Smile When You Dive In

Chapter 9

It was a well known fact at Hogwarts that students often skipped their first lesson the day after an Astronomy lesson. Regulus didn't know which of the professors drew up their timetables, but he was sure they accounted for this. Every Thursday morning, the Ravenclaw and Slytherin fifth years were supposed to have History of Magic with Binns, a class where even on a good day it wasn't unusual for somebody to drift off to the ghost's droning. Ordinarily, Regulus would be one of the few students to grace Binns with his presence. This wasn't because he had any kind of love for the subject, but just because he generally tried to stay out of trouble, lest one of the Professors decide to write to his mother. On the last Thursday in April though, Regulus gave it a miss. If anybody bothered him, he would drag himself as far as Madam Pomfrey so that she could excuse him from classes, and then he would return to his bed.

His dreams had been predictable, at least. The same thing Snape had seen the previous day. But dreams were in the habit of twisting themselves around a memory and disfiguring it beyond recognition. Sirius was there, angry as ever as he left Regulus behind. Unlike in reality though, Sirius made it only too clear where he was going when he burned his bridges. James Potter had always been a better brother to him, he told Regulus. He understood Sirius, he was what Sirius liked in a person. James was better than Regulus. Regulus thought that it was pretty fucked up of his brain to suggest he was jealous of Potter, given what had happened the night before.

That was another thing his dreams had taken a liking to. Regulus' fingers creeping up into James' unruly hair as they kissed. James kissing him back. A tentative thumb playing at the hem of his school shirt, and soft hums of contentment. Regulus hadn't really given James the chance to do any of that in reality, but that was for the best. He didn't know whether James would, or which option was worse. If he'd kissed him for long enough that he could not kiss back, Regulus would never have been able to face Potter again. When he thought about it, he wasn't sure he could do that even under current circumstances. But if he had kissed him long enough for James to respond, and he had kissed back? What the hell would Regulus do with that information? Even the notion that James Potter had considered kissing him had sent him half crazy, so him actually doing it was bound to tip Regulus over the edge.

No, Regulus was going to stay in his bed for as long as was physically possible. There were several advantages to this, the way he saw it. First of all, he wouldn't have to speak to anybody, apart from possibly his roommates who never spoke much to Regulus anyway. Second, the Slytherin dorms were in the dungeons. No windows except the ones out onto the lake. Should James want to send him a threatening note, it wouldn't reach him until he left the dorm. The only downside was that he had already shared the last of his Honeydukes contraband with the girls, meaning he'd have to leave for food eventually. He thought back to the chocolate bar James had given him in the owlery a week prior. That had been nice of him. His being nice was probably James Potter's worst quality, Regulus thought. How was Regulus supposed to hate him when he was always so nice to him?

But even if Regulus had planned on conning one of the other boys into bringing him food so that he could ignore such a quandary, the world seemed intent on drawing him from his bed. After their second lesson of the day (the first that the majority of his classmates would actually be attending), Willa had pounded on the door to the dormitory.

"Reggie?"

"Reggie!"

"I know you're in there, pillock! Montague says you're poorly. Are you really not going to come to Transfigurations?" Transfigurations had previously been Regulus' favourite lesson, behind Care of Magical Creatures. He wished he wasn't missing it, but he didn't need another reminder of his idiot brother and his idiot friends transfiguring themselves into animals while the werewolf almost killed people. Nor did he need to be reminded of the fact that Potter had saved Snape's life, despite his known hatred of the boy. Regulus ignored Willa until she went away, hoping she wasn't cross with him and would still let him copy her notes later on.

An hour later, he knew that most of the students would be heading to the Great Hall for lunch. Regulus' stomach, used to being fed on a very regular schedule, growled. He ignored it. If it came to it, he thought that he might transfigure the deck of cards Selwyn and Shafiq had left scattered across the floor into a club sandwich. He had spent the better part of ten minutes eyeing them up, unwilling to leave his bed to collect them or his wand. Another knock on the door, this time softer. Regulus thought that maybe it was Carmen, and resolved to ignore her as he had Willa. The last thing he needed was her complaining that he was playing favourites.

"Regulus Black?" The voice was not Carmen's, or anybody else's that he knew, for that matter. He could tell from the pitch and the obvious nerves that it must have been a first or second year, so groaned as he slogged to the door. When he threw it open, he was towering over the small boy. So used to comparing his height to Sirius, or the other boys in his dorm, Regulus was quite used to thinking of himself as short. He unconsciously hunched his shoulders when he saw the first year looking up at him, wide-eyed.

"Yes?" He suspected the boy to be a Bulstrode from his appearance alone, but didn't care to ask. If he did, it would only be to stroke his own ego, and he liked to think he wasn't that similar to Sirius.

"Somebody told me to give you this. A Gryffindor." The boy held out a chubby hand, offering the envelope to Regulus. He knew who it was from, but let himself live in denial a moment longer.

"Did he look like me?"

"No, it was.. Um.." He put one finger to his pink lips as he tried to remember, and Regulus regretted asking. "The blood traitor."

Regulus' back straightened at that, and he took the envelope from the boy before he could rescind the offer. Probably-Bulstrode hadn't said 'blood traitor' in the same way that Snape did, to get a reaction, or as an insult. He was just using it as a descriptor, something neutral that he'd probably been hearing for his whole life, just as Regulus had.

"Who told you he was that?" He asked, folding his arms. It was difficult to come across as frightening while in his pyjamas, but he did his best.

"Crouch. He said that I shouldn't be running errands for blood traitors."

"Maybe Crouch had a point." Regulus retorted, then closed the door on Probably-Bulstrode.

Each of the Slytherin dorms had a marble fireplace between two of the beds, and Regulus would be lying if he said that he wasn't tempted to throw the envelope in unopened. Whatever James had written inside, Regulus didn't want to read it. If he did, he'd question the intent. Worse than that, he knew that he would look at James' handwriting, make judgements on it. Picture the Gryffindor writing it out. He would wonder how James managed to pass it onto a Slytherin first year without rousing suspicion from Sirius and their friends. And that was before he even came to the content of what he'd written.

Realising that he was very much doing that anyway, Regulus tore carefully at the seal. Buried deep in his trunk somewhere was a letter opening bearing the Black coat of arms, but the thought to retrieve it never even crossed Regulus' mind.

On the torn parchment inside the envelope, James had written only three words. If Potter was capable of writing in complete sentences, he was yet to prove that to Regulus. It read:

Quidditch Pitch. Sunrise.