The Darkest Hearts || REGULUS BLACK

Chapter Twelve

Regulus did not sleep that night.

His skin prickled, clammy and flushed, and he kept throwing his covers off in fits of overheating only to draw them back to his chin scant minutes later when the draftiness of the dormitory forced him to, where then the cycle would repeat.

When the murky light outside the windows turned watery grey, he finally gave up on sleep and trudged into the washroom. He switched the shower on as hot as it would go and peeled his sweaty nightclothes off, leaving them in an inelegant pile on the tiled floor. He stepped into the shower and clenched his teeth against the burning water, watching his skin redden under the onslaught, wishing he could forget about the night before entirely or relive it again and again.

Diana's breath was still on his lips, on his tongue, in his throat, in his lungs. He felt the weight of it, the magic of her oath, in every cell of his body. It was exhilarating. It was agonizing.

What had possessed him to invoke an oath of such ancient, intricate magic? He could easily have asked her to give him a prized possession of her own, as he had given her his family signet ring. He could have; but he did not.

Perhaps a part of him had wanted to see how far she was willing to go; how much of herself she was prepared to offer him in their dangerous quest. Perhaps another part of him had simply wanted a taste – a ravaged, depraved part of him that craved flirtation with something he knew he could never have. And now he had it. A piece of it whispered into his core on the breath of that one unattainable thing.

He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes and choked down a bitter laugh. He was losing his sanity, slowly but surely. To first think he could overpower the Dark Lord on his own, and then to think he could do so with a stubborn, innocent Hufflepuff by his side...

Somewhere, Fate was laughing.

He didn't know how long he had been in the shower, unmoving, until someone thumped the washroom wall with their fist.

"Oi!" Nott said. "If you've taken all the hot water again, I'm dumping your trunk in the lake!"

"Sorry," Regulus murmured. "I'll be right out."

He finished washing and stepped out, a towel around his waist. Nott stood at one of the sinks, a toothbrush in his mouth, and he glared as Regulus emerged in a billow of steam.

"Prick," Nott said around a mouthful of toothpaste.

Regulus gave him an unimpressed look. "First come, first serve."

He approached the sink next to Nott, scraping his wet hair out of his face. On his left forearm, the Dark Mark grinned out at him. It had faded a bit since the summer, the black ink not as harsh, but his stomach still churned whenever he caught a glimpse of it. True leaders, he thought, needed no uniforms or brandings. Their beliefs transcended such tangible things. If anything, the mark was the Dark Lord's own fear carved into his flesh.

Nott finished brushing his teeth and glanced at Regulus sidelong. "You were late getting back last night. Magda was upset when she went to bed."

"I stayed behind to study," said Regulus easily. "We have exams this week."

Nott grunted. "I'd be more inclined to believe you if you said something like you were busy practicing spells on that half-blood."

"Don't be stupid. Dumbledore has his eye on everything in this school." Regulus scoffed. "It's a wonder you haven't been tossed out yet."

Nott shrugged carelessly as he began to undress, starting toward the showers. He tossed his nightshirt on the sink, and Regulus wrinkled his nose. He swiped it onto the floor as Nott turned around. The Dark Mark flexed on his arm, a twin to Regulus.