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“Four hours in, and Regulus is reading in the sitting room with Marcel on one side and Malcolm on the other. It's the only book in the house they have for kids, one that was James' when he was a child. Malcolm is very invested, his fingers twisting Regulus' sleeve as he leans on his arm, inhaling in palpable excitement every time Regulus turns a page. On the other side, meanwhile, Marcel is passed the fuck out, drooling on Regulus' other arm, head resting in the crook of his elbow.
When Sirius shows back up, it's with apologies for taking so long, and gratitude for Regulus helping him out. He holds out his hands in offering, ready to go, and Marcel twists up to whisper in Malcolm's ear. Malcolm looks down at Marcel, then looks at Regulus, then looks at Sirius with his brave face on.
Malcolm says, bluntly, "We want to stay here.”
― Crimson Rivers
When Sirius shows back up, it's with apologies for taking so long, and gratitude for Regulus helping him out. He holds out his hands in offering, ready to go, and Marcel twists up to whisper in Malcolm's ear. Malcolm looks down at Marcel, then looks at Regulus, then looks at Sirius with his brave face on.
Malcolm says, bluntly, "We want to stay here.”
― Crimson Rivers
“Is it that bad, if that is what this is?" Evan asks. "If all I am is you, and no part of me is here, think about how long you've had hope for yourself. Think about how long you've believed in yourself. Think about how long you've been urging yourself to climb. Think about how far you've gotten, just as you."
"Maybe," Regulus rasps, "but I really wish it was you."
Evan sighs. "I'm dead, Regulus."
"I know, Evan," Regulus says, and his voice cracks. "I know."
"Everyone else, and you let them go," Evan whispers. "You learned to let them go, and learned to keep them even though you had. But not me."
"You—you're—" Regulus shakes his head, feeling his face twitch and twist, trying so hard not to cry. You're the first person I learned to trust again, he doesn't say. You're the first person I really, truly lost; the first person I could never get back, he doesn't say. What he says, instead, makes his voice crack. "You're my best friend."
And it's true. Even now, it's true, and Regulus knows it, so Evan does, too. "You were mine, too," Evan says, and then he tilts his head a bit. "After the arena, you dreamed of me because you couldn't let me go."
"I know."
"Why did you stop?"
"Because I knew I needed to," Regulus chokes out.”
― Crimson Rivers
"Maybe," Regulus rasps, "but I really wish it was you."
Evan sighs. "I'm dead, Regulus."
"I know, Evan," Regulus says, and his voice cracks. "I know."
"Everyone else, and you let them go," Evan whispers. "You learned to let them go, and learned to keep them even though you had. But not me."
"You—you're—" Regulus shakes his head, feeling his face twitch and twist, trying so hard not to cry. You're the first person I learned to trust again, he doesn't say. You're the first person I really, truly lost; the first person I could never get back, he doesn't say. What he says, instead, makes his voice crack. "You're my best friend."
And it's true. Even now, it's true, and Regulus knows it, so Evan does, too. "You were mine, too," Evan says, and then he tilts his head a bit. "After the arena, you dreamed of me because you couldn't let me go."
"I know."
"Why did you stop?"
"Because I knew I needed to," Regulus chokes out.”
― Crimson Rivers
“Maybe the storm that coats his skin should tarnish his return, but Regulus finds that it doesn't, that maybe nothing in this world can. There is just his brother, too excited to see them to dry off first.”
― Crimson Rivers
― Crimson Rivers
“Fucking dammit. This kid. This rude, demanding, unrepentant boy. The mess of it is, Aberforth does like the boy, likes him a hell of a lot more than he likes most people, and hell of a lot more than ever liked his brother. Aberforth just might be one of the few people in this world—maybe the only one—who preferred Regulus to Sirius even when they were just dumb little shits building snow forts that blocked the sidewalks, which Aberforth had to shovel out the way, grunting and grumbling under his breath the whole time. Maybe it was because Regulus reminded him of Ariana, and himself; maybe it was because Sirius reminded him of Albus. He doesn't know what it was, but Aberforth has found himself thankful many times since Albus died that it was Sirius who gave the killing blow, not Regulus. It's easier to hate Sirius.
For Aberforth, hating Regulus isn't quite working out. He doesn't particularly care that the boy is getting married, and Aberforth had no urge to even attend the damn wedding, but then the boy showed up to demand he officiate it. The impulse to do so now, just because it matters that much, just because he matters that much to someone, still, to someone alive…it's strong. The impulse is really strong, except Sirius will be there, and Aberforth swore to never go back to district six until he was a pile of ashes. He won't, not even for the boy, arguably the last person in this world Aberforth even cares about on a personal level, and that's a bit of a stretch as it is.”
― Crimson Rivers
For Aberforth, hating Regulus isn't quite working out. He doesn't particularly care that the boy is getting married, and Aberforth had no urge to even attend the damn wedding, but then the boy showed up to demand he officiate it. The impulse to do so now, just because it matters that much, just because he matters that much to someone, still, to someone alive…it's strong. The impulse is really strong, except Sirius will be there, and Aberforth swore to never go back to district six until he was a pile of ashes. He won't, not even for the boy, arguably the last person in this world Aberforth even cares about on a personal level, and that's a bit of a stretch as it is.”
― Crimson Rivers
“Outside," Regulus replies. "They're making mud-pies, so prepare for the mess."
"Mm, nothing we can't handle," James assures him. "We've certainly had worse."
"Yes, that's true, but if either of those brats track mud into the kitchen, I'm shipping them off to Sirius and Remus without looking back," Regulus warns, eyes narrowing playfully.
James snorts. "You'd miss them and go get them back after three hours, don't even try it."
"At least four," Regulus counters, sliding his arms around James' shoulders, eyes sparkling with amusement. "I can entertain myself for four hours, surely."
"Oh?" James raises his eyebrows. "Don't you mean I could entertain you for four hours?"
Regulus' lips twitch. "No, because I'm shipping you off with them. I've earned the break. I'm done with you Potters."
"You're a Potter," James reminds him, amused.
"Baby, I'll always be a Black," Regulus tells him, reaching up to card his fingers through James' hair. He leans in and starts mouthing along James' jaw, which James is very pleased about, actually. "No matter my name, that doesn't change."
"Dad! Dad, look, we found a frog!" comes the abrupt shriek from outside, along with more delighted screams.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Regulus groans, letting his head thunk down on James' shoulder. "Really, can't we just send them back from whence they came?"
"And where is that?"
"Hell."
James laughs, turning his head to smack a kiss to Regulus' cheek, then down the side of his face, then the scar on the side of his neck. "It's a bit pointless to do that. You'd go through hell just to get them back, and you know it."
"Dad, it peed on me!"
"Shit, shit, shit," Regulus chants, jolting away from James to rush towards the door. "Put it down, you little demons! Step away from the frog right now!" He's still grumbling as he slips out the door. "Just like your father. Literal spawns of Satan himself. What did I say about staying out of tr…"
James sighs softly and leans back against the bar, grabbing his cane again, eyes drifting shut as he listens to the sounds of his family, lips curled up. Then, from his pocket, there's a sudden cry that makes his eyes snap open.
Ah, yes, the joys of parenthood. Frogs and squalling infants.
James wouldn't change a damn thing.”
― Crimson Rivers
"Mm, nothing we can't handle," James assures him. "We've certainly had worse."
"Yes, that's true, but if either of those brats track mud into the kitchen, I'm shipping them off to Sirius and Remus without looking back," Regulus warns, eyes narrowing playfully.
James snorts. "You'd miss them and go get them back after three hours, don't even try it."
"At least four," Regulus counters, sliding his arms around James' shoulders, eyes sparkling with amusement. "I can entertain myself for four hours, surely."
"Oh?" James raises his eyebrows. "Don't you mean I could entertain you for four hours?"
Regulus' lips twitch. "No, because I'm shipping you off with them. I've earned the break. I'm done with you Potters."
"You're a Potter," James reminds him, amused.
"Baby, I'll always be a Black," Regulus tells him, reaching up to card his fingers through James' hair. He leans in and starts mouthing along James' jaw, which James is very pleased about, actually. "No matter my name, that doesn't change."
"Dad! Dad, look, we found a frog!" comes the abrupt shriek from outside, along with more delighted screams.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Regulus groans, letting his head thunk down on James' shoulder. "Really, can't we just send them back from whence they came?"
"And where is that?"
"Hell."
James laughs, turning his head to smack a kiss to Regulus' cheek, then down the side of his face, then the scar on the side of his neck. "It's a bit pointless to do that. You'd go through hell just to get them back, and you know it."
"Dad, it peed on me!"
"Shit, shit, shit," Regulus chants, jolting away from James to rush towards the door. "Put it down, you little demons! Step away from the frog right now!" He's still grumbling as he slips out the door. "Just like your father. Literal spawns of Satan himself. What did I say about staying out of tr…"
James sighs softly and leans back against the bar, grabbing his cane again, eyes drifting shut as he listens to the sounds of his family, lips curled up. Then, from his pocket, there's a sudden cry that makes his eyes snap open.
Ah, yes, the joys of parenthood. Frogs and squalling infants.
James wouldn't change a damn thing.”
― Crimson Rivers
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