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Understandings


Regulus fell to the wood floor of his bedroom as he and Walburga apparated just two floors above where they’d been moments before. He could still hear the reactions of the Order and the Resistance echoing their way up the stairs, still hear the cracks and pops as Death Eaters fled the scene. Walburga Black grabbed his elbow, jerking him up from the floor and pulling him away from the door, kneeling before him. “Listen to me,” she hissed, staring into his eyes, “This is extremely important. You cannot let the Dark Lord see you react to this.”

“What?” Regulus blinked in surprise, still getting his bearings for he hadn’t expected to be disapparated away - his stomach had turned horribly from the unexpected motion, and he was dizzy, trying to focus on the room, and now here was his mother, saying things that made no sense. “But --”

“You can’t let him know how this - or any of the deaths you see - affects you.” She looked at him imploringly. “Regulus, we’re in very, very grave danger. Do you understand?”

“I -- wait, Mother, what’re you --”

“Regulus. I know you’ve been questioning the ways of the Dark Lord for some time now. And so have I. While his intentions are pure, his methods are dark.”

He looked alarmed. He wasn’t sure about the intentions, either, but he instinctively knew that telling Walburga he wasn’t sure how he felt about blood purity would result in the sort of trouble that he’d expected after all. It would result in him being in the same position as Sirius - but without friends he could trust as Sirius Black had.

Sirius is lucky, thought Regulus, and his heart suddenly ached quite fiercely. He would never have friends like Sirius had.

“But -- and this is very, very important -- nobody can know it, Regulus. He cannot know.”

Regulus nodded numbly, trying to comprehend what was being told to him in rushed, hushed tones. “I’m - I’m learning occlumency…”

“Very good. From whom?”

“Severus Snape.”

She looked uneasy. “Don’t trust Severus Snape,” she said, her voice hard.

Regulus said, “But Severus is my friend.”

“Severus is on the path to becoming a Death Eater. He may be your friend now, but he will not stay as such. And there is animosity between our families. His grudges are his mother’s grudges.” She scowled, “And the filthy half-blood he is… no, you cannot trust Severus Snape.”

Then, she spoke lowly, “Is there a member of the staff, someone who might be able to help you? Someone who understands the need to keep a secret? To hide from the Dark Lord at all costs?”

“I - I don’t know, I don’t know any of the staff members very well,” Regulus said, stammering, thinking, letting their faces flash before his mind’s eye, “Most of them are in the Resistance --”

“What about Horace Slughorn?”

Severus blinked in surprise, “Yeah, I suppose there’s Slughorn, but I don’t know him very --”

There was a creak on the stairs and Walburga looked up, interrupting her son with her palm covering his mouth suddenly, her face concerned. “We have to go. No more talk of this. You and I must act as though nothing has changed. Your father is dead because of small mistakes. You understand the danger we are in?”

“Yes, but --”

“Quiet. Come.” She grabbed onto his shoulder and they disapparated away.

Gideon Prewett shoved the door opened only seconds after they were gone - shining his illuminated wand about the room, looking, searching… He shook his head and backed up, looking down the stairs at Alastor Moody. “There ain’t anybody in here, old man, your magic’s eye’s cracked up.”

Moody jerked the arms of the newly unmasked Igor Karkaroff and Abraxus Malfoy - each bound by the incarcerous and silenced by a charm as well. His magical eye swivelled about the house, searching the other rooms, looking over every nook and cranny. “They must’ve gone, then, they had one of the kids with them,” he growled. “So bloody damn close… At least we’ve got these two slugs.” He shoved Malfoy along and jerked Karkaroff behind him, “We’ve got ter get these two to the Ministry before they try’n get away. Come on, Prewett Two.”

Gideon smirked - Moody had always called him and his brother Prewett One and Prewett Two, all through training in the Auror Program. I’ll never bloody tell you apart and frankly I don’t give a god-damn to try , either, Moody had said. Good ol’ Moody… Gideon turned and pulled Regulus’s bedroom door closed behind him, heading down the stairs to help Moody with wrassling the two Death Eaters away.




Sirius held Dumbledore’s hand numbly. They apparated somewhere entirely different - a small, dusty room that smelled heavily of liquor. It was dark, the shutters drawn tight against the window, not even a sliver of moonlight trickled in and Sirius stumbled away from Dumbledore, collapsing into a chair in the corner and pulling his knees up to his chest so he sat in a ball on the chair, looking quite pale and concerned, his eyes searching the dark.

With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore set a fire to blazing in the hearth and warmth began to fill up the room. Dumbledore hesitated at the door, then said, “I will return in just a moment, Mr. Black.”

Sirius didn’t answer.

His mind was too busy working over everything that had happened. James was dead and then alive but not for long - the Dark Lord would kill him, the seer had said - and then he’d come and there was fighting, so much fighting - Remus had tried to eat him, his own boyfriend! - Remus! Now missing, taken by that horrible woman and Fenrir Greyback, one of the most evil, notorious followers of Voldemort there’d ever been! And Orion Black - dead! Tortured by the cruciatus, then murdered in cold blood - for not having killed his son - for failing to kill his son and his friends. The Dark Lord’s voice echoed in Sirius’s head. One day you’ll snap… and Sirius wondered if this overwhelming, compressing, horrible feeling that was filling up his chest now was the snap that Voldemort had meant…

Suddenly Dumbledore was before him with a little tray. “Drink this,” he instructed and he handed Sirius a mug.

Sirius drank it. It was warmed firewhiskey - and it burned all the way to his belly and his head felt as though all his thoughts were smudging together, and the less clear they became, the less tense his muscles felt, and he started to breathe a little easier, melting into the chair. Dumbledore turned to the tray and he assembled a couple of sandwiches from the ingredients he’d collected and he cut them in half with a flick of his wand and held half of one out to Sirius. “Eat,” Dumbledore instructed him, “You’ll feel better once you have.”

Sirius felt his heart sink. Eat, you’ll feel better, he could hear Remus’s voice in his head saying those very words. It was Remus’s favorite thing to say, it seemed, whenever anyone around him was upset. Though it was usually a bit of Honeydukes from his pocket that he produced when he said it…

“Where’s Remus?” Sirius implored, not taking the sandwich, but staring up at Dumbledore with begging eyes. Dumbledore shook the sandwich and Sirius took it reluctantly, holding it on top of his knees. “Sir?”

“I don’t know for certain,” Dumbledore said, “But I have my guesses and -- if I am correct -- we will know soon and I have… delegates… that can help us if I am right.”

Sirius’s eyes filled with tears. “I was so stupid. I was so stupid, leaving him there for them to steal him away again.”

“It is not your fault, Mr. Black,” Dumbledore said. “Eat.”

Sirius took a bite, but the food turned his stomach as he chewed so after a moment he put it back on his knee and took another sip of the firewhiskey.

Dumbledore sat down with a sigh on the edge of the bed, running a hand over his eyes. “I never would’ve been taken away from that school,” he murmured.

Sirius lowered the mug from his mouth. He’d never seen Dumbledore look as upset as he did now. “Sir?” he said tentatively.

Dumbledore looked up, his mouth frowning beneath his beard. “I make a habit of being certain Mr. Lupin makes it safely to the Shrieking Shack every month, Mr. Black, and this is the first month that I have not personally seen to it that he is safely to his destination… and this is the month that they attack.”

Sirius hesitated, wondering when exactly Dumbledore had ever checked on Remus. This simply wasn’t true. He could only think of once - maybe twice - that he knew of that Dumbledore had ever checked on Remus in the Shrieking Shack…

“It is very fortunate that your friends were prepared to mount a rescue attempt - very fortunate that you asked them for help - you could have ended up dead on your own.” Dumbledore looked very pale in the flickering of a fire in the hearth. “I must say that I am rather impressed with not only the number of students, but the variety that you’ve collected in your… organization. You’ve done very well.”

“Potter did it,” Sirius murmured, “I wasn’t hardly involved at all… being expelled and all…”

“Ah yes. Another thing that never should have happened - or would have happened had I been at the school.” Dumbledore scowled fiercely, then stood up. He began to pace back and forth, back and forth. “You needed the protection that Hogwarts had to offer…” Dumbledore took a deep breath. “I am very sorry, Mr. Black, for all that has happened this past month. These past few hours…”

Sirius stared at the hearth, took another sip of the firewhiskey, because all he wanted to do was forget the last few hours completely… to wake up the next day and find, perhaps, none of it had happened at all, that he had simply fallen asleep in the Shrieking Shack and Remus was just coming up through the trapdoor for the Full Moon and he’d tell him all about the terrible nightmare he’d had and Remus would hug him and kiss him and he’d feel the warmth of him and they’d lay about the Shack until the moon rise and then they’d spend the night as dogs, warm in each other’s fur… He could almost smell the fur…

“I, of course, did not do it myself, exactly, but someone must apologize to you Sirius, you deserve that much, and I seem to be the only one that will have the decency to do it,” Dumbledore said. He stared at Sirius with a deeply furrowed brow, concern swimming in his eyes.

Sirius looked up. “I’ll forgive every last person involved, from you to Voldemort to the Minister for Magic to Professor Mopsus and beyond if only I can have my Moony back in one piece,” he said thickly.

Dumbledore nodded. “I will do everything - everything - in my power to ensure that is so, Sirius,” he promised.

Sirius’s lower lip trembled. “I don’t think that anyone in the world understands how much I need Remus Lupin.”

Dumbledore’s voice was low, “I do, Mr. Black. I understand more than you will ever know.”

Sirius drank the last of the firewhiskey and put the mug down on the tray.