1977

Regulus' Black 1977 started horribly.

He had fixed his leg and now the bone was back to place, but there's little he could do about the sore spots that stayed behind as he lied in bed still dirty and bloodied by the road he had taken. He wanted to disappear and never exist again.

His world had fallen apart, but everybody else's seemed to keep turning and he hated how he, selfishly, wished everything to stop just for a moment – just one moment where he would grieve by himself.

Regulus had killed someone.

His hands shook, they had no visible blood in them and yet he could feel it all over himself. He had broken in soul – he was no better than the man that he was forced to follow and wished to be nothing like. He had killed a man that had no idea he was in danger until he turned, confused about the young boy he saw holding a stick towards him with a shaky hand; 'hey, boy, what are –' and he never finished the sentence, the green light hit him straight to the chest before he could. The family of the muggle man would find some solace with the idea that it had been a natural deal, after all that was all muggles could see, but he would know the truth, he would feel the weight of his body over his shoulder forever.

Murder. He was a murderer.

He did his best not to sob too loud as he put his hands over his mouth, trying to get everything out at once. He was home alone, but even walls have ears in his mind once he was that paranoid. He couldn't be alone, but he had no one to turn to at the moment; Severus was dealing with his own shit and he had no other friend.

So, he wrote his lover.

Dearest of Annes,

My heart, I hope not to disappoint you somehow, but I failed to come back whole as you asked me to. A piece of my soul was left behind by the things I was forced to do – I take comfort in the idea that you understand it was either me or them, and yet I beat myself up for the idea of the blood in my hands.

Anne, my darling, I beg of you company if possible. Even if inconvenient, I ask of you to come either way. I cannot be alone; I fear what my mind will trick me into doing or thinking if I'm alone for too long. Come to me, talk to me, embrace me at once. I'm too tired to pretend not to be clingy and needy of you in my arms and mind.

Mother is with Narcissa. Father is with the Lestrange family (horrid people I'm glad to be away).

Can you come over?

I suppose, I forgot to say 'Happy New Year'.

From what's left of me,

Regulus Arc. Black.

And he sent it, lying back in bed, shaking and trying to keep the little soup he had eaten down in his stomach. He felt like he didn't deserve to eat and he felt like he didn't deserve to be alive at his life led to that moment. He was better off dead; he hung onto the thought that Anne needed his intel and information to get everything done, so that war could end quicker and impact less lives than it did the first time she lived through it.

Regulus couldn't stop himself anymore once the smell of blood attacked his nose again, even if this time it was his own blood – he turned to the side, throwing up all over the carpet and choking several times as he lied on his side, shaking and unable to get up or reach for his wand to clean everything up. He just cried in silence.

It was oddly resemblant of the day Sirius left; the same feeling of helplessness and loneliness on the bedroom he usually sought cover in. His shelter somehow tainted by the world outside of it.

The door opened.

Alarmed, he looked up.

Anne was standing there in thick white velvety trousers and a white turtle neck. Her hair was up in a ponytail. She looked beautiful and innocent as she stood there, wide-eyed and worried.

"Regulus!" she exclaimed.

Her wand was in her hand at once, waving it once and getting rid of his mess before running to him in his bed and sitting beside him.

He couldn't hold himself back.

The sobs started as he threw himself on her arms, she took him in well, his head resting on her chest as she heard him wail like a child that scraped its knee and needed attention about it. He was hurt and scared. That was something she could understand, sympathize and listen to, even if he shared no words with her as he hung onto her as if she was the only thing keeping him away from drowning.

She did her best to emulate to do as James did to her when she was scared of her nightmares of flashbacks.

"You're alright," she mumbled. "You're home now. You're safe and away from there. I'm here. You'll be alright. Take a deep breath. It's done. It's over."

But it wasn't and, by the way Regulus met her eyes, they both knew that.

"I killed him," he sobbed.

As if afraid of her reaction, he hid his face on her neck. She didn't stiff under him nor did she move uncomfortable, she just petted his back and allowed him to get it all, not caring that he was dirty and sweaty.

"You're alright now, Regulus. You're with me and you're safe while you're with me; you know that," she said. "You did what you had to do and I understand that, anyone with half-a-mind will understand. We all do that to survive. We all do some things we're not proud of to keep ourselves alive."

"I don't like this," Regulus grumbled against her.

"I know, I know," she soothed. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, I'm sure it was hard for you. But you're alright now. I'm right here, Little Prince, right here and I'm not going anywhere until you want me to."

Regulus pulled away from the embrace for one moment. His lips went towards her before he pulled away.

"I vomited," he reminded himself.

Anne laughed, amused by his reaction.

"Do you want to brush your teeth?" she asked.

"I don't want to let go," he said.

Anne smiled.

"No problem," she dismissed. "I'll go with you, don't worry. Come on, get up."

Regulus did, pulling himself up from the bed and not letting go on her waist as they walked towards the bathroom. He didn't care he sounded pathetic, he just wanted Anne to be near because that meant she was safe and, more important than anything, on his sight, therefore he could protect her much like she could protect him. That's how they worked: together; them against the world, if needed.

Anne was quiet, watching him brush his teeth.

She was searching on his face anything that indicated that he wasn't well in any way other than emotional. His physical health was just as important, but he was covered from neck to toe in dark clothes and seemed so distraught that there was no way she could do anything without his request.

"Did you ever kill someone, Anne?" he asked once he spat.

Anne looked away from his body, looking for stiffness and difficulties moving, and went to his eyes.

"It depends on what you're asking," she said, looking a bit pale. "Did I even throw the Unforgivable Death Curse? No. Have my actions brought death upon people, both deserving and innocent? Yes," she admitted. "Regulus, it's as a said, we do what we must and no more. Understand that I know that you wouldn't do that unprovoked or if you had any other choice."

"I said 'I'm sorry'," he said. "There's very little it can do. I don't think he even understood, I said it in English."

"I'm sure he caught the meaning," she said. "I used Crucio on Bellatrix before."

He turned to her at once. Anne hurriedly looked away; if she was telling that story in detail, she didn't need Regulus looking at her.

"What?!"

"When she killed Sirius. Harry was... off, his anger blinded him, he was loud and caught a lot of attention, so they held him back. I was faster and quieter, so there was no one trying to hold me; I got there before she could even finish singing 'I killed Sirius Black'," she told. "I attacked her from behind. She didn't see me coming, but she did look at me once she was on the ground... and I smiled," she looked at his eyes. "I was provoked and I would've killed her had I had the time to do so. But Vold—the Dark Lord got there, stupefied me so harshly that I was thrown back. I thought I was going to die that moment and I prepared for it, I was ready to throw the Death Curse at her because if I was going down, she was coming with me, but Dumbledore got there with Harry just behind him. Harry protected me quickly and Dumbledore caught the attention."

"Do you think you would have regretted it?" Regulus asked.

She shrugged.

"Sometimes I think so, but there's sometimes that I regret I didn't do right away," she said. "Had I not been so angry, I wouldn't have wanted her to suffer and 'Crucio' wouldn't have been my first choice. If I had a better grip on my emotions when I was fourteen, she would be dead and things would've changed a lot. The torture I had to go through would've been very different, maybe even better than what I went through."

"Bella is so... loyal to him."

"She's obsessed with him," she corrected. "And it'll get worse. She kills without hesitation, without regret and without the horrible feeling of the soul breaking – you didn't. You're better person. Don't dwell on it."

"That's easy to say," he grumbled, bitter.

"And hard to do, but necessary nonetheless," Anne said. "What you had to go through, it was a terrible thing and one that you'll have to live with for the rest of your life. Make sure the life you took was no wasted in vain. Make sure people after you will not have to do go through what you did."

Regulus didn't need to know much more about her past to know that it was exactly what Anne had been telling herself as she grew up; every single terrible thing she had live through, she didn't want anyone else to do so, so she was more than willing to take it all by herself, carry the weight.

He held his hand out for her. Anne took it with a small smile, understanding of his wish for touch. They walked back to his room holding hands and sat on his bed side by side.

"Things do get better?" he asked.

"Once you grasp the motive, yes," she said.

His motive was her, no more, no less; no war.

A loud creaking made Regulus pale once more as he jumped out of the bed, stumbling to the side with the shock. Confused, Anne got up as well, but didn't get near the door because Regulus held her arm tight.

"Under the bed," he whispered.

Anne wanted to know what was going on, of course, but she was smart enough to know it wasn't time to ask. She just threw herself on the ground and quickly rolled under the bed, watching as Regulus quickly moved his covers to block the foot of his bed, leaving just a small opening where she could see the very bottom of his bedroom door.

She stayed there for a moment and was ready to roll out and ask what everything was about when the door opened at once.

"Feeling any better?" a woman's voice asked.

Anne felt her stomach drop.

Walburga was back.

"Yes, Mother, the resting made it a lot better. Thank you for convincing Father that socializing was not the best at the moment," Regulus asked.

She bit her lip, hating how terribly genuine Regulus sounded as she watched him thank the woman that made his life a hell. He was so depended on her! He was so... willing for her.

"It's alright, I understand long trips can be tiring sometimes," Walburga said. Her voice sounded a lot sweeter at that moment than it was the whole dinner Anne had been present. "I heard from Bellatrix about your little adventure and I can see how it could be tiring. Winning from Roddy in a duel is quite the feat, you do understand that, don't you, Regulus, dear?"

"Yes, Mother," he said.

"I suppose I have been teaching you well," she sounded like she had just made a joke.

Anne caught the joke a second too late. The tortures; that was what she was calling 'teaching' him to duel, when he had been unable to defend himself and learning how to bear the pain of curses and hexes. Anne's lips curled in disgust as she glared at the expensive leather shoes on the doorway.

"Yes, Mother," he said once more, this time voice wavering.

"Did you just wake up?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "I took some time resting, but I was thinking on going through my school stuff. I suppose I could use the time to study a bit."

"Good boy," she said. She took a step back, starting to close the door slowly, but she stopped. The door opened once more and Anne bit her lip to keep herself quiet. "Regulus... you are aware I'm very proud of you, aren't you? What you did was a very mature, stepping up when your brother (may he pay for his decisions) failed to see the light of the situation. I know you wanted to be a boy for a little bit more before turning into a man, and that's why I'm pushing away engagements for now, as a reward for your services."

"I –" Regulus sounded choked up and somewhat confused. "Thank you, Mum."

Silence.

The door closed.

The heels clicked away and she probably went down the stairs.

Anne didn't move until Regulus was on his hands and knees beside his bed, trying to look at her.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "I'm sorry, she wasn't supposed to be back already. I'm supposed to have another hour or so by myself."

"It's alright," she dismissed. "Are you alright?"

Silence.

She made her way from underneath the bed and he helped her get up as his mind clearly tried for find a suitable answer for her question, but he didn't seem to do so, because the silence elongated for almost a whole minute.

"I don't think she has ever said she is proud of me before," was all he managed to say.

Anne hated Walburga Black with all her strength as she glared at the door.

Regulus was everything every mother was supposed to be proud of. He was swimming champion, he played instruments and was academically gifted; he was kind and understanding, he was strong and completely ready to help those who needed and he could help. How could anyone not be proud of him? He was so brave! So smart! And yet, Walburga failed to see his wonderful side, only seeing his failures because that's all she knew how to do – with Sirius, with Orion, with Regulus; no one seemed safe from her judgments and bitterness, even though none of them had anything to do with the way she had turned out.

He took a deep breath.

"Kreacher!" he called out.

With a loud pop, the elf appeared in his room, eyes wide and he smoothed down his pillowcase. His wide eyes stopped – surprisingly – on Anne before going to Regulus, standing tall as he waited for his orders.

"Young Master," he greeted. "Miss."

"Hello, Kreacher. Long time no see," she said, smiling at him. "How have you been?"

"Kreacher is fine, Miss," the elf said.

"Kreacher, I need you to take Miss Sage –"

"Miss Potter, Master," he corrected.

The two froze.

Anne turned to Regulus in surprise. She knew he trusted the elf, but she hadn't expected him to tell him about her truth.

"I didn't say anything," he defended himself quickly once he felt her eyes on him. "How do you know that?" he asked the elf.

"Miss Potter certainly looks a lot like her father, Kreacher saw yous in the train station," he said.

Anne didn't dare to ask the old elf who he thought Anne's father to be, she just smiled as best as she could through her nervousness.

"Well, Kreacher, I'd be very happy if you could somehow refrain yourself from commenting on it to anyone," she said. "And, if you don't see a problem, keep on referring to me as Miss Sage or just Miss Anne."

Regulus watched as Kreacher looked at her in surprise before turning to him, searching for the confirmation he was allowed to take orders or requests from her.

"From now on, if Anne ever tells you anything, you must obey her as if she's the Mistress of the house, alright?" Regulus asked. Kreacher's eyes widened as he nodded urgently. "Now, you will not tell anything about your discovery to anyone and not comment on it in front of anyone. Understood?"

"Yes, Young Master," said the elf.

"Good. Now, pop Anne on the Potter Cottage and then come back straight here, alright?" Regulus said. "And do cut my mother some fruit. She'll certainly be distracted with it and leave us alone for some time before starting to scream again."

Kreacher nodded.

He offered his tiny hand to Anne, who smiled at him and took it.

Regulus stood alone in the middle of his room on the next second, hating every second of his life again.