PHOENIX RISING, regulus black

𝐢𝐢𝐢. 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞

TO GAIN AND TO LOSE

seven hours

THE GIRL AND Regulus stared at each other for quite a long time after greeting each other. He couldn't tear his eyes away and she was far too afraid to disobey his gaze.

"How did you get here?" Regulus asked.

He was still wary of this. Even if this was meant to block a hero from getting to the locket, surely an enemy with equally abhorrent mind and morals wouldn't care about committing such an act.

"I don't know," she whispered back.

"Then where did you come from?" he asked.

"I don't know," she repeated. "I don't know anything about my past, present or future. All of it had been ... taken."

"I see," he muttered, "are you a witch?"

"I thought that I clearly told you that I know nothing about myself," she commented, growing impatient as his antics. "Why? Would it matter?"

Regulus stayed silent as he stared at the girl before him. He had not looked away from her eyes. It was a strange feeling as they simultaneously reminded him of all of the Death that he had witnessed within the walls of the manor, but also every sunrise he'd ever seen. Every glimmer of pride of making it one more day in this treacherous world.

"You're conflicted," she whispered as she dare not break his gaze.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows in disgust as such an insinuation. "How dare you?"

"I'm going to die anyway, Regulus," she reasoned. "So where's the flaw in speeding up the process? And besides, the best keepers of secrets are the dead."

Regulus stood up straighter, closing himself off to the outreached hand and the promise of hope and salvation. But the small sparkle in his eye, the same part of him that missed Sirius and couldn't stop staring into her eyes, was begging for a reconsideration.

"What's troubling you?" she asked as she gingerly reached a hand up and held the side of his face.

His vision became slightly distorted as he hesitantly leaned into the unfamiliar touch.

"You are not alone," she urged quietly.

He swallowed thickly, but clasped his shaking hands together, knuckles going white.

"I will not burden you," he said in a voice so not like his own.

"I have nothing to be burdened," she replied. "Because am I really human if this is the only thing I know?"

"You-" Regulus started, but cut himself off.

A surge of urgency flashed, red hot, through him. Even though he'd only known her for an hour at best, he felt he needed her to know that this wasn't her fault, that she was doing the right thing and that she did matter. If not to him, to someone waiting every night for her to come home and kiss them on the cheek and tell them every orange and pink streaked story she could think of.

"We shouldn't be having this conversation. It is improper," he huffed.

"You did it again," she bummed. "You held back."

"And why should I trust you?" he sneered.

"Why should I trust you?" she countered.

"You shouldn't," Regulus replied.

"There we go," she replied softly. "So would you rather kill me now and be forever haunted by the thoughts that plague your mind or take a chance on a tragedy?"

"My life is already a tragedy," he replied bitterly.

"Then why not share yours with another?" she asked. "Surely they must cancel out?"

"I'm not sure that's how that works," Regulus grumbled.

"You are so far beyond following the rules, Regulus," she reminded him. "Because I can feel it- the mark- but I can also see your eyes."

"I-I'm doing what's right," he protested in defense.

"Never said you weren't," she replied as she looked at him with a look only a mother could look at her child with. Or perhaps two desperate teenagers on the brink of death, trying to claw their way back.

Regulus went quiet, mulling over his choices. What he had to lose. What he had to gain.

"Reg," he said out of the blue. "Siriu- everyone calls me Reg."