Smile When You Dive In

Chapter 19

Regulus' dreams were once again filled with memories of the previous night. Bellatrix and Lucius arguing, the large doors swinging open seemingly of their own accord. The Dark Lord. On the way back to the castle, Snape had told him in a whisper that the Dark Lord's real name was Lord Voldemort, apparently desperate to prove that he still knew things about the man that Regulus didn't. It had rubbed him the wrong way that Lord Voldemort wanted to speak to Regulus and not to him, but he was not willing to admit it. In his dream, Voldemort made a much bigger slash into Regulus' arm than he had in life, letting deep red blood spill over the edges of the white basin. It gushed out onto the floor as Regulus watched in horror, but Voldemort only acted as he had in reality, calm as he collected the blood on his finger and put it to his mouth.

Somewhere in the night, the dream shifted as dreams often did and he was suddenly with James, explaining everything that Voldemort had told him. Everything about the werewolves, and blood purity. How it would help him to free the elves, and let Lupin roam free. James was more receptive than Regulus knew would be the case, and when Regulus opened his vein for the Gryffindor, James mirrored the Dark Lord's actions. He swirled a finger in the warm blood before lifting it to his full lips. The red stained his lips, and as Regulus watched in the same fascination that he had that night, more and more blood poured from his arm.

Regulus woke up restless, and escaped the dorm before any of the other boys could wake and question him about his whereabouts. It was too early to go down to the Great Hall for breakfast, so instead he set out to the Quidditch pitch. He didn't know when Lupin and his friends found time to sleep after their heavy night, but knew from previous months that they all seemed to be out and about bright and early the next day. Perhaps they were all abusing pepper-ups, or slept during their classes. For James and Sirius, the latter sounded pretty credible. He hadn't spoken to James, so didn't know for sure that he would be making his usual trip to the pitch, but he didn't have to wait long before his suspicions proved to be right. James looked exhausted as he dragged his broom behind him onto the browning grass. Regulus was sitting on the ground by the stands, and when James spotted him, he changed his path to join him. He threw down his broom and satchel, and plonked himself down on the grass. While he definitely looked like he needed a good rest, Regulus didn't immediately pick up any indication that he was in a particularly bad mood. With the lack of a greeting, he thought it best to jump right into excuses.

"If anybody sees us, you've knocked me off my broom and are checking for concussion." He pointed out to the middle of the pitch where his own broom lay. It was a decent excuse. James was a nice enough person that even if he hated the person he'd tossed off a broom, he'd still stick around to check they were alive. It was one of several excuses they'd conjured up for the Quidditch pitch, and since they had yet to need to use it, Regulus didn't see the need to replace it with a new one. James only gave Regulus' broom a disinterested glance before grunting his agreement.

"Yeah, whatever."

If Regulus didn't notice that James was in a bad mood immediately, he did then. He suddenly felt stupid for assuming that James would want to see him so early after the full moon, before he'd had a chance to sleep. The one other time he'd attempted to ambush him after the moon, James had made his excuses and brushed him off. Since then, Regulus felt as though they had grown much closer but perhaps he was exaggerating that in his head. It made sense that James might want some alone time after running through the forest with his friends all night.

"Do you want me to go?" He asked. James looked up at him, and sighed. He reached out a hand to sit atop Regulus'.

"No, I'm sorry. Just... Long night, you know?" The hand that wasn't touching Regulus had ended up in James' hair, making more of a mess than it was already in. It was a habit that had annoyed him back when he pretended to hate James, but now he couldn't help but find it endearing.