Chapter Text
I want every other freckle
February 15, 1979
SELWYN FAMILY ATTACKED
TWO DEAD, ONE IN CRITICAL CONDITION
Regulus’ heart pounded as he read the headline that was plastered across the Daily Prophet over a picture of the Selwyn estate. With a sinking sensation in his stomach, he took in the Dark Mark floating in the air above the house. He closed his eyes and held his breath, trying to shut out the frightened whispers and muted gossiping of his classmates across the Great Hall. He sat like that for what felt like a lifetime, desperately drawing out the moment where he could still hope that it was merely Carlo and his parents who were dead and injured. He longed to stay locked in ignorance and grounded in the belief that Hope—the only girl who had shown genuine interest in Regulus, the only girl who ever gave Regulus that strange feeling in his stomach that made him feel like he was going to be sick but not in an unpleasant way—was still alive.
Eventually, though, his mind racing, he opened his eyes and read the article:
Last night the Selwyn family fell victim to what is believed to be another attack instigated by the so-called Death Eaters. Hope Selwyn, a recent graduate of Hogwarts, and her younger brother Carlo, a fourth year student, were found dead when Aurors arrived at the scene. Their mother, Anita, was gravely wounded and is currently at St. Mungo’s in critical condition. Sources report that Anita and her husband, Gerald, removed Carlo from Hogwarts recently after an assault and alarming threats of violence from other students. It is uncertain at this time if the threats are in any way related to the tragic events of last night.
Gerald Selwyn was reportedly at the house at the time of the attack, but his memory appears to be tampered with. Aurors report that he is not a suspect at this time bur they are not ruling out the possibility of his involvement.
“I won’t deny it’s suspicious,” said Benjy Fenwick, one of the investigators on the case. “It looks bad, him being the only unharmed party. However, we have seen tactics like this before, where one member of the household is set up to look complicit. The Dark Mark above the house speaks for itself and we have no reason to suspect that Mr. Selwyn was involved with the Death Eaters. Quite the opposite.”
The Selwyns are one of the oldest pureblood families in Britain and have traditionally enjoyed their status as a high-ranking and respected family. This attack at the hands of Death Eaters has caused a shockwave of fear in the community.
“If they’re not safe, what hope is there for the rest of us?” asked a neighbour who requested to remain anonymous. “They’re picking off their own kind. It’s sick.”
“I’m not surprised,” Fenwick commented. “When you see what we’ve been seeing with these Death Eater types…it’s inevitable that it would come to something like this. They want to instil fear and they are not all that concerned about the cost, no matter how ‘pure’ the blood they are spilling is. They’re a bunch of jumped up playground bullies who got a taste of power and have gotten way out of hand with it. You can quote me on that.”
If the goal of this attack was to instil fear in the community, as Fenwick claims, then that mission appears to be accomplished. More families are attempting to flee the country, and the ones who are staying are withdrawing from public life. Learn more about how you can stay safe in these troubling times on page 3.
Funeral arrangements for Hope and Carlo Selwyn can be found in their respective obituaries on page 8.
Regulus’ hands shook as he put the paper down. Hope was dead, killed under the Dark Lord’s mark, on the night that Evan had been inexplicably summoned to the Dark Lord’s side. He shut his eyes again and bit his tongue, attempting to keep his composure.
His head swam with images of Hope. She had been training to become a Healer, had her heart set on doing some good in the world in a time when good was hard to come by. She had nothing to do with the war, she had stayed well clear of it. She was a pureblood from a good family who kept her nose down and her wits about her.
She should have been safe. She would have been safe, if he had not made her a target.
Face pale as a ghost, he got up and walked out of the Great Hall without touching his food. His steps were stilted and unnatural. He was vaguely aware of the stares and murmurs of the other students as he made his way back down to the dungeons, but he brushed past them without a glance in their direction. He opened the door to the common room, hurried up the steps to the bathroom, and threw up. He continued to retch, his stomach heaving, long after it was empty of all its contents.
He wiped his mouth and leaned against the sink, his eyes wet with tears.
Hope was dead. Evan had killed her. And it was all his fault.
Regulus did not attend any of his classes that day, nor did he send any excuse to his professors. He was not ready to look at Evan, much less speak to him, and he could hardly ask Miles to do him any favours either. He would likely receive detention or extra assignments for his unexcused absence but he could not bring himself to care.
A million horrific thoughts ran through his head, warring with infinite 'what-if' scenarios. All his hesitancies and concerns seemed pathetic and foolish to him now. He had been worried about N.E.W.T.'s and courtship and his confusing relationship with Evan when people were dying. How had he been so blind? He should have done more to warn Hope. He should have begged her to take her brother and flee. He should have stopped Evan from leaving, consequences be damned. He should have run off with Evan when he'd offered at the beginning of the year. He should have asked Hope to marry him a year ago, when his parents were amenable. Maybe he could have saved her by association with him; The Dark Lord surely wouldn’t have dared to execute his fiancé.
Evan might have, though.
Clawing at his hair, Regulus shoved his face into his pillow and let out a muffled scream. The Dark Lord may have given the order and Evan may have wielded the wand, but Regulus was sure that he himself had sealed Hope's fate. He had scared off Mitzy, he had gotten Hope killed, and Evan was getting farther and farther away from him. Barty was right: Regulus drove away everyone who cared about him. He felt like poison and it made his skin crawl. He pulled his head away from the pillow to gasp for air, his chest tight.
It felt like blasphemy to think it, even here alone in his dorm room, but the Dark Lord and the war he had dragged them all into had caused nothing but heartache and pain for Regulus. It had robbed him of the only friends he had, the only people that seemed to like him without familial obligation to force their affections. One by one he was losing everything important to him to the black hole of the Dark Lord’s mechanisms. He was beginning to wonder if the cause was worth everything he was sacrificing for it.
When his panicked thoughts threatened to consume him, Regulus downed a calming drought and drifted into a mercifully dreamless sleep. He awoke when the sun was setting and everyone was at dinner. It took him several long minutes to orient himself to time and place. For a moment he thought that he was at home, tucked into his bed by his mother like a small child. He felt a sense of peace wash over him and smiled slightly as he wrapped his comforter tightly around him.
He opened his eyes, blinking in startled surprise at the unexpected surroundings and felt a moment of panic, unable to recognize his dormitory. Once he realized where he was, he had blessed little time to remain blissfully ignorant before reality came crashing over him like a tidal wave. His stomach clenched and he gagged and let out a weak whimper before wiping the sleep out of his eyes. He lay in his bed feeling sorry for himself for what might have been minutes and might have been an eternity before he forced himself to crawl out of bed.
His bedside table, normally tidy and clear, had a haphazard stack of papers piled on it. On the top of the stack was a small note pinned under a chocolate frog. Regulus hesitated before picking up the note, bracing himself for its contents.
Regulus,
I told our professors that you are unwell. They were all very understanding. I took detailed notes for you.
Miles
At the bottom of the note, Miles had scrawled out a postscript in smaller, hesitant handwriting:
I'm sorry for your loss.
Regulus crumpled the letter in his fist, then picked up the frog and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall and flew out of the package with a muffled croak, which did little to sate the anger that coursed under his skin. He grabbed the stack of parchment and for a brief moment he considered setting the notes on fire, before he thought better of it. He shoved them in his trunk instead, where the empty bottle of wine from last night lay like an accusation. He slammed the trunk shut again and sat on the floor, head in his hands. The last thing he needed was a reminder of the other way in which he had disastrously fucked up, the other person he had pulled into this nightmare.
He was still sitting on the floor, curled up in fetal position with his nails dug in to the side of his legs and his forehead resting against his knees, when Evan found him twenty minutes later.
“Are you done moping?” Evan asked.
Regulus looked up at Evan, incredulous. “Am I…am I done moping? Evan. What have you done?”
“What I promised I would,” Evan said coolly. “No thanks to you.”
Regulus shook slightly as he got to his feet. His breathing was uneven and he felt a sharp pain in his chest every time he inhaled. Evan watched him dispassionately, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Hope…” Regulus whispered. “Did you…? Was that you?”
Regulus desperately hoped that Evan would deny it and claim that it was the Dark Lord or another of their compatriots who dealt the killing blow to Hope. He wanted more than anything to believe that Evan would not go this far to punish him.
He wanted to believe that his own hands were not drenched in Hope’s blood.
Evan’s lips curled into a sneer. He leaned forward and said, “Ah, yes. Your little girlfriend was screaming very prettily for me last night. A shame. Such a waste of a nice face.”
Regulus stared at Evan in horror. “Why? ”
“Her brother was a slimy bastard who dared put his hands on my sister and she got in the way. She was a blood traitor anyway, so who cares?”
“She was not!”
“She was. She called the Aurors on her own cousin just last week, she nearly got him arrested. She was willing to turn her own family over to Azkaban.”
Regulus leaned against the wall for support. “So you killed her?” he choked out. “You killed her for that?”
“Yes. And I would do it again, happily. She was against us, Regulus. She made her stance quite clear and she had to be disposed of. What do you imagine would have happened if you had had your way? That the two of you would have some type of happily ever after? That was never going to happen, Regulus. You are one of us, whether you like it or not, and she would have handed you over as well the moment she saw that mark on your arm.”
Regulus shook his head. “That is not true. She knew. She knew that I…she never…I don’t…”
A flash of rage crossed Evan’s face. “She knew,” he hissed. “Well, that was incredibly stupid. You should be thanking me. I probably saved you a one way trip to Azkaban. I bet she was just waiting for the right time to destroy you. When will you get it through your head, Regulus? No one has your best interests at heart the way I do.”
No one will ever love you like I love you.
Regulus shivered. His mouth felt dry and his head spun. He found it hard to believe that Hope had intended to betray him. Surely she would have done so already, if that were true? Evan was mistaken, he had to be mistaken.
Evan narrowed his eyes and stepped forward. “What were you doing last night, anyway?”
Regulus blinked. His brain took a painfully long time to switch gears and process what Evan was asking. His body responded while his mind caught up and he felt his face flush. “Nothing. I was worrying about you all night.”
“Liar!” Evan growled. He aimed his wand at a Miles’ bedside table, which toppled over with a bang. “‘Oh I can’t stand Saunders, Evan, I wish we could just get rid of him.’ ‘I’m not going to fancy your sister ever, Evan.’ 'I love you, Evan.' You’re a fucking liar. You want to treat me like some kind of villain, fine, but you are the one who betrayed me.”
Regulus swallowed and tried to steady his breathing. He had always been aware that Evan was frightening. He had seen the terror in the faces of Evan’s victims and the way that people deferred to Evan. He had reveled in the power that Evan wielded at times. But he had never been afraid of Evan himself. For the first time, Regulus looked into Evan's eyes, lit up with rage and hatred, and felt fear for his own safety.
“I was not lying. I meant what I said. I do not fancy Lena, you must know that I do not. I don’t fancy Miles either, I just…”
“You just what?”
“I was lonely,” Regulus said. “He was there. And you hardly seem to want me anymore.”
Evan let out a cold, dark laugh that made Regulus' blood run cold. It hardly sounded like Evan at all and it was surreal to hear it come from his mouth.
“I hardly seem to want you?” Evan asked, stepping forward again. Regulus pressed himself against the wall, trying to create space between them. Evan’s hand leapt to Regulus’ throat and Regulus let out a small whimper. Evan laughed again and stroked his thumb against Regulus’ cheek. “This entire year all I have been doing is trying to keep you close, to guarantee a future for us. I want you for mine. How much clearer do I have to be?”
“This is clear enough, thank you,” Regulus whispered.
Evan squeezed Regulus’ throat and pressed his wand between Regulus’ ribs before leaning forward to whisper into Regulus’ ear, “It fucking better be, Regulus. It fucking better be enough for you.”
Regulus swallowed. “Are you going to kill him too?”
“Saunders? Only if you ask nicely.”
Regulus squeezed his eyes shut and considered this. He did not want Evan to kill Miles. While it would certainly solve the problem of having to live with Miles for the next few months and pray that he kept his mouth shut, Regulus did not think he could bear to have the weight of another death on his shoulders. He certainly could not bear to have Evan hauled off to Azkaban or run out of Hogwarts. It looked bad enough for him already that the boy everyone had seen him promise to murder had been killed not a week later.
And as angry, hurt, and horrified as he was by Evan right now, Regulus needed Evan. And Evan needed Regulus. He couldn’t let anyone take Evan away from him. He wouldn’t.
“He said he would haunt me if he died, so I would rather you didn’t just yet,” Regulus managed to choke out.
Evan released the pressure on Regulus’ throat and lowered his wand slightly. “Don’t give me a reason to then.”
Regulus nodded. “I am sorry, Evan. I…I want a future for us too.”
“It doesn’t seem like you do, from where I’m standing.”
That did not seem fair to Regulus. From Regulus’ perspective, Evan had been pushing Regulus away in favour of pursuing a future with his father and Barty Crouch Jr. among the Dark Lord’s inner circle of loyal followers. Regulus, for his part, had been desperately chasing after Evan to the best of his ability.
It wasn’t fair, but he did not want to argue with Evan, not when he was like this. It was easier, better, and safer to tell Evan what he wanted to hear.
“I know,” he said. “But I do want that. I want it more than anything. I didn't think you wanted...I'm sorry. Just please…please don’t give up on me.”
Evan’s lips curved up into a slight smile. “I would never.”
Regulus’ body sagged with relief, and if Evan wasn’t holding him up he might have sank to the floor.
Evan allowed Regulus to sleep in his bed that night. Regulus laid in Evan’s arm with his back towards Evan, eyes wide open. He could feel the steady rise and fall of Evan’s breathing as he slept soundly, apparently content. Regulus reached his hand out and rubbed his fingers against the arm wrapped possessively around Regulus’ waist.
Since the start of that awful summer last year, this was all Regulus had longed for. He had spent countless hours dreaming about what it would feel like to lie in Evan’s arms after hearing Evan confirm that he wanted a future with Regulus (whatever a future between them could possibly look like). He had not imagined that it would feel like this.
He was terrified. He felt sick to his stomach and his mind was racing and he wanted nothing more in this moment than to climb into his own bed. Or, better yet, to go home to Grimmauld and tuck himself into his bed there, never to face the wider world again.
He could feel his entire body revolt against the idea of staying by Evan’s side. Everywhere their bodies touched felt itchy and unpleasant and Regulus had to fight the desire to hurl Evan off of him. He felt an intense urge to escape but he was trapped, pinned in place by the ghost of a good thing. He knew the moment he stepped out of Evan's bed he would regret it. He would never forgive himself for turning Evan away when Evan needed him. He would never recover from the loss.
This was what he wanted. It wasn't the fantasy he had imagined but it was what he wanted and he would stay the course until the war was over and things felt right again.
Sighing, he carefully lifted Evan’s arm up and turned around to face him. In his sleep, Evan did not look like a man who had just murdered and terrorised a house full of people he had grown up knowing. Instead, he looked impossibly young and heart-achingly innocent. His soft brown hair fell over his forehead and framed his peaceful face.
Regulus reached out and gently touched his hand to Evan’s cheek. He traced his fingers across the smattering of freckles that ran from Evan’s nose down to his jaw, and from his neck down to his collarbone, peeking out from the top of his pyjamas. Regulus leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Evan’s.
After everything Regulus had done, all the countless failures and disappointments and embarrassments, after every setback, Evan had stayed by his side. Evan had always been his champion. His saviour. It was the least Regulus could do, really, to push past this awful, gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach, and to love Evan more fiercely than he ever had.