Only the Brave

Chapter 20: Moaning Myrtle

Regulus should quit while he's ahead. Honestly. He should. He got what he wanted. He knows what kissing James Potter feels like. Knows the sounds he makes when Regulus grazes the underside of his jaw with his teeth.

He knows what James' muscles feel like under his hands, even though there's always too much clothing between them. Regulus knows what James sounds like when he's coming, and the rush of power and sheer ecstasy that is knowing he's the one that caused it. That he can make it happen.

Mind-blowing, honestly.

Regulus should quit now, because he's on a high. He should quit now because there are three people who know, and that's three people too many. Sirius. Lupin. Dorcas. Dorcas hasn't had it confirmed, but she's too fucking smart and she picked up on it. Also because apparently James is obvious when he's looking at Regulus which, like, fine. Regulus likes it, because who doesn't? But it's fucking stupid and dangerous.

If Dorcas outright asks him again, Regulus won't be able to lie to her face.

Regulus should quit James now. It's the safest thing to do. The smart thing to do. It'll save him trouble, and possible complications.

But he won't, because he's addicted to James. He's addicted to how he makes him feel. To the way he looks at him. To the taste of his tongue and the way his lips mould to him. Regulus can't get enough, and he doesn't know how to quit. Part of him doesn't really want to. Much like his sleeping potions, he'll keep taking for as long as he can. Until something or someone comes and pries them from his cold hands.

Five months isn't long. This is what Regulus tells himself. He can have five months. He's earned five months. Hasn't he?

The library is deserted today, because it's Sunday and the day after Halloween so everyone is sleeping off their hangover. Perfect time for his research. No one will come bother him, and that's how Regulus likes it.

Regulus turns the corner and finds the shelf he's looking for. He stacks the book back where it belongs and sighs. This Tom Riddle is hard to find. He's annoyed by it, because how difficult could it be? Regulus did find the record of his attending Hogwarts, but it was just the entry in the log, next to the years he attended.

It isn't enough, and so far he has found little else.

But Regulus doesn't give up. He's going through family trees and other historical records, hoping to find the name Riddle somewhere.

He checks his pocket watch and sighs again. He has one hour before going to the roof to meet James. He should eat something, but he can't be bothered with the trip to the kitchens and he's most definitely not going to dinner because then he'll have to lie to his friends about where he's going afterwards.

Regulus decides to stay and read some more. He's putting a pin on the Tom Riddle research for now because he's frankly tired of failure. Instead, he looks for obituaries from the years Riddle was at school. If he can't find him, perhaps he can find the girl who died. Her family, anyway.

And after a short while of reading, his luck begins to turn.

Myrtle Warren.

Regulus knows her. He thinks. The name. It rings a bell. He sits down, writes it on a piece of paper and thinks. And thinks. He can't remember why it sounds familiar, but it does. It does.

Myrtle Warren.

A girl, murdered in school.

Why her? Regulus starts there, hoping it'll spark something. A memory, perhaps. Anything. He's a little desperate, because he's not used to only finding dead ends. 1943, a dead girl, Myrtle Warren. There's got to be something about it somewhere. Even if they swept it under the rug, something always slips through the cracks and Regulus is going to find it.