marauderstower | you know how we said that au was a one-off? anyway: that horrible au.

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you know how we said that au was a one-off? anyway: that horrible au.

Regulus stops by Grimmauld place before he goes. He has things he needs to do. He picks up the locket he needs and checks it for the note and it feels like closure. He smiles at his parents and tells them goodbye and it feels freeing. He tells some of the elves goodbye and it feels like his insides are going to rot away. Kreacher comes with him and it feels like a betrayal. The trip to the outside of the cave is longer than expected. Using a boat feels absurd but he knows it's necessary and sits, quiet, as he magics it forward. It's not difficult. He's brooding, thinking about his brother. About Remus. As they reach the mouth of the cave he shakes the thoughts out of his head. He needs to be resolute.

Kreacher shows him where the door is and stands behind Regulus, though he's ready to obey if he's ordered. Regulus pulls the sharp knife from under his cloak—one of Bellatrix's, fittingly—and slices the width of his own palm open like flaying. It doesn't matter how deep it is, all he needs is time to finish his job. Kreacher protests the action quietly but Regulus places his hand on the door and drags it down, shuddering slightly as the rough stone digs into the stinging wound. A sharp corner catches, pulls the wound wider. He takes a ragged breath and pulls his hand back but the offering is enough; the door opens and they can step through. He wipes the blood on his cloak and stashes it away.

The lake within is large and intimidating and there's no visible way across. Kreacher takes his good hand and leads him to where the boat is, invisible to the naked eye. As he picks apart the spells Kreacher is nervous, moving from foot to foot. He trusts his master's judgement, but he would rather be the one doing these things so Regulus doesn't have to suffer them. Finally, it's ready to take them across. Only one fully-grown Wizard allowed, but Voldemort's never taken anyone else's powers into account so Kreacher is allowed with him and once they're on the boat all that's left to do is wait. Regulus stares down into the water blankly; he knows what's coming.

As they stand on the edge of the tiny island in the middle of the lake, Regulus breathes. He breathes like it's his last because it is. He expects to die, knows he deserves it. That's all right. He smiles to Kreacher as he hands him the locket, instructs him to switch them, to take the Horcrux to Dumbledore, to leave him there to die after helping him finish the potion. Kreacher is crying.

So is Regulus.

At first he can drink it himself. Goblet after goblet of sickening green liquid slides down his throat and as it does, he feels like he's immolating from the inside out. He clutches at the edge of the basin, blood dripping down the side of it. Once he retches, vomits off to the side because the pain is so unbearable, burning inside and stabbing through him, but the basin refills slowly with exactly as much potion as he'd expelled. It's the first time he's breathed out a whimper. He continues to drink, and then the visions start. He's still clutching at the basin so hard that his knuckles are white and as soon as the images start to float through his brain he clamps down like a steel trap, the perfect legilimens—

—it helps but it isn't enough. An innocent woman he'd killed flashing behind his eyes. Sirius laying on the floor broken and sobbing. Remus' face full of hatred and disgust and the vicious spit of words in his face. Being a child, watching his brother get hurt and not being able to help him. Getting hurt himself and Sirius trying to bring the attention to himself. He sinks to the ground and Kreacher has to help him finish off the potion. Has to lie to him and tell him it's water to get him to finish drinking. He's so thirsty, so full of self-loathing, so full of pain and fear and he's going to die here, he's going to die alone because he told Kreacher to leave and his brain short-circuits—

the thoughts fall away and leave nothing but blank-faced torturous pain in their wake and he wants to die

The potion is done. Kreacher replaces the locket but hesitates, watching Regulus for something, anything. Perhaps hoping that Regulus will change his mind. Instead Regulus only crawls toward the water, the dangerous water, and Kreacher is trembling and Regulus has reached the edge and goes to take a drink and just like that hands are pulling at him, dragging him further forward, dragging him under, slick white wet skin and bone. Just before he slips under he gasps out Kreacher and it sounds so terrified that it's enough. It's an order. The elf surges forward.

he's sinking and

the water is

filling him and

there is terror

but also peace

he is drowning

he is dying

this is retribution

this is absolution

hands clutching him

he is clean.

But then there are different hands grasping his wrists and a surge of magic not his own forcing the other hands to let go and it's just him, just him and Kreacher and he's being dragged out of the water and he had no idea Kreacher was that strong and he's sobbing in terror and relief, the placid acceptance when he was underwater leaving him in one fell swoop. He coughs up lungfuls of water, choking and hacking but they can't wait, the Inferi are crawling up after them—

—there's a desperate crack of Disapparition that shouldn't work but does, because Elf magic is different from Wizard magic and plays by different rules. It's the same way they end up on the floor of Dumbledore's office and Regulus is on his hands and knees on the stone floor, gasping and choking and bleeding but not sobbing. He doesn't have the tears in him any more. He can't even open his eyes to see where they are because he has them clenched shut so tightly, so protectively.

He's shaking.

He's alive.

WARNINGS: drowning, descriptions of wounds etc etc

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It had taken Remus longer to deliver the message to Dumbledore than it might have, except that when the Healers had arrived and the spell binding him to the chair had broken, he'd been so distraught that he'd had to be sedated. Hours later, he might have panicked again, had he not known that it was already too late. Regulus was gone – long gone – and more like than not, he was already dead.

Dead. Regulus was dead.

The words had echoed in his mind over and over as he removed himself from the hospital bed and went to find Sirius' room again. He can't remember what he'd said exactly; it didn't matter what he said, because nothing could be changed. Regulus would still be dead, and it would still be his fault, all of it.

He'd told Sirius he had to leave and he'd gone, Apparating straight to Hogsmeade. He was numb as he hurried to the castle; he was numb as he crossed the grounds and banged on the great doors that barred him from his task. It had been the dead of night, so the time it took for Filch to let him in felt like hours rather than the mere few minutes it had surely been in reality. None of it mattered. There had been only one thing left for him to do – one stupid, negligible task that fell so far short of everything he owed to Regulus – and so he didn't stop and he didn't think and he didn't feel anything as he made his way to Dumbledore's office.

He delivers the message feeling like he's someone else watching everything play out. He can hear his own voice speaking, but it doesn't sound like him at all. Dumbledore reacts with a predictable amount of calm surprise, but Remus can't hear a word that he's saying. His task is complete, but the numbness is still there – the emptiness where Regulus had been.

And then there's a pop! that shouldn't be possible and Regulus is there – right there in front of him – dripping wet and gasping for air and Remus is on his knees in an instant, fresh shock hitting him anew. He doesn't even think twice about touching Regulus now, hands taking his shoulders, supporting him, needing to touch to believe, to even comprehend that this is real and not some figment of his unhinged imagination.

"Reg? Regulus! What–"

Remus. Remus is there. Remus is there? He must be--He hears Dumbledore's voice like he's still underwater. He's saying that he's going to go get Poppy Pomfrey posthaste. He should only be gone a moment. Regulus thinks, unkindly, that it's only because he won't be able to answer any questions like this. Still, part of him is glad that he's gone as soon as he sweeps by - Regulus reaches out blindly to grasp Remus' arm, another sob choking him. "I got scared," he gasps, not even realizing that the hand grasping at him is the bleeding one. The pain is muted though he knows it should be making him scream.

"I couldn't--I couldn't die," and he's crying, he thinks, turning toward him and opening his eyes to look at him, wide and haunted. "I thought I could but I couldn't." He realizes - extremely belatedly - that it's making it sound like he didn't finish his job. His other hand uncurls, letting the horcrux drop to the ground. It clatters and he flinches even though he'd done it - it's like so much progress has been instantly reset. "Had to drink--a potion. Makes you thirsty but--inferi. In the lake." He's still thirsty, but it's not burning anymore.

He's rambling, a lot, but he tries to shift closer to Remus anyway. He's not cognizant enough to realize quite yet that he has to drag his leg behind him to do it. Still, he coils close as well as he can, burrowing for some semblance of safety. "I love you," he whispers hoarsely, "I love you, I'm sorry, I couldn't--" He chokes on it, breathes out a hoarse noise. "--hurts."

"It's okay–" He's more than a little bit alarmed at Regulus' state, which only seems worse the more he takes in. The water, the blood, the rasping sound of his voice – inferi? – the weakness in his limbs and the way he can barely lift himself of the ground. He can hardly follow what Regulus is saying, but one thing is clear:

"He needs help, now!" he screams at Dumbledore, not looking away from Regulus even for a moment. Then he's pulling Regulus to him, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. He's still barely able to convince himself that any of this is real, but Regulus is an undeniably solid weight against him, and he holds him there as though he might disappear again should he let go.

"It's okay. It's okay, I've go you. You're safe now. You don't have to be scared anymore." He's got Regulus cradled against him now, rocking gently without really realizing it, cheek pressed against dark hair. He can feel prickles in his eyes again and closes them, lifting a hand to tangle his fingers in Regulus' hair as he continues to rock and whisper whatever comes to his mind. Anything that might comfort.

"It's over, Reg. It's all over. You did it – you're a hero – and you're going to be fine, okay? Help is on the way. I've got you, and I promise I'll never let you go again, do you hear me? Never. I love you."

You're a hero sticks with him and he lets out a hoarse laugh, muffled as it is where he's burrowed against him. "'m not a hero," he mumbles, slightly more coherent than before. "Just a repentant monster."

It hurts to say it, but he means it. The fingers in his hair and the soothing words - along with the gentle movement are all slightly soothing. Thankfully, as it allows his breathing to finally even out, allows him to relax as much as he can.

It's not long after that when Dumbledore returns with Poppy and she has to try and get Remus to help hold Regulus upright so she can check him over. He's clear enough to mostly do it on his own finally, just holding on to Remus' arm for support, unwilling to let go entirely. She takes care of his hand first, stopping the bleeding most important, then begins to work through diagnostic spells trying to figure out what is wrong with him.

His head seems fine - his lungs too once a quick charm clears them fully, thankfully - and most of the physical aspects of him are fine, or going to be. Mostly it's shock and the mental after-effects of the potion, though nearly drowning definitely attributed to his mental state.

She has to check his limbs too, procedure, and when one of his hips isn't responsive enough, she frowns. There's really no physical reason for it, but the consensus is that after a potion handcrafted by the Dark Lord himself, he's gotten off lucky.

Dumbledore stays nearby, watching, though at some point he takes the fretful Kreacher aside to reassure him and to ask him some questions.

"Shhh..." Regulus' words only make Remus hold him tighter, because Regulus isn't the one who should be calling himself a monster. The horcrux on the ground is a testament to what Regulus did - what was willing to give up - to save them all (though Remus certainly isn't letting go of Regulus long enough to pick the bloody thing up, that's for sure).

"Don't ever let me hear you say that again. You were brilliant." He presses a kiss to Regulus' forehead (cold, so cold, but real - alive), and that's when Dumbledore returns with Madam Pomfrey.

Remus helps Regulus to his feet, holds him up while he's looked over. He refuses to let go even once Regulus is able to stand on his own, keeping an arm wrapped securely around his waist and a watchful eye on the proceedings. He wasn't lying before; he'll never let Regulus go. Not until he knows that Regulus is somewhere safe, at least. Not until he knows for certain that he's going to be all right and that he's not going to disappear again.

So, possibly never.

After an indeterminable amount of time has passed, they're finally cleared to move Regulus to a safe house. Remus is given instructions (all the while clinging to Regulus much like Regulus had clung to him before and glaring at anyone who some much as comes too close) and they're sent off with a regimen of potions for Regulus to take as he recovers. The leg worries Remus, as does the unnatural cold that seems to have permeated Regulus' skin, but after the ordeal he's been through it's a wonder he's alive at all.

Dumbledore side-alongs the both of them straight into the Order safe house (yet another unplottable location that only Dumbledore himself is able to Apparate in and out of), and he leaves them standing there with instructions to rest and to contact him immediately if Regulus' condition takes a turn for the worse. Otherwise, he'll send word in a few days' time once Regulus has had a chance to regain some strength and will hopefully be better equipt to answer some questions.

Remus stands there blinking once Dumbledore has Disapparated, feeling somewhat stunned by the sudden silence and still holding Regulus close against him.

Regulus is almost startled in light of how tightly Remus really is holding onto him. He supposes he shouldn't be that surprised, but it's still something that draws his breath ragged. He leans into him slightly for more support, listening to everything that's being said about and to him. He processes it and files it away, face strangely impassive as the proceedings happen. He's compartmentalized so soon as he's able to and it helps, somehow. It lets him focus on the tasks at hand instead of panicking or spiraling. Lets him lock down the part of him that wants to scream and never stop.

He doesn't argue with Remus' vehemence any more at the moment, in any case. He's none too pleased with the idea of having to quaff more potions in response to the one he's already taken, but he supposes he can manage it. It all goes so fast, really, from start to finish. Kreacher is sent home to Grimmauld Place before his disappearance is noticed. Regulus almost doesn't realize they've gotten to the safe house for a long moment. But then they're alone and he's reeling and everything is coming back in sharp relief and he takes a shuddering breath, healed hand - that will scar - clutching at Remus' arm so tightly that his knuckles are white.

He feels tired and cold and hollow and he doesn't know what to say. "I'm--" There are a few false starts with it and finally he just lets his forehead drop to Remus' shoulder. He's trying to keep his brain from running away from him but it's difficult; it's the fact he'd tried to die, the fact that Remus had thought him capable of torturing or killing his brother, the fact now Remus is so repentant. It's overwhelming and he finally lifts his head again to look at him, eyes wet but without any tears falling. He lifts his free hand to press to Remus' cheek, leaching some of the warmth from him.

"I'm tired," he finally settles on, awkwardly. "I should--try to sleep, probably."

Remus nods, trying to prevent all those feelings of fear and desperation from creeping in again and overcoming him. He hasn't let go of Regulus; in fact, with the bag of supplies slung over his shoulder, he's able to wrap Regulus in a protective embrace, fingers carding through his hair once again, needing still to feel him there and solid in his arms.

Try as he might, he can feel the twisting, knotting sensation take root in his gut again as Regulus looks at him, and he's certain that some of it will show on his face. In his eyes. He's not sure what happens now, but he knows that the thought of letting Regulus out of his sight, even out of his reach makes him feel physically ill.

"There ought to be a couple of bedrooms... a sofa. Do you–" –want me to stay with you, is what he'd meant to ask, but the words stick in his throat. He's too afraid to voice them, not knowing what the answer will be.

Regulus leans into the embrace instinctively, taking a few grounding breaths. It makes part of him feel sick but he's trying to push it down, to move past it, to work through it silently. Without causing drama about it. Typical of him, really.

He opens his mouth to speak but he doesn't know how to answer quite yet. Finally he speaks quietly, looking away. "A bedroom would probably be best," he surmises, but he doesn't touch the unspoken question for now. "I can probably--" he starts the sentence stubbornly before sighing and tipping his head forward again. "Help me there, please." He isn't sure how to keep his balance like this properly yet.

"I don't want to think about anything for a while."

For a moment, he feels as though he might panic again. His eyes go wide as Regulus starts to speak, and he's bracing himself for Regulus to pull away from him. But he doesn't. And Remus can't help but to breathe a sigh of relief. He might feel somewhat guilty for it - for his general need to cling to Regulus like this - but at least it's an honest feeling, and he's happy that Regulus at least needs him this much, so that he might hold onto him if just for a little longer.

Slowly, mindful of Regulus' leg, he leads them through the house. They'd entered into a small kitchen area; through a living room with a sofa and a reading chair, there's a hall off of which sit two separate, sparsely furnished bedrooms. The set-up is simple, but there are a number of rugs and throw blankets that at least attempt to give the place a welcoming feel. There's a bookshelf in the living room, Remus notes, and he wonders if he'll be allowed to stay long enough to peruse the titles.

He chooses a bedroom at random, helping Regulus in to sit on the edge of the bed. He sits as well, still unwilling to let go completely, and allows the bag of supplies to slip off of his shoulder onto the floor.

"There should be enough supplies for several weeks stocked already. Blankets, extra clothes, muggle torches, a wireless..." He doesn't really know what to say then, so he simply lapses into silence. Waiting.

Regulus lets himself be led through the house, the stubbornly prideful set of his spine almost funny in light of his previous display. He catalogs everything they pass mentally, noting the layout so he can remember it in case he has to make any treks alone.

It's not until they're seated on the bed that something in him seems like it unravels again. He's careful enough taking off his shoes and setting them aside - it takes some doing, leg as it is - but tosses his cloak and under jacket onto the nearby chair unceremoniously. Being in a white shirt just makes him look more pale.

When Remus speaks he listens quietly, nodding once he's done. The silence stretches on further until he finally murmurs, "I'm sorry." It's quiet and subdued, but the worst part is he's very obviously genuine in it. Whether it's a conditioned response or not isn't clear, but the fact remains he believes he has things to be sorry for. He doesn't look at him as he says it, shoulders hunched.

Remus helps where he's able, finally loosening the arm around Regulus' waist so that he can move, but staying close and always touching. He knows that Regulus is proud, so he only offers aid for what Regulus is physically unable to do himself.

Regulus' apology cuts him to the core. He doesn't want to hear apologies from him, but he knows very well from his own experience that internalized habits are immeasurably difficult to break. It will take time. All of this - if they're going to get through anything - will take time and patience.

"I'm sorry too," he sighs instead of arguing, sounding more tired and resigned now anything else now. There's a beat, and then he sucks in a breath, looking sidelong at Regulus. He's never had much courage, so he honestly isn't sure where he finds it in himself to finally ask, so softly that his voice is barely a whisper, "...can I stay with you?"

There's no argument and it's unclear whether he takes it as a sign he really needs to be sorry or not. In any case it doesn't start a row, which is a good thing. He appreciates the help and the way it's given, as it allows him to retain some amount of dignity at least.

Remus' final question stills him and he has to think about it, not looking at him. On the one hand being in proximity to Remus makes him feel ill not because he's disgusted with Remus but because he reminds Regulus of the fact he'd done things to deserve the ire he'd received. To not be trusted. On the other hand...

He exhales shaking, hand settling at his own nape and digging blunted nails in slightly, grounding. The potions they'd poured into him for treatment leave him a little fuzzy but finally, finally, he nods. "I don't want to be alone."

It's not an admission of wanting his company in particular now that he's past the traumatized shock stage, but it's something.

He nods, shoulders hunched a bit from a combination of exhaustion and despondency, but at least he'll be allowed to stay for tonight. He'll take what he can get, and after they've both slept, they can work out the finer details of whether he ought to find someone to care for Regulus so that Regulus never has to see his face again.

Unconsciously, his hand has begun to rub small, comforting circles over Regulus' back. He hates seeing Regulus like this. After a moment, he scoots back, moving to recline toward the headboard of the bed and tugging gently for Regulus to follow. His every move is uncertain and far from demanding, but he wants desperately to help where he can.

"Come here."

He doesn't shy away from the touch to his back at the very least. It's a start. He just doesn't know what to do with it either. He breathes out a slow sigh and lets himself be moved, shifting as well as he can to settle back against the headboard and pillows with a slight wince. Nothing doing.

He's quiet for a long time again, staring up at the ceiling. He still hurts all over through the pain potion, but it's dulled. His hand flexes slightly, working newly-grown skin to pliancy. He's not crying. His breathing is even. He just feels hollow too.

"I don't want you to be nice to me just because you feel guilty." It sounds vaguely impassive, but it's because he's stomping down his emotions.

Remus keeps a shrewd eye on Regulus' movements, noting the wince and the way he seems to almost drag his injured leg. It's worrisome, but beyond the potions he's already been given, there's not much they can do for Regulus now aside from trying to make him comfortable.

The words make him suck in a sharp, painful breath, though he supposes he ought to have expected something like this, especially after the choice words he'd flung about without so much as a care earlier that night. He shakes his head, wrapping his arms around Regulus and pulling the slighter man against him.

Closing his eyes, he buries his nose in Regulus' hair, murmuring, "I'm not being nice to you because I feel guilty. I do feel guilty - more than - but I'm being nice to you because I was wrong. And because I love you."

Regulus tenses slightly when Remus pulls him closer like that, breath catching once. But he doesn't pull away, just relaxes after a long moment's pause. He doesn't speak for a while, just sitting still and breathing. He feels stupid, spine stiff in Remus' embrace, but he doesn't know how to act.

"You don't have to tell me that any more," he murmurs. "I needed it when I was walking to death." He closes his eyes, breath shaking. "But you don't have to pretend that you were wrong now, because you were right. I'm not dying, so I don't need pity."

It feels hollow and poisonous and like ash and dirt in his mouth but really, he can't help but believe it. "Merlin, I'm even worse than you think, anyway. Don't tell me I'm not a monster."

"You aren't," he counters vehemently, arms tightening around Regulus in his need to make Regulus understand. "I'm the monster, Reg. Me. For not trusting you, for all the horrible things I said to you, for not stopping you..."

His voice cracks and he winces, but thankfully it seems he's finally run out of tears to cry, at least for tonight. Instead, he lets out a harsh, humorless laugh.

"This isn't pity. It's selfishness. I'm here because I can't stand the thought of letting you out of my sight. Because you were gone and I'd lost you and now you're here, alive, and I don't know what I would have done, Reg." He's hardly stringing his thoughts together coherently and he knows it, so Remus draws in a slower breath, attempting to calm himself; Regulus is here, safe. In his arms. He's not dead and he's not going to disappear, not tonight. He has to stay calm.

"I'm also here because I want to make sure you're safe. And cared for. I can't ever erase what I did, but I can promise you that I will never doubt you again. Not ever. I was a fool and you were hurt - nearly died - because of it. Never again. You might not believe me, but I do love you, and I'm going to keep telling you that until you realize that it's true."

"I've killed people. A lot of people. For no reason other than I was told to." His voice has flat-lined as he speaks, dead and cold. The iciness isn't directed at Remus but at himself. "We... We've burned houses down with people inside. Innocent people. Families. I used to get in trouble for not being able to kill children but I let it happen. I said nothing and I let it happen even in times I didn't participate. I wore a mask and hid behind it like it would save me. I let my cousin torture my brother and leave him for dead because I was too scared to stop her."

He breathes and it's trembling. He doesn't cry. He doesn't have anything left in him to do it.

"I don't know why you'd want to be around me. I don't know why you'd think you were wrong about not trusting me. Most of the horrible things you said were right. I was supposed to die and that was selfish. I don't--" This time he chokes on a bitter laugh. "I don't want to live with everything I've done, Remus. I deserve to die because of all of it. But I'm too scared to even do that."

Finally, finally he lets out a low sob. Looks like he'd been wrong about not being able to cry after all. "I never wanted to hurt anyone, I never--I wanted out as soon as I knew, but there's no out. I was too scared to die then too. I should have. Now all I've got is blood on my hands and you not understanding why you'd be right to hate me."

Remus is quiet for a long time, clinging to Regulus and listening to the cutting words that pour out of him. They're difficult words to hear, for Remus especially, but he forces himself to try to really listen to what Regulus is saying. If he's serious about loving Regulus - about not making the same mistakes twice - then he has to know Regulus like he hasn't been able or willing to before. He has to see all of the darkness and accept that side of his love for what it is, not turn away or pretend that the darkness hasn't always been there, a part of him.

And it's hard. Harder than perhaps any other part of this war so far, to listen to and internalize the knowledge that these horrible acts were done by the man in his arms. Remus had never been unaware of what it it meant to be a Death Eater, but he can't deny that he's been nothing short of blind when it comes to Regulus. It's not that he didn't know, but he simply never could bring himself to acknowledge that the Death Eater and the boy he'd grown to love were and always have been one and the same, by choice or otherwise.

Somewhere along the line, his thumb had begun to stroke Regulus' shoulder, mimicking the small circles of his hand before, unconsciously. After Regulus is finished speaking, Remus is quiet for a long time, ruminating on all he's heard. He wants to take the easy way out. Wants to tell Regulus over and over that it's all right, it wasn't really his fault, as he always has. But this time, he bites his lip, and refuses to allow the comforting words to escape.

Finally, he lets out a soft sigh, because what is there to say, really?

"I love you," he whispers, nosing against Regulus' hair where his cheek still rests. "Those horrible things that you've done... they'll never go away. I've no doubt you'll feel them forever." He sounds distant, as though he were speaking to himself, thoughts far away from the little room they sit in. "Perhaps there is no forgiveness for the evil we've done in our lives, and living with the blood on our hands is the only penance we can ever hope to pay."

He takes another, shakier breath then, letting it out unsteadily and tightening his grip on Regulus before he continues. "But you made a choice, in the end. To be different. You made a sacrifice, and you walked willingly to your death for the sake of the greater good. You say you were scared as though you ought to be condemned for it, but we're all scared, Reg. And you went anyway." He blinks, staring at the blank off-white of the wall without seeing it, wondering idly if he ought to have some point that he's trying to get to. For now, he's just speaking the words as they come.

"And... you were supposed to die. Maybe you did deserved to - that's not for me to say. But you didn't die. You sacrificed yourself, and you were given a second chance." He pauses again, squeezing his eyes shut and turning his face into Regulus' hair once more, needing the comfort but never quite finding enough somehow. "I think you should use it."

Somehow, the silence doesn't feel nerve-wracking. The silence feels like what it is. Quiet, processing. Regulus doesn't try to pull out of Remus' arms, doesn't try to escape or go hide or anything like that; he just sits, quiet and still and waiting. He's worried anyway, anticipatory of what Remus will say, if he'll leave utterly like he's trying to get him to do or if he'll sweep it under the rug like it doesn't matter.

He does neither of these things and Regulus sits, eyes closed, feeling Remus' thumb on his shoulder as his own hands clutch at Remus' shirt. Small desperate affections because he's afraid to try for more. The things Remus is saying are... The don't feel like absolution but Regulus never wanted that anyway. They feel like something that allows him to breathe, to feel like a flawed human and not an irreparable devil.

He's still tired. He still feels like he should have died - still wants to die - but rather than running away (or running headlong into danger) he stays where he is, leaning into him like he can't get enough. He can't. He breathes erratically but manages to keep it down, a soft and wounded noise leaving him as he shifted, burrowing into Remus' neck, nosing into the crook of it with a soft sob.

"I love you too," he whispers, "I don't know why you love me but I love you too. I just... I don't know what to do now. I never planned anything past the cave I was in because I wasn't ever supposed to leave it. I don't... Know how to use a second chance." He takes a shaking breath, kissing his neck, beneath his ear, his jaw, his cheek, his forehead, his lips - shifting the angle of his head to accommodate all of these - before whispering a hair's breadth from his mouth. "Stay with me," barely audible, "help me figure out what to do from here."

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you know how we said that au was a one-off? anyway: that horrible au.

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