The wind shifted and rustled a pile of old, dirty, scrunched-up papers near the bins in the corner of the alleyway. Further down, Regulus flinched so hard he scraped his back against the brick wall. His legs were already pulled up to his chest, and his arms locked tightly around his knees, yet he pulled them even closer beneath his damp robes which were smeared with soot and dirt, and he didn’t know if the wetness on his cheeks was rain or tears. It could be either, and was probably both, for it was drizzling, and it had been for an hour now. He was also crying, and had been for about an hour now, too. The rain had been the thing to push him over the edge. And he’d cried so quietly. He’d tried his best to not make a sound. And now the wind was ruining it, swirling around the alley, rustling papers and clinking something metal against one of the bins. Regulus felt a chill run down his spine, both from the cold and from fear, and pulled his robes tighter around him, and tried to cover his head. He wished he’d brought his hat, and cloak. Wished he’d been smart enough to take something with him. Wished he hadn’t left at all and was sitting by the fire in the drawing room with a large cup of steaming-hot tea… There was another clink and he tried to disappear into the darkness of the night, disappearing into his robes, disappearing altogether so that the Muggles wouldn’t find him, for he could hear something. Footsteps. Coming closer. Closer… He drew a shallow breath, pressed himself harder into the wall, and clamped his hands over his mouth. Don’t make a sound. Don’t move. Don’t even breathe. But his robes were bright purple and didn’t blend in well with the grey, dark Muggle alley, and he could hear the footsteps come even closer, could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising, could see, even without looking in that direction, the long shadow cast by a humanoid figure, blocking the little light that was left from entering the alley. The footsteps came to a stop so close to him he could hear the breathing from its mouth, hollow and rasped and evil. It was surely a Muggle, who had come to take him away, to gauge out his magic and boil him in a stew and do all sorts of horrible things to him, and there was nothing he could do about it. He let out a soft whimper despite himself, and scrunched his eyes shut, preparing himself for the worst. Preparing himself to face death. Instead, there came a voice. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’ it hissed, and it took Regulus several moments before he allowed himself to unhand his mouth and relax his muscles, for he knew that voice. But it was so out of place in the grimy, Muggle alley that he almost didn’t believe his ears. He looked up to confirm what he was hearing and saw the figure that had cast the long shadow, that had spoken with that voice, step fully into view. The first things he noticed were her knees. They were just... there. In sight. Fully unprotected. Her legs, too, were bare, and his eyes travelled up the surprising amount of skin she had no trouble exposing to the unfamiliar, biting air. Her arms were also uncovered and the top piece of her unfamiliar, dully-coloured clothing fit her too tightly and was tucked into the loose skirt that swung lightly in the wind. There were no buttons or other fastenings and her throat was left open and vulnerable. Regulus felt a flicker of discomfort and had to look away. How could anyone wear so little in this weather? All right, perhaps he was being unfair. After all, he hadn’t brought his cloak either, and she wasn’t the only one who wasn’t wearing a hat or scarf. It wasn’t right of him to judge her. But she hadn’t run off, as he had, so one would think she had had plenty of time to dress properly before leaving the house… One would think she wouldn’t be wearing... whatever it was she was wearing. Clothes he’d seen before, yes, looking out of the window into the streets below. Clothes he’d seen on Muggles. Clothes not fit for a member of the House of Black. ‘Regulus…’ Aunt Lucretia’s voice cut through the air, calling him, demanding his attention, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up. He didn’t move at all. He couldn’t. His body was locked in terror and confusion, half-convinced this was some kind of trick. ‘Are you hurt?’ He shook his head, but that made him dizzy, so he stopped and rested his head on his arms again, blocking out the world. There was a sigh, and Regulus half-glanced up from his arms to see her closing the distance between them. She looked so wrong as she crouched beside him, one hand reaching out, then suddenly withdrawing. ‘You’re filthy,’ she sneered. ‘And you stink of Muggle.’ The few seconds of silence that followed physically hurt and it took him quite a while to figure out the pain came from his chest, which ached with all good, relieving emotions a human could possibly feel at once; he was so glad that it was her, that she had come for him, found him, that he threw himself at her and wrapped his arms around her, not caring about the strange fabric his fingers fumbled with, just holding onto her. She was his lifeline. He let out a shaky sob that seemed to take all the tension and fear that had built up in his body over the past hour or so away, and he buried his face in her neck. ‘There now,’ she murmured, but she didn’t push him off. Her arm went around his back, a hand resting between his shoulder blades, waiting for him to end the hug, but he didn’t. It was impossible for him to release her now he’d only just found her. He knew he ought to feel bad about sullying her with the Muggle filth that clung to his robes, to his hands, to his face – but he could barely bring himself to. He felt bad enough that he’d been sullied, but it had been inevitable. Everything here was filthy. It all stank of Muggle. And it was horrible. Truly horrible and disgusting and he never should’ve come here and she understood how horrible it had been, what he’d had to endure. And she’d found him. She, not a Muggle, but his very own Aunt Lucretia. A Black. And he needed her. He needed her despite her wrong appearance, despite her awful Muggle clothes. ‘Enough of that now,’ she said, patting his back lightly as he let out another sob. ‘Nothing’s happened. You’re safe.’ But he still didn’t pull away. He clung to her, and whispered quietly against her neck, ‘I tried to stay hidden. So they wouldn’t find me…’ ‘You did well to hide,’ she said, stroking his back now. ‘You haven’t even a wand yet, no knowledge of what to do...’ ‘I was so scared…’ he admitted. ‘And you’re right to be. You’re not safe out here, Regulus. You don’t belong in their world, and they know it. If I hadn’t found you—’ She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to. Regulus knew exactly what would have happened then. ‘That’s why we don’t wander off,’ she concluded, pulling away slightly so she could look him in the eye. ‘That’s why we stay at home. That’s why we stay close to each other. We protect our own. But we can only do that if we know where you are. Do you understand?’ ‘I didn’t mean to—’ he started, but another sob escaped before he could finish his sentence, and he cried more into Aunt Lucretia’s shoulder. ‘I wanna go home.’ ‘We will. We’ll go home,’ she said, plucking him from her neck. ‘You’re all right. Come on. To your feet.’ She helped Regulus to his feet, which hurt, and his legs were swaying under his weight and trembled so much he wondered if he’d make it back home before he collapsed. His eyes were still hot and his vision blurry, and he reached eagerly for her hand when she held it out to him, his fingers clammy and shaking just as hard as his legs. He didn’t care how foolish he looked. He didn’t care what she’d say later. He didn’t even care if she scolded him in front of the whole family. She brushed his hair back with her free hand and wiped some tears from his face. ‘You look like your father when you cry,’ she mused. ‘He used to run and hide under hedges, did you know that?’ Regulus shook his head. He couldn’t really believe it. Father, running away? Hiding? Under a hedge? It was almost as ridiculous as seeing Aunt Lucretia wear Muggle clothes. ‘You’re not the first child to run,’ she said, possibly sensing his confusion. ‘And you will not be the last, either. But you must never, ever run here.’ He nodded. ‘I won’t.’ ‘Good. Come on.’ She made to walk out of the alley, but Regulus wouldn’t move, his eyes flicking towards the street. ‘I don’t want to go back out there,’ he whispered when she shot him a questioning look. ‘The Muggles—’ She squeezed his hand and showed him her wand. ‘Nothing’s going to happen to you if you’re with me. I promise.’ He nodded, slowly, not fully convinced, but allowed her to take him with her to the end of the alley and beyond. When they stepped onto the main road, she let go of his hand and instead took hold of his shoulder, pulling him even closer and steering him through the maze that was Muggle London. Her fingers were strong and sure upon his shoulder and gave him a flicker of confidence; she never faltered, never let the filth impact her. Muggles stared at her and shrunk back, and Regulus grew a little with every step. Until she quite suddenly quickened her pace and Regulus had to half-run to keep up, and she pulled him tighter to her side, tucking him in beneath her arm. They turned down a narrower street but still she wouldn’t slow down, and he could feel the fear coming back to him. ‘Why are we going so fast?’ he panted, as they rounded yet another corner. He was utterly lost in these streets and just hoped she knew where they were going. ‘It’s not safe here,’ she explained. ‘Not for you. There are too many Muggles out tonight, and these streets always get dangerous after dark. Here—’ She pulled him down another street and quickened her pace yet again, so that he now really needed to run along with her. When they finally slowed down enough for him to walk again – albeit rather quickly –, he looked over his shoulder to see if there was anything there that had been following, heart thumping, but didn’t see a thing in the darkness of the night. ‘What do you mean, it’s not safe for me?’ he asked when he was convinced enough they weren’t being followed. ‘Because you’re obvious, Regulus. You stand out. You don’t know how to blend in, how to hide what you are. One look at you and they’d know you’re not one of them.’ ‘Is that why you’re wearing those things?’ he asked, gesturing to her clothes. She gave him an amused look and said, ‘It’s best to keep your head down when you’re out here. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Don’t talk.’ They rounded what turned out to be the final corner and slowed down even more as they passed the park he’d played in with Sirius – and with a jolt he realised that the street they were in was his own. They walked past numbers seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven— Twelve. He made to run for the steps, but Aunt Lucretia’s arm held him back, pressed against her rather tightly with barely room to move. He wasn’t strong enough to break her grip so he resigned and walked slowly towards the house with her, and took the steps one at a time, and waited patiently in front of the door. She put her wand away at last; they were safe here. Home. Nothing would happen to them as long as they stayed here. She rang the doorbell. He could hear the loud, clanging sound from inside, but no-one came. It died out and silence followed. Dead, utter silence that seemed to last forever. It made his head unbearably loud. Now that he was back in the comfort of his own house, moments away from entering and being reunited with his family, all the questions he could think of popped into his mind at once, regarding her. He decided to start with the most pressing question he had. ‘Why were you out?’ he asked, glancing sideways at her. She still held him tightly under her arm, but he didn’t mind. She was probably scared he’d run off again. She did find him somewhere deep in Muggle London, after all – and that was the second time he’d left and almost died. He wouldn’t trust himself either. ‘I had a reason to keep an eye on this area tonight.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘It’s important someone in the family knows what the Muggles are up to.’ ‘You keep an eye on the Muggles?’ he asked, surprised. What could Muggles ever do that was interesting enough to keep an eye on? ‘Do you do it often?’ ‘Only when necessary.’ ‘When…’ He wanted to ask when such things would be necessary, and how would she know? Did the Muggles behave oddly on Sirius’ birthday every year? Did they know it was his birthday? Was his birthday a better time to steal his magic than some other day? Had they really been after Sirius tonight? Was— ‘We must understand the enemy, Regulus,’ she said, cutting off both his thoughts and his question. ‘Even vermin have patterns.’ He nodded solemnly. She was right, of course. Understanding the enemy would help keep them all safe. ‘They’re awful,’ he said, though that hardly covered it. ‘They are,’ she agreed, squeezing him softly. ‘But you’re safe now.’ He smiled a little. Yes, he was safe now. Aunt Lucretia also flashed him something of a half-smile and added, ‘Let this be a lesson in gratitude. You could have been born into that filth.’ He made to answer, to agree, to say he was grateful – because he was, even if he didn’t always show it –, and that he would never run away again, but the door opened at the same time and Father stepped out, and he was too overwhelmed with joy and relief to say another word. But when he wanted to run towards Father, he found he still couldn’t get out of Aunt Lucretia’s grip. He looked up at her and saw that her smile had vanished, and when he looked at Father again, he found the tip of his wand pointing straight at him. Or was it pointed at Aunt Lucretia? ‘My dear brother,’ she drawled, and he felt her nails digging into his flesh, ‘look what I found, wandering about in the streets of London. At night, no less…’ ‘Lucretia.’ Father’s voice was icy cold and chilled Regulus to the bone. He lowered his wand just slightly and extended his free hand towards him. ‘Come here, Regulus.’ Regulus reached for it, ready to take his hand and feel his warmth and to go home. He just wanted to go home. His room was so close … his bed, his pillow, his familiar sheets… He was tired. So, so tired. But he couldn’t get to him. Aunt Lucretia held fast even now, and his heart was thumping in his ears as he felt the both of them play tug of war with him – Father pulling him forwards, and Aunt Lucretia pulling him back. Panic swelled in his chest. Why wouldn’t Aunt Lucretia just let him go? She’d brought him home, it was over, she could let go now. She had to. They couldn’t keep at this until he was torn in half! ‘Luca,’ Father said, stepping forwards, towards them both. ‘Let him go.’ Yes, he pleaded silently, looking up at her. Let me go. Please, let me go… When she didn’t, Father seized Regulus with both hands and yanked him from her grip and towards himself and he did it with such force he quite literally fell into him. ‘Get inside,’ Father whispered urgently, pulling him to his feet. ‘Quickly.’ ‘But—’ ‘Inside,’ he repeated sharply, eyes fixed on Aunt Lucretia. His wand was raised again. Regulus hesitated, looking back at her. The panic had faded now that he was freed from both their grips, but confusion crept in its place. Aunt Lucretia had brought him back, had saved him from the Muggles… so why was Father so angry with her? He didn’t have time to ask. Father shoved him back with one hand, pressing him through the open door. Regulus stumbled inside. He slipped behind the door and peeked around the corner at the scene outside. Father hadn’t moved or lowered his wand. It still pointed threateningly at Aunt Lucretia. ‘Leave now,’ he said coldly, ‘and I won’t hurt you.’ Regulus shivered, but Aunt Lucretia didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Didn’t say anything. Didn’t reach for her wand. She didn’t do anything. She just stood there, watching him. But the words echoed in Regulus’ head, and sent another wave of shivers down his spine. Leave now, and I won’t hurt you. ‘I said leave.’ Father’s voice was louder, harsher, but blended with the cold words in his mind. Leave now, and I won’t hurt you. But Aunt Lucretia didn’t leave. She couldn’t; before the sentence had even ended, an invisible force struck her, throwing her across the street. She hit the ground with a sickening thud. Leave now, and I won’t hurt you. He hurt her. Father hurt Aunt Lucretia and now she lay on the ground in the middle of Muggle London, and she wasn’t getting up. She wasn’t moving at all. What if she was unconscious? What if— The door slammed shut and he came face-to-face with Father, who looked angrier than he’d seen him in a long, long time. ‘Upstairs,’ he said. ‘Now.’ Leave now, and I won’t hurt you. Regulus obeyed quickly, not wanting him to throw him across the house the same as he had done Aunt Lucretia, and went for the stairs. He found his legs were heavier with every step and his chest ached madly, and there was a ringing in his ears that resembled Father’s voice far too much… Leave now, and I won’t hurt you. He looked behind him as he reached the foot of the stairs and saw Father wave his wand around the front door, muttering incantations, sending sparks flying. Leave now, and I won’t hurt you. Father’s cold voice kept repeating that phrase in the inside of his head, now paired with the image of him blasting Aunt Lucretia across the street and her motionless body slamming into the road. Aunt Lucretia... What if Muggles found her out there? Leave now, and I won’t hurt you. He took the stairs slowly. With every step, he felt further away from Aunt Lucretia. Further from whatever had just happened. Further away from getting her help. Why wasn’t Father helping her? She was still out there. She’d just warned him about being out in the streets at night. What if Muggles found her? What if they took her and— And… She could die, he thought. She could be dying and he was just… walking away. Step by step. He paused at the top of the stairs. Looked back again. Father didn’t look up. Leave now, and I won’t hurt you. He climbed the next stairs faster, faster, until he broke into a run. He didn’t stop until he reached his bedroom. He threw himself onto his bed, crawled beneath the covers, and buried his face in the pillow. Leave now, and I won’t hurt you. He screamed. All the fear, the confusion, the helplessness of the night came over him in one suffocating wave. And through it all, a single thought circled his mind like a curse: Aunt Lucretia might die. And I just left her there. After all she’d done… The scream died out and turned into small sobs as his mind went over all that could be happening to Aunt Lucretia right now. Each thing was worse than the last and all were so detailed and vivid it made him sick. His sobs, too, died out. All that was left was his ragged breathing and his thoughts of self-loathing. Because it was all his fault. If he hadn’t run away, none of this would have happened. It was all his fault. Everything. He lay in silence, face still buried in his pillow (now wet with tears), body still beneath the covers. His breathing evened out again but still he didn’t move the blankets from his head or take in fresh air that wasn’t warm and wet from his tear-stained pillow. Because he’d failed her. She’d saved him from the monsters and he’d just handed her to them on a silver platter. How could he ever live with that? ‘Reg?’ He stiffened at Sirius’ voice coming from the other end of the door. He held his breath. I’m not here, he pleaded silently, just as he had pleaded with the Muggles back in the alley. Please go away. I’m not here. ‘Reggie?’ his voice came again, but Regulus still kept quiet, still kept pleading, even though he already knew it would be futile; Sirius had heard him scream. Had heard him cry. Now he had come to tell him what a baby he was. Now he had come to tease him and taunt him. ‘Can I come in?’ Regulus wanted to say “no”, wanted to insult him and shout just as he’d done earlier this evening, but he knew that wouldn’t stop Sirius this time. It had barely stopped him before. But Sirius had set his mind on this, and once Sirius set his mind on something, he’d get it. And sure enough, he said, ‘I’m coming in.’ Sirius was the last person he wanted to see right now, but still the door creaked open and footsteps padded across the room, and the mattress dipped slightly as Sirius sat down beside him. Sirius didn’t say anything. Regulus didn’t say anything, either. Didn’t acknowledge him. He tried his best to stay hidden, to feign sleep, in the hope it would make Sirius go away, his blanket still clenched tightly over his head. Sirius gently tugged at the covers. ‘It’s just me,’ he said, as if that made it any better. There was no “just” about it. He wanted him to go away. ‘I saw,’ Sirius said after a while. ‘From the stairs. I saw what happened.’ Leave now, and I won’t hurt you. Father’s voice was back, and it made his lips tremble, and he bit them, hard. He didn’t say anything to Sirius. What could he say? “Congratulations on also not doing anything to save Aunt Lucretia?” Leave now, and I won’t hurt you. ‘He shouldn’t have done that to her,’ Sirius said. Regulus agreed before he knew what he was doing. ‘She brought me back,’ he mumbled, voice muffled by the pillow. ‘And now I think she might be—’ He couldn’t finish. He could feel the sob working it’s way up his throat and knew that if he said any more, he’d let it out, and that was the last thing he wanted. He’d cried far too much today. All days. He was such a baby. Leave now, and I won’t hurt you. ‘I think she’ll be fine,’ said Sirius. ‘She’s… she’s tough. And a Black. We don’t break easily.’ ‘I do,’ he whispered so quietly it was barely audible. ‘What?’ ‘I'm just so tired,’ he complained into the pillow, new tears adding to the wetness. ‘And I just wanted to go to bed, and now everything’s wrong, and… and I’m scared, Sirius… I was so scared…’ ‘I know,’ Sirius replied. ‘So was I.’ He finally turned his head at that, lowering the blanket so that he could see his brother through his tears. Sirius sat on the bed, staring blankly ahead, not noticing Regulus had stopped hiding. He sat far too still. His face was far too serious. He lay there for a while, listening to the faint ticking of his wristwatch, watching Sirius sit next to him, lost in thought. He didn’t mind his presence as much as he’d thought he would. In fact, it was almost… enjoyable. It made him feel safe somehow. Warm. It made him feel as though nothing had happened and everything would be all right. He supposed that was what Sirius had meant, when he’d said their bond couldn’t be broken.