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A Burgundy Smoking Jacket


Regulus ran up the stairs like a mad man, his fists balled about his wand as he went, up through the castle, higher than he ever usually went. He ducked ‘round a lot of Gryffindors who looked at him as he went by, muttering, “What’s a Slytherin doing up here?” in perturbed tones. He raced down the hall to the hospital wing, his trainers thumping on the carpet and finally he reached the corridor and came to a halt when he saw Peter Pettigrew sitting outside, doing homework. He walked slowly forward, eyeing Peter carefully, worried whether he’d look up and scream at him.

Peter continued on looking at what looked like Potions work until Regulus was very nearly to the door and then he glanced up. “Sirius - you’re --” he stopped, did a double-take, and said, “Oh, you’re not Sirius.”

“No, but then he’s rarely serious himself,” Regulus replied.

Peter laughed and Regulus smiled, relishing the fact that he’d made one of his brother’s friends laugh. “I see the resemblance,” Peter said with a chuckle.

“Thanks,” Regulus said. And he meant it. He glanced at the door to the ward. “Is… is he still in there? What happened?”

“Dunno, really,” Peter replied, shrugging. “He collapsed on the stairs right after talking to you and James and Remus said he had a big gash right across his chest. I didn’t see it myself, I was getting McGonagall to come and help. He was real pale, though, when I saw him before Pomfrey kicked James and me out. Remus was supposed to, too, and he just real fierce said no and put his foot down, made Pomfrey let him stay. I’ve never seen anyone be so firm with any of the staff and get away with it! But he’s been in there since.”

Regulus glanced at the door to the ward and back to Peter. ‘Is he… is he okay?”

Peter shrugged. “Dunno. I reckon Remus would’ve told us if there was anything too horrible happening in there.”

Regulus drew a deep breath and sort of dawdled about a moment as Peter turned back to his homework. He didn’t seem to care either way whether Regulus stayed there with him. Regulus slid down to sit on the carpet against the wall across from Peter and crossed his legs, looking down at the pattern on the soles of his trainers for a moment, picking at a bit of loose rubber ‘round the toe. He bit his lips and glanced up at Peter, but Pete’s eyes were very much trained on the book in his lap.

“Is Sirius happy?”

Peter looked up. “Sirius is always happy. He’s the happiest person I know. Always laughing and smiling and takin’ the mickey out of anybody within ear shot.”

Regulus didn’t know what it was he’d been hoping for Peter to say in reply to that question. He’d been feeling rather blue himself, with patches of happiness, a feeling that had started largely since Father had died. He’d been angry with Orion since the death of that house elf - Tizzy, he reminded himself, her name was Tizzy and she should be remembered as such! - but regardless the man was still his father. He supposed he’d been sort of hoping that maybe Sirius had been feeling the same way, that regardless of what sort of horrible relationship he had with Mother and Father that maybe Regulus wasn’t alone in having unexplainable sadness over the loss just the same. He’d hoped maybe the sort of hollow feeling that he, himself, felt whenever he thought of Sirius - a sort of loneliness, he supposed - was something that Sirius felt, too.

But if Sirius was happy, then Regulus was happy for him.

“You alright, then?” Peter asked, sliding his quill into the Potions book to keep his place and putting it aside.

“Sure. Brilliant. Never better,” Regulus answered.

Peter eyed him for a moment and he said, “You’re just like Sirius there, too. You don’t wanna tell me anything so you lie about it in the same exact tone of voice. It’s fine, though, I understand why you wouldn’t want to tell me anything.” He shrugged, “You don’t even know me.”

“Sorry,” Regulus answered plainly.

“S’alright,” Peter turned back to his page.

Regulus rubbed his nose and looked up and down the hallway as Peter set to reading once again.

Regulus fell asleep sitting there in the hall and when he woke up Peter was gone. He sat up and looked around, but there was no sign of Peter at all. He pushed himself up from the carpet and wondered if Peter had just left or if Sirius had been released and nobody had bothered waking him up at all or what had happened. He walked over to the hospital wing door and he pressed his ear to the door and listened.

He couldn’t hear anything.

Carefully, Regulus pushed open the door and stepped inside. The light coming in the windows in great streak looked like mid-afternoon light and he looked around and saw there was a bed at the far end with the curtain pulled ‘round for privacy. Madam Pomfrey sat behind her desk at the front and she raised her eyebrows at him, studying him a moment, “Yes? Can I help you?” she requested.

Regulus inched forward. “I’m… I thought I might… that I might visit my brother. He’s Sirius. Sirius Black. He’s… he’s here, I think. I’m Regulus.”

The words came out before he’d realize he was going to say them and he felt his palms pool with clammy sweat and his throat grew a great lump and he looked up at Madam Pomfrey with wide eyes, half hoping she’d say no, just so that he had an excuse not to do it.

Pomfrey studied him a moment, “Very well. He’s at the end of the row.” She waved her palm.

Regulus nodded and turned toward the ward. He flexed his fingers, balling and unballing his fists, his heart thumping horribly in his chest, and he walked very carefully over to the bed. He stood at the curtain nervously and he could hear Remus Lupin talking quietly…

“...and besides I don’t reckon coffee is very good for a werewolf,” Remus was saying.

“But there are loads of people who say they’re right irritable before they’ve had their caffeine in the morning, yeah? So why not? Perhaps if you had a strong cuppa after transforming your irritability would go away. See?” Sirius’s voice was challenging.

“So instead of wanting to eat people, I’d just settle in and read the paper with a nice smoking jacket?”

“I was envisioning a burgundy one, specifically, with black trim. You’d look right good in that. With a big gnarled pipe.”

“I don’t smoke.”

“You’d be sexy fuck if you did.”

“You’re dirty.”

“Always.”

“So how do you reckon that I, as a werewolf, drink this coffee? In a mug? With my many posable wolf thumbs?”

“Could maybe pour it into a dish. You could lick it up.”

“You just like the idea of me licking things.”

“I do, it’s true.”

Regulus backed up uncertainly. They were having a private conversation. Sure, it sounded as though it was nonsense, but it could very well be extremely important. One could never tell for sure. He reckoned he better not be interrupting, and so he stumbled back, away from the curtain and back across the ward. Madam Pomfrey looked up as he came back by her desk, headed for the door.

“Leaving already?” she asked concerned.

“Yeah, he’s… asleep, I’ll - I’ll come back.”

“I’ll tell him you were about,” Pomfrey replied, looking down at her parchments.

“No it’s alright,” Regulus replied, “Don’t. I’d - I’d rather it be a surprise later.” He turned before she could ask anything further and he ducked out of the ward and back into the hall, his heart pounding, and ran off, away from the hospital wing, away from Sirius.




James clutched onto Lucy as she held onto him. Her hands were shaking. She was crying still. The door of the library closed and he could hear Maryrose-Lucy yelling as Rudolphus and Walburga hauled her up the stairs to the room marked R.A.B. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know where to go. He knew he had to get Lucy out of there, but he also didn’t want to leave Maryrose there. And he had no idea what her plan was, didn’t know if she’d already thought it all through, or if by him doing something he might mess up her plot. He knew he had to make a choice about what to do and he had to do it as quickly as possible.

“Alright, alright, what to do, what to do?” he pressed himself, thinking quickly through every option he had. The best thing he could do was to get Lucy out and then come back for Maryrose. He’d take Lucy outside, maybe leave her in the park across the street or something perhaps, maybe she’d be safe enough there for now, then he could come back and get Maryrose and -- No, that wouldn’t work because he couldn’t leave Lucy there in the square. What if something happened he couldn’t come back for her? What if he had to have Kreacher apparate him and Maryrose out of the house before he could get back to the square for Lucy?

Kreacher. That was it. Kreacher! He had to get to Kreacher. Kreacher could get Maryrose while he himself took care for Lucy. He hurried to the door, making sure that Lucy stayed steady on his back and he laced his fingers together to keep her on his back. He opened the door to the library and looked around the stairwell. There was flashing light and shouting coming from upstairs. He could hear Maryrose’s voice carrying down the stairs and his stomach turned and there was Voldemort’s voice, loud and horrid, and James had all he could do not to turn up there anyway… If it wasn’t for the child clinging to him and crying into his back in fear, he would have charged up there… He forced himself to turn down the stairs and he heard sounds in the kitchen and he looked in warily, spotting Kreacher there, smacking his face against the cupboard door in exasperation, looking quite put out. “Kreacher!” he hissed, “Kreacher!”

The elf looked over.

“Kreacher, you’ve got to help me, like Regulus commanded.” And James knelt down to quickly tell the elf exactly what he needed him to do.