrix had left to get them all some hot chocolate milk from the kitchen. She came back with four steaming mugs a few minutes later – a few minutes in which Regulus had regained just enough feeling in his hands to carefully take his mug off the tray. But it was hot and hurt his hands, so he winced and nearly dropped it.
Bellatrix raised her eyebrows. ‘Too hot?’
He shook his head and forced himself to hold onto the mug, despite the stinging in his fingers. He held the mug with as little skin contact he could, but it still hurt. But pain was weakness, and he was strong. A dragon. A Black.
‘Dragons don’t mind heat,’ he said, and took a gulp of the burning hot liquid. But he didn’t flinch, and that felt very brave indeed.
But, as with everything in his life, Sirius had to ruin it.
‘You sure didn’t look like a dragon!’ he said loudly. ‘When you fell, you looked more like a flobberworm. A flobberworm with fake wings that thinks it can fly but it can’t. Because it’s a flobberworm.’
‘I’m not a flobberworm!’
‘Are too!’
‘Am not!’
‘Are too!’
‘Well if I’m a flobberworm, then … then you’re a – a dog!’
‘Boys,’ Bellatrix warned, handing Sirius his mug. ‘If you start fighting, I’ll feed you to a real dragon.’
Regulus gasped. ‘I am a real dragon!’
That made Bellatrix laugh. ‘Then you’ll have to eat yourself, little cousin.’
Sirius howled with laughter at that, nearly toppling over and spilling his hot chocolate everywhere. Bellatrix could only just catch it.
‘All right,’ said Sirius, when he calmed from his laughing fit enough to keep the chocolate safe, ‘if Regulus is a dragon, then I’m a knight. And I’ll slay you, Reggie!’
‘You can’t,’ Regulus said quickly. ‘Dragons don’t get slayed.’
‘Oh, but they can get slain,’ Bellatrix said softly, staring into her own mug. ‘Everything can, and all living things die. Dragons, knights, even Blacks …’
Andromeda frowned. ‘Stop it, Bella.’
Bellatrix shrugged. ‘I’m only saying the truth. He’s old enough for it.’
‘He doesn’t need to hear it.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s Christmas.’
Bellatrix cackled. ‘And we can’t mention death on Christmas?’
‘No,’ said Andromeda fiercely. ‘We can’t.’
Regulus stayed quiet. He didn’t want to make the argument worse. He didn’t want to have to choose sides. He didn’t want them to fight over him at all, or what he knew; he just wanted everyone to be happy, and he wished once more that Narcissa had been here with him. She’d know just what to say and do. She was good at these things.
He wasn’t.
So he just held his cup close and watched the fire crackle and shift. He thought about dragons and knights, thought about Uncle Alphard and what had happened earlier today. He wanted to ask Andromeda if she felt better now, or if she was still sad. But she was still arguing with Bellatrix. And Regulus wasn’t sure if he was even allowed to ask her that. He didn’t want to accidentally break his promise. Uncle Alphard would know. And he didn’t want to find out what would happen then.
And so the question went unanswered, and he turned back to his drink, taking sip after sip until he’d drank it all. The conversation around him turned cheerful again and the fire was warm and fuzzy. He was starting to get a bit drowsy when Mother and Father came in and said it was time to go home. Regulus wished they could stay longer, because everything just started feeling normal again, but he didn’t argue. He knew it was pointless. He just gathered up his robes (still a little damp from before), and waited by the fireplace for Sirius to do the same.
‘Say goodbye nicely,’ Father said, when they were both ready to leave.
Regulus did. He thanked his aunt and uncle politely, like a proper Black. But when it was time to say goodbye to Uncle Alphard, he stiffened. His throat closed up, and he couldn’t get a single word out. He bowed his head quickly and hurried after his mother, clutching her cloak. They travelled by Floo powder and Regulus didn’t let go of her until they emerged in drawing room back home.
Sirius and Father appeared not long after.
‘Go upstairs, both of you,’ Mother said, unfastening her cloak to get all the soot off. ‘Kreacher’s left hot water bottles in your beds.’
They both left without argument. Tiredness took over his aching limbs, so that the bed looked very inviting when he reached his room. He climbed in, curling up beneath the covers, the bottle pleasantly warm against his skin. The warmth of it swallowed him within seconds, and he drifted off to sleep.