THE DEVIL'S WHITE KNIGHT→h.p

chapter 3

In his flat, Harry paced for what felt like hours, though really it was no more than a handful of moments. He was exhausted by the events of the day—attacked by his father and godfather, on the run, then questioned under Veritserum. He hadn't felt like this since the last days of the war, and he hadn't been looking forward to reliving anything like it.

He was just settling in for tea, some take-away pizza, when the fire roared in his lounge. He half expected it to be another attack, or maybe another visit from Malfoy which wasn't something he was sure he'd say no to.

Instead he laid eyes on Regulus Black, and found himself completely startled. Being that he had no reference for the other Harry's relationship with his second father—though he assumed it was likely just as bad as he had with the others—he wasn't sure how to react. The pair met eyes, green and grey, and eventually Regulus shook his head and pointed at the sofa for Harry to sit.

Oddly compelled to do as the man asked, Harry sank down, and Regulus moved out of the room, returning not long after with two cups of tea. He offered one to Harry, and sat before saying anything.

"Er," Harry began. "Thank you."

There was a pause, then Regulus laughed, sounding quite a lot like Sirius did—a low, almost barking sound. "I can't remember the last time you said thank you to me. You must have been knee-high."

Harry stared at him. "Has dad erm..."

"Explained the situation?" Regulus asked, then sipped his tea as he nodded. "He sat us down, showed us the interrogation. Which I feel compelled to apologise for. His methods have always been a bit..." Regulus finished off with a sigh.

Harry blinked at him for a moment. "I would have done the same, you know. I mean, maybe the other Harry would have hesitated but..."

"Other Harry," Regulus mused. "My son, the son I raised," Regulus finished after a moment, "would have resorted to much crueller methods, I think. Though he's never been one for the Auror department, or getting his hands dirty."

Harry couldn't help but glance down at his own. They were clean, had been for some time. But he couldn't erase the flashes of memory when they were filthy, calloused, covered in blood and other things he preferred not to think about. He took a swallow of his tea to chase down some of the bitterness sticking in his throat.

"Are you here to question me?" Harry asked after a moment.

Regulus laughed quietly again. "I think I wanted to see for myself. I knew, obviously. We all did."

"Clearly," Harry said. "The only one who hasn't noticed—or hasn't cared much—is Malfoy."

Regulus blinked at him. "Er...?"

"Possibly that was a secret I was keeping?" Harry asked.

Regulus shrugged. "You haven't bothered to speak to us about your personal life in quite a long time. I don't think it was a secret, just something the Daily Prophet hadn't got out yet."

Just then Harry jumped as the buzzer sounded with his pizza. He fumbled for his muggle money—surprised to find some in the flat, and returned with the boxes of Dominos. "Er. Do you...have you? Had this?"

Regulus laughed. "Yes."

"Oh. Well good. Go on, help yourself." Harry flipped the lid back and grabbed a piece, digging in with a strange vigour he hadn't expected to have after his long night. Regulus waited a beat, then went on ahead and took some for himself.

"This is surreal," he admitted. "I don't think I've had dinner with my son since..."

"Knee-high," Harry finished for him, then grinned a bit. "Well frankly I never expected to have dinner with either of my parents considering they were murdered. And you were well...dead."