Black Rose [Regulus Black]

62 - group therapy & shocking losses

"Here's to number five!" Sirius roared, and cheers erupted from the small group in Grimmauld Place as he dropped the locket of Slytherin into the golden box of destructive potion.

June was approaching rapidly, and with it, the chance to find one of the final things keeping Voldemort alive. The bunch of them — Marlene, Dorcas, Sirius, Remus, Regulus, Alessandra and Evan — had made a party out of it. Every three or four days, they would gather in Grimmauld Place and take turns dropping the Horcruxes in, giggling like little children as they saw Voldemort's literal soul turn to ashes.

Was it in poor taste? Probably. But it wasn't like they were killing other people — rather the opposite, in fact. And, it was keeping their spirits up.

First went the ring and then the locket, which Alessandra and Regulus had hidden away in the old Black Manor. Then, it was the cup of Hufflepuff. Regulus had to admit that it was a little sad to see such important parts of history ruined by Voldemort's greed, but it was for the best. It was either preserving history or preserving their future, and he chose the future.

Regulus left the room in which Sirius was doing karaoke (horribly, he might add; his brain was practically trying to crawl out of his skull to avoid enduring that ear-splitting shrieking Sirius called singing). Remus watched with a smile. Regulus had noticed that things between him and Sirius had calmed down; they were no longer as close as they once used to be, but they could now at least be in the same room as each other. He suspected that once Potter came out of hiding, it wouldn't take them long to communicate with each other.

"Reggie!" Evan sang the moment Regulus stepped into the hallway. The blond wrapped his arms around his childhood best friend, and the Black winced.

"How much Firewhiskey have you had, Evan?" he asked, pulling away and peering into his friend's eyes, which were bloodshot. "They can probably smell you all the way from Hogwarts."

Evan paid him no heed, giggling and pulling Regulus back into the embrace. "It's mental, isn't it?" he said slowly, rolling the words on his tongue as though this were the first time he was ever speaking. "Two years ago, we got the Dark Mark because our parents told us to. Today, both our parents are dead and we're killing that bloody bastard."

Reg's heart dipped when he pulled away from Evan yet again and took a close look. On first glance, someone would've thought that he was thriving. He was happy, with new family and friends, and not doing things like torturing innocents that weighed down his conscience.

But Evan was devastated. He'd lost his mother and his father without a chance to say goodbye, and there weren't many people he could confide in. Alessandra was battling demons of her own and Regulus had his hands full trying to make sure she was okay, and the others... they were great, but he didn't think they would understand because his family were Death Eaters after all.

"Evan," Regulus said slowly. "Evan, are you alright?"

"I'm brilliant," he hiccoughed. "Just splendid, look at me."

Regulus pulled him back into the embrace, feeling guilty about what a terrible friend he'd been. He'd been joking around with Evan ever since they'd escaped, thinking that Evan didn't want to talk about it and his coping mechanism was fooling around. He didn't realize that maybe Evan did need someone to talk to. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I've been an absolute git of a friend."

"No, you haven't. I just need to get over it."

"When my father first died," Regulus said. "And my mother... well, we know what happened to her... you were there for me. And I'm genuinely sorry I haven't been there for you, I should've asked you to talk about it."