I'M BACK EARLY! I hope you all like it! 

Hogwarts' whispers spoke of many things, but most of them about how fit Regulus Black looked in his Captain uniform as he walked towards the Quidditch pitch with the rest of the Slytherin team walking behind him.

Unfortunately for his admirers, Luna seemed to always be nearby, even during Quidditch try-outs, which was usually kept very private from the other Houses for better surprise when the games started. It was surprising for most, especially because Slytherin was the first House to have try-outs, just two weeks into the school year. There were whispers about Luna sitting in the benches on the ground rather than the bleachers, but nobody dared to question Regulus about it, after all Luna seemed rather busy going through her correspondence, not even looking up and watching the training.

By the time the try-outs ended, with Regulus choosing one second-year, a third-year student and one sixth-year that had been trying out for a few years at that point, Regulus went back down to the ground and watched as the other team members ran around in quick succession to gather their things and hit the showers.

"Do you think it's bad that we only have one girl at the team?" Regulus asked, sitting a bit further from Luna, with her unopened letters between them.

Luna made a little noise, not paying attention, but finished the paragraph and looked up in interest.

"Hm?" she asked.

She blinked, looking at Regulus as if just realising he was there, sitting beside her.

"Miss Zoe Greengrass, she's the only girl in the team. Parkinson graduated. We're short on girls," he explained, ignoring the sting deep in his chest. "Professor Slughorn says that we must keep a good number in all our activities for some reason."

"Equality," Luna answered directly.

"Well, there was one second-year girl trying-out and she wasn't good at all. Am I wrong for not choosing her, even if I end up with one single girl?" he asked.

"No," she said.

Annoyed with her one-word answers, Regulus leaned over the unopened letters to see what she was doing, not caring that he was smelling to sweat and effort. However, much to his dismay, he didn't understand nor recognise the handwriting.

"Who writes block letters?" he scoffed.

Luna's lips twitched, amused by his offense and interest. She knew he liked his calligraphy far too much to even attempt writing in block letters, which was something children did in his mind.

"Americans," she said.

He raised her eyebrows at her. "Who do you know that is American? – Oh... do you mean --?" he started, but cut himself off.

Luna looked at him and give him a short nod.

"It's Florian," she admitted.

Regulus scowl was certainly amusing, but she managed to keep herself from laughing at his face right then and there. However, he could see her lack of shame or guilt and was unsatisfied with her lack of immediate explanation.

"Why is he writing you a letter?" he asked.

"Because he wants to tell me things, private things, so don't peek at it," she said, giving him a false glare. "But I can say that he thinks it's for the best if you write to your mother a bit more than usual."

Regulus crossed his arms.

"She's not been answering my letters," he admitted. It was a big part as to why he was in such a bad mood lately. "Father wrote to me and said Mother has been under the weather lately, but that the Medi-wizard they visited said she was alright."

Luna slowly folded the letter in her hands.

"Florian thinks your mother is depressed, actually, so I don't think a Medi-Wizard would somehow see anything wrong with her through spells," Luna explained. "He said that your father has been keeping contact with him, but your mother misunderstood it as him attempting to reconnect with Patricia. Florian insists that they have not talked at all after their meeting, the one you were at, but your mother doesn't believe him."

"Father's been talking to him? Whatever for? He signed the bloody papers," Regulus said, bitterly.

"He's been helping Florian find a job. He's almost at the end of his courses and will need to find somewhere to go, because he won't have a teaching license here in the UK for another year or so, and he's not familiar enough with the magical world here to try on his own, so your father is helping him. Publicly, he is just sponsoring Florian until he meets the right people – networking and all that, like your mother did to me at the start of our relationship," she explained. "He's just sending letters here and there for people to meet with Florian and give him a chance."

He sat there for a moment, in complete and uncomfortable silence. It took a surprisingly long time until he cleared his throat and turned to Luna again.

"Has he... got anything in mind yet?" he asked.

Luna gave him a kind smile, almost as if congratulating him for demonstrating any sort of interest in Florian.

"A probable one for after break," she said.

"What?"

She hesitated. "I'm not sure I should tell you yet," she admitted.

"You can't tell me?"

"I can. I just don't think I want to," she said, honestly.

Regulus didn't like that. His stomach squeezed and his heart ached. Luna didn't trust him with that information for some reason, and now he wanted it even more. He felt a warm feeling from his centre to his fingertips; it was very similar to anger.

"Whatever," he grumbled, getting up. "I'm going to wash myself. I'll see you at dinner."

"I thought we were going for a walk," she said, putting the letter aside to get up. She made no movement to get the unopened letters from her side as she rose from her seat. "You said you wanted to go to the Black Lake."

He did not look over his shoulder but rested his broom there. He walked slowly, as if his legs were heavy.

"I'm tired. Maybe tomorrow," he dismissed.

Luna opened her mouth, watching him walk away from her without looking back for a single moment. She closed her mouth, all too aware that there was nothing she could say to him to make him stop. Regulus needed to calm down away from her before they could talk again, it was a part of his personality that she had come to understand and accept – much like she sometimes needed a moment to cry, he needed a moment of anger; and both were parts of themselves they kept away from the other for betterment of their relationship.

Slowly, Luna sat back down and took Florian's letter at hand once more.

How could she tell Regulus that Florian might become Quidditch teacher and coach for Hogwarts after the break if Regulus could barely hear his bloody name before storming out as if someone had called his mother awful names. She also had no right to say that Florian had been hanging out more and more with her cousin Leticia, and that Sophia – Leticia's daughter – was becoming attached to him like a child to a blanket, many nights he would come to the house to help the babe sleep at night, when she had the most problem to fall asleep.

Besides, she was all too aware that Regulus was overwhelmed with the letters his cousin Bellatrix would send him every now and then. To her, it was gibberish, but Regulus took one look at the letter and his whole body would tense up, he would read it silent and pale like a statue. Terrified, but helpless, Luna sat there and watched Regulus looked older, exhausted and moodier by the day. She knew they were asking for the information they had left Regulus in charge of; not that he had admitted anything to her, far from it, but she was smart enough to put two and two together without his aid.

Regulus had a lot happening, and she didn't want to put more on his plate before she was certain it would happen.

So, Luna gathered her mother's letters, her father's letter and her grandparents' letter. Nain's letter had been read already, and was on the pocket of her robes – she still needed to answer it and tell her that she wasn't going home for Christmas, most likely.

Regulus wrote the most empathetic letter he could to his mother without outright tattling that Florian and Luna kept a rather open correspondence between each other. For most, he would sound like a worried son after a week and a half without a letter explaining her situation, but to his mother it would be obvious that he was just a desperate son begging for some sort of signal of life and love, perhaps some sort of caring from her. He knew she was very sad, but he was under a lot of stress, and he needed his mother to tell him that things would be alright, and he didn't need to be scared of dying.

Bellatrix's letters were starting to scare him more and more. Bella was, without the shadow of a doubt, a wonderfully smart woman. The creation of a coding spell that would allow only Regulus to read her letters written in her own blood was certainly a masterful move, it needed to be to get into the school without Dumbledore's understanding. When asked about it by Slughorn – for the spell was obvious in the letter, but is contents hidden – he had said it was about the Lestrange House's finances and that he, as House Heir, was helping his cousin as duty requested. His traditionalism had been commended, the unknown grey-magic in the letter had been forgotten.

The contents were a series of explanation as to why they needed Dumbledore's routine as fast as possible, and after a while of Regulus not giving them the information they wanted, the threats started. Not only they threatened the House's finances, power standing and political alliances, they had implied a threaten to Barty's life – and then to Luna's, and then to his own.

Regulus knew he needed to be fast, but he had so much to do.

He was the Quidditch Captain, a Prefect, one of the best students of his year (and keeping his grades was important), a boyfriend and a friend. He had so many parts, that he felt like an actor falling apart backstage. He couldn't fulfil any of his duties correctly. People were complaining about his leading in Quidditch, his moody exhaustion had made many of his rounds' partners to beg to exchange people, his grades had dropped and Luna seemed uninterested in pretending nothing was happening – when she wasn't questioning what was written in his letters, she seemed to hide what was written in hers. Thankfully, Luna seemed to understand his yearning for physical touch. Not only she was fine with seeming the needy one, always with a hand on his back, wrist or hand, but she also sneaked into the Slytherin Common Dormitories with him to spend licentious nights in his arms. He didn't need sex, he needed comfort, but without talking, that was the next best thing he could get.

It was already October when he wrote Bellatrix a letter, using her own spell to code it.

To Lady Bellatrix Lestrange,

Your lack of patience is as unsurprising as your unimaginative threats, Bellatrix. I do not fear you, but I do not doubt that you at least attempt half of those threats without before understanding how they would implicate your situation as well. Dare to touch the House of Black and I'll bury alive, think of hurting my friend Barty and you'll die, if you as much as feel any animosity towards my dear Miss Lupin and you'll wish you were dead. I hope that I made myself as clear as possible, because I won't warn you again.

Now, cousin, I have gathered the intel you so wished me to with the aid of Barty, which makes your threats even more senseless.

Most of the days, he is seen only during breakfast and supper at the Great Hall. His only day outside of the school walls is Sunday. I have seen him through a high window of Ravenclaw's Tower going out of Hogwarts between 4 in the morning, but he usually back before sunrise – sometimes around 5 in the morning, in some around 6. I do not think there's enough widow for anything that you intend to do, but that is the information.

I, obviously, could not find out his place of destiny without exposing my position or intentions, so I hope that is enough information for now.

The Heir of House of Black,

Mister Regulus Black.

PS: Hagrid seems to be the only one aware of Dumbledore's getaways, for he's the one to open the gates every week. He has never taken anyone with him in those outings.

It was hardly ideal. The feeling of guilt started pooling on his stomach as soon as the letter was sent, and he even thought of throwing a spell at the owl to make her come back. He had delusional thoughts of getting the letter and burning it, but the metal image of his own forearm and the marked inked in it made him change his mind. His Master had done nothing to him, but he couldn't guarantee his safety for long without doing his job. He had joined for his family's safety and standing, he had joined for his own safety and standing, so those could protect the people he loved. And now, more and more, he thought that perhaps he had made a mistake.

Blood-purity was important. Traditionalism was important. Violence and threats were things he was partial to, but not when his loved ones were the targets of it, even if it the worst of it. And while he understood the acceptance many of his circle had to the ideals and ideas, he couldn't understand the easiness that everything had been absorbed.

Yes, he did think he had more rights towards magic that Lily Evans, for example, but he couldn't deny that she was witch – and a good one at that. Yes, he did think that Muggles were rather stupid when confronted with something that they had no idea of, and their understanding of what magic consisted of was completely hilarious, but he didn't think Hope Jensen was stupid when she saved people with her hands every day. Yes, he did think that tradition was meant to be kept for their culture didn't deserve to die, but he couldn't understand why he couldn't marry Luna Lupin.

'Hypocrite' was a word that he was familiar with, but he had never thought himself to be one of them. He was. He was starting to understand it.

Silently, he leaned on the owlery's staircase's wall, watching the long fall until the ground.

"I do hope that sadness in your eyes is not the reason you're looking down, my boy," a voice said.

Regulus jumped, turning around to see Dumbledore coming up the stairs. He wore lavender robes, and he had his hands behind his back. When he stood there, a step under Regulus, posture perfect, Regulus understood just how tall Dumbledore truly was – and how intimidating he could be.

"My mother is unwell," Regulus said. It wasn't a lie. "And I like heights."

"I never thought otherwise, you are the Captain of your Quidditch Team, after all, Mister Black," Dumbledore said, raising his eyebrows. "Your Lady-Mother is unwell? Anything a poor, old man like me can do for her?"

"Nothing, Headmaster. Now we must just... wait for action," he answered.

Regulus tried not to wince when Dumbledore stepped on the same step he was in, then tried not to look when Dumbledore stepped on the one above his own. He seemed to tower over Regulus, and he felt the need to cringe deep inside – he wanted to curl up on himself and hide.

"Action?" Dumbledore asked, interested in the wording.

He looked at his headmaster, wondering if lowering his shields would be a good idea. He wondered if the man would understand what the letters said or if they would be coded even in his own mind. But lowering the shields would make it too obvious that he was trying to help, and that would flagged as weird – either Voldemort discovered it and he would be punished somehow, or Dumbledore would see his letters and think it was trap and not believe him either way.

Regulus blinked before looking away.

"Sunday. Father said that he would take her to a known medic on Sunday," he said. He hoped the insistence with his tone at the word would be enough. "Very early in the morning. I believe they should be back home before sunrise."

"Very early, indeed," Dumbledore said. He put his hands in front of his body, creating a barrier between him and the boy. His eyes twinkled, but he seemed angry. "May I know the location of the medic that attends to patients so early in the morning?"

"I'm unaware of its location, sir, just its existence," he explained. There was some relief in his chest. It seemed like the man understood. "By what I understand, more people know of it and are interested in its location as well, but since I do not know the answer, it seems I'm useless to them. I hope they do not get angry at me."

"Do you fear they would?"

Regulus glanced at the older man, seeing how he gripped at his own robes with some controlled anger. He had understood. He had not liked what he had to say.

"I'm almost certain I'll know during Winter Break," Regulus said, looking down at his feet. He pressed his lips together, eyes running to his own forearm. "Perhaps earlier, if they can reach me."

Dumbledore's eyes stopped at his forearm, confused and interested. That was when Regulus knew that he had said too much – Dumbledore had no idea about the Mark that Voldemort would put in his followers, and Regulus had been too obvious in his fear and his secret messages. He had failed.

"I hope they cannot reach you, then, my boy," Dumbledore said kindly. "Someone so young has other things to worry about, like grades – like your beautiful girlfriend."

"I worry for her, indeed, sir... all the time," Regulus said. "I wonder if I'll able to care for her after school is over. Miss Lupin is ever so fragile and so trusting, her heart is easy to break, but I fear over-studying might break her body first."

Dumbledore gave a little chuckle. It sounded so sincere that Regulus had to stop and look at him in confusion.

"Miss Lupin is less fragile than you think, Mister Black. I can assure you that after school she has great things in her destiny," he answered, he put his eyebrows close together as to make sure Regulus knew he was true in his words. "Her friend, Missus Lovegood, is certain she'll get a great job. Overworking might be a worry, but I believe she'll learn to dose herself well."

He felt his stomach drop.

"I never doubted she would do great things, I just hoped... we would've had more time before greatness got in the way," he said. "I just wanted calmness, you see? It would've been great to just be calm."

Dumbledore made a little noise and looked at the October sky, pressing his lips together at the greyness.

"I believe that there's very little calmness when there's such a storm coming, my dear boy. I would recommend that you go back inside, it's safer for the when the rain comes. After all, Hogwarts is the safest place one could be," he said, turning to look at him. "It always helps those who ask for it."

Regulus watched him for a second, before he sighed.

"I don't ask for help. I don't need help," he said.

"Those are different things."

Only one of them was true.

"I know," Regulus answered.

Opinions? Guesses?