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The Shoulder of The Star


It always started exactly the same…

Regulus was walking in the dark. Down a corridor he thought, but perhaps somewhere else, somewhere he wasn’t familiar with. The wall was immediately to his left as he walked, his elbow scraping against it, keeping away from unknowable danger on the other side. He felt like he was gliding along through the dark, his gait much smoother than he was usually capable of - being a clumsy sort of walker. But he took a pause, reaching the end of the tunnel, and he knelt down to peer over the edge… And he found there water, as black as night, reflecting his own face in the surface. Regulus knelt and peered into the water…

This was where the dream differentiated from night to night. Some nights when he peered into the water, it simply was a reflection that he saw and he just got up and walked away, on through dark corridors until he woke up and it was no big deal. A bit creepy, but no big deal. Barely even a nightmare by then.

But other nights…

Tonight...

There, in the water, just below the surface, loomed a face, distorted by the water, but still recognizable to him… she’d always be recognizable to him… “Oi, Maryrose, what’re you doing in there?” he’d say and he’d reach for her hand, which was floating near to the surface, as though she were pointing at him in gest, her hair wild hair, bright white under the water, swarming about her face. But she’d been under too long now and he needed to pull her out before something terrible happened, so he grabbed hold of her wrist and it as then that he would realize he was too late. Her skin was cold and clammy and her wrist and body swollen from being under there too long and his fingers would sink in too far and he’d try to let go, as his stomach twisted and he panicked. And the moment he tried to let go, her eyes would flash open - pale white and blank, unseeing. She was dead, but not dead. Undead. Infirius. And her hand would close ‘round his wrist and she would grin wickedly and pull him forward and he would fall head-first, she would suddenly be gone as his body broke through the surface -- all of it would be gone, the wall, path he’d been on, the water, Maryrose, the other hulking shapes he now thought were faces he recognized, too -- and he would be falling through darkness. And the dark would change from water to skies - stars and planets and moons would be going past, glowing bright in the darkness, and he would grab and scratch at the void, but there was nothing there to stop him falling, and he’d be crying out for help that never, ever came… no matter how many times he dreamed of it… even calling Kreacher did nothing at all… there was no one there to hear him… And he fell and he fell and he fell, fell, fell, fell, fell… Down forever, down for all of eternity, down… and down so far that down had to have reached infinity and yet it was still down he went…

Until he landed in his bed and he sat up quickly, gasping, choking, scrambling for air, always shocked by the presence of his mattress, the presence of the walls and the room and the things - the nightstand, the carpet, the desks. He grabbed his pillow and started sobbing into it, his body a mushy pile of gooey nerves.

So it was that Christmas started with Regulus a mess already and the day only got worse from there. When he snuck out to the stables, he got there to find Newt Scamander had cleared away his books and was gone, and when he went back to the castle, intent on going back to bed before Mulciber and the others got up, he was caught by Filch who dragged him off to his office and assigned him detention for the first week back from holiday.

By the time he’d got back to the common room, Mulciber and them were up already and sitting about the common room with smug looks on their faces, trading in the sweets and treats their parents had given them for Christmas and Remus tried to sneak by, but McNair noticed him and demanded, “Where’ve you been boy?”

Regulus, who had been halfway up the steps to the dorms, turned slowly, his hand still on the bannister. “No where,” he replied.

Where?” asked Mulciber, lounging across the couch with a wicked gleam to his eye.

“I said no where,” Regulus answered, puffing his chest out like the little prince he was.

Mulciber smirked, “Funny you coming in the door if you’ve been no where, isn’t it?”

“No where important,” Regulus amended with an eyeroll.

Mulciber started across the room and Regulus hurriedly backed up a couple steps, clutching the rail of the stairway. “Leave me be!” he yelled importantly. “You don’t know my business with the Dark Lord! My family’s closer to him than yours is! I’ve stood in his presence, he’s given me assignments that are not for you to know of!” His voice was a warning tone. “You step down! You are not the boss of me, the Dark Lord doesn’t even know your name!!”

Mulciber snickered.

“Just wait ‘til you see him next,” Regulus said, his voice hard and unforgiving. “He’s already right angry with you for the toilet incident.” He held his bluff, hoping that Mulciber was less connected than he acted like he was. He kept his face very straight, kept his eyes from leaving Mulciber’s. It was very hard, but he managed it and finally, Mulciber turned away and Regulus breathed in relief as he watched the other boy go back to the couch and sink down, grabbing a cannister of candied pecan clusters his mum had made and return to trading with the other boys, as though Regulus didn’t exist at all.

He’d rather not exist to them.

He turned and ran frantically to his dormitory, and waved his wand to lock the door and he put his pyjamas back on and sank into his bed, pulling the blankets up ‘round him again and closing his eyes.

He instantly started falling again - through space again with the stars and moons and planets and as he fell he found himself searching for constellations and he spotted the dog in the sky, the star, Sirius, and he wished he could go there and catch himself on the star… he pictured hanging off the edges of a childishly drawn five point star, his fingers ‘round the horizontal bar that made the arms, scrambling to pull himself up, the star reaching over to help pull him by with one of it’s tips so that he was sitting up on the shoulder of the star...

The shoulder of the star was most comforting, to his surprise… and he fell asleep. Real sleep. Deep sleep. The sort of sleep that made up for all the sleepless nights. It was precisely what he’d wanted for Christmas - and although there were brightly coloured gifts, wrapped and resting at the boot of the bed, just waiting for him, Regulus Black let himself sleep the day away because there was nothing in those shiny parcels he wanted more than he wanted to be with Sirius.




Maryrose opened the present that Regulus Black had sent her by owl post. It was a leather journal, embossed with sunflowers, and inside he’d made a bookmark shaped like a salamander, and Maryrose laughed as she flipped it over and found he’d written the words, Have a Happy Christmas. R.A.B.




Lily Evans sat, staring at the flute of sparkling cider her mum had thrust upon her, seated on the couch in the Evans’s living room. Across from her sat Petunia and her stupid git boyfriend, Vernon Dursley, who had arrived a bit ago just to say hullo because he couldn’t stand to be away from her so long, and Lily thought she might throw up at the sentiment. She stared at the bubbles rising through her drink as Vernon Dursley went on and on and on about drills and how smart and wonderful he was and how grand every bloody thing he ever did was.

“You should have invited over that lovely boy again,” Mrs. Evans whispered, nudging Lily gently with a smile, “The one that came by to --” she caught herself before she could say your father’s funeral.

Lily realized she hadn’t told her mum what happened. She decided now wasn’t the time, “He couldn’t have made it, mum, he’s busy with his own family.” She quickly took a sip of her cider and tried not to feel the note in her pocket.




Not very far away - indeed, practically just around the corner - Severus Snape sat in the dark of the house on Spinner’s End. He’d snuck away from Hogwarts to see Lily and he’d taken the opportunity to go home - to be alone, to spend some time without Malfoy or any of the others around, to simply be. He’d used the time to use his magic to repair the shelves and knick-knacks that Malfoy had destroyed back at summer searching for that stupid locket thing. He carefully put everything back exactly as his mum had. He worked diligently, with painstaking attention to detail...

There were no presents. There was no Christmas tree. There was no roast cooking, no potatoes or carrots or peas or warm bread… No Doctor Who special on the telly, no telly at all, no caroling, no crackers, no sparkling cider, or warm hugs, or kisses under mistletoe. There was a can of beans and a bit of toast he burned and had to scrape the black crumbs off of as he sat alone in the dark, illuminated only by a lumos charm. He lay on the couch, as his father had done so many times, and he stared across the room at the precious gobstones set his mum had loved so very dearly, and he stared and stared and stared, listening to his own heartbeat and his own breathing and existing.

There came a knocking at the window behind him and Severus rolled over and looked out to see a brown owl with a rather large scroll on her ankle. How? Nobody knew he was here. He slid open the window and the owl flew in and held out her leg and Severus untied the parchment from ‘round her ankle and she stared up at him expectantly, waiting for owl treats, but Severus had done so he shooed her away, “Go on,” he said, “You can’t expect blood from a rock, I haven’t got anything to give you. I barely had anything to eat myself, without worrying about feeding other peoples’ owls,” he grumbled and the bird left with a huff.

After closing the window, Severus took the parchment, turning it over in his hands. There was no address, no indication that it was even meant for him. Maybe the bird was crazy and had delivered mail to the wrong house. He found the sloppily applied wax seal and slid his thumb beneath it, opening it up.

His eyes moved over the letters - taking in the message from the Marauders, his mouth moving ‘round the words as he read. His voice whispered the final line - “Your day of reckoning has come. Prepare yourself.” He stared at this for some time.

A sort of chill went through him. He’d never considered the idea of retribution… of all four of them being against him. He felt a lump rising up in his throat, a nervous warmth spreading through his limbs.

Stop, he commanded himself, Don’t get nervous. That’s ridiculous. They’re stupid, the lot of them - aside from maybe Remus Lupin, but Lupin isn’t going to play dirty like the other three are…

Of the others, James was certainly the most formidable. He was the smartest of the other three, knew the most magic. But Severus had beaten him in duels before - James had poor defensive skills, and often forgot to use his wand altogether if attacked quickly enough. Sirius Black was reckless and his magic was powerful but he, Severus, had the upper hand there, too, for Sirius Black would only push him so far on account of the guilt he still felt from killing Eileen Prince. He could defeat Sirius Black - he’d done it already- for Sirius would surrender before he’d kill again. And Peter Pettigrew, well… Sirius didn’t know what the Dark Lord wanted of Pettigrew, but it was clear to him that Peter literally served no purpose. He was practically a squib for his magical abilities…

“Prepare myself indeed,” Severus muttered and he balled up the parchment, chucked it into the fireplace and aimed his wand, “Incendio,” he whispered and he used it to start a fire to stay warm by.

Once the fire was roaring in the hearth, he pulled a chair closer to it and looked over the volumes on the bookshelves. He found a spellbook of defensive dark magic - not defense against dark magic, but dark magic to be used as a defense - and he curled up in the chair, opening it up, and began to read.




Regulus woke up just in time to go upstairs to the Christmas feast. He laid in bed, trying to talk himself into moving. He considered skipping it altogether, but a growling in his stomach made him crawl out of the covers and get dressed. His eyes grazed over the pile of presents at the foot of his bed, and he told himself he’d open them when he got back from the feast.

He paused, about to go out the door, when his eyes landed on a small parcel that had fallen a bit to one side - and on it, was Maryrose’s handwriting. He paused and let his hand slip from the knob of the door and took up the parcel, sinking to sit upon the bed, carefully tearing away the paper to reveal a white box. Opening the lid, he found within a simple silver chain - long enough it would hang to the center of his chest and, hanging from it, a silver disk, and he turned the disk over to find it had been engraved with exactly three words on each side.

The first side read:

You Are Brave.

He smiled and turned it over:

Love from Maryrose.

Regulus quickly hung it ‘round his neck, clutching the little silver disk in his fist and threw the wrapping in the rubbish. He tucked the necklace beneath his oxford, relishing the feeling of the cool silver hitting his chest. He didn’t want to hide it, per say, he just didn’t want to share it - he wanted to keep the knowledge of it’s existence it for himself.

And he smiled as he went up to the feast for Christmas dinner.