Drowning

Regulus was taken a few years back in time when the Sorting Hat fell upon Elías' head and it screamed the house of bronze and blue, startling those who had met him so far. Lyssandra was whinning immediately, but Regulus felt relief wash over him like a bucket of water. It was one thing to have him around the castle and another thing to have him in your own bloody bedroom. He brushed away the various fantasies that tried to stir something warm inside him.

"Bugger," Rosier sighed. "I really liked the bloke."

"It just means he's smart," Lyssandra elbowed the brunet on the ribs, making him wince. She'd become much bolder since her engagement, but Regulus only knew that it was because now she was practically a López - and wasn't it a frightening thought to have two of the biggest Wizarding Sacred Families inside Hogwarts? "He can still come to our Common Room, anyway. And I sure plan to bring him a lot into my bedroom."

"Do not," Amanda Garrick hissed at her.

"Jealous, Mandy?" Lyssandra's features turned cruel and smug. "Missing your dear fiancè? Ah, that's right, he left, didn't he?"

"Mind your own bloody bussiness, Yaxley," she scoffed.

The Sorting finished fairly quickly, and Regulus let his eyes wander over to the Ravenclaw table, where Elías had a flock of girls already at his sides, probably trying to pull him into a debate. In front of him there was that damn Wrainburg, too, smiling at him like they were already friends.

"Hey, Regulus, why did you never mention Elías before?" Carrow frowned. "I mean, he said you two played when you were brats."

"We did," Regulus thanked Merlin when the food appeared before him, taking a sip of pumpkin juice from his goblet. "And then we didn't."

"And your brother?" Lyssandra frowned at the back of Sirius' head. "Were they friends?"

"They used to be," Regulus shrugged. "I don't think they're friends, though. We three... we were never friends. More like acquaintances."

"Oh, what a shame," Lyssandra sighed. "I really wish he'd been sorted into Slytherin."

***

"So you decided to be in Ravenclaw?" Kyle Wrainburg, a wonderful and intelligent half-blood wizard, leaned further. "Why? Usually, people of your status tend to prefer a house full of people like them."

Elías threw his head back and laughed. He knew it wasn't meant to be an offensive comment, just a bold one. This house of blue and bronze was like the most refreshing sip of water he'd ever taken. The girls who had taken to flock him on his side of the table hadn't tried to seduce him through looks, but through words. He was bound to have quite a nice stay for the next two years.

"I am not that into purity, Kyle," he waved his hand, dismissing it. "To be honest, the only reason I follow through is because I know I cannot change the minds of those who have had years and years of hate-filled teachings. I do not like conflict - a good debate is always welcome, of course, but I don't desire to speak to a wall."

"Smart boy," he smirked. He was the Ravenclaw seventh year prefect, and through his questions and answers he'd already gained respect from Elías. Smart people, as always, gave him a sense of comfort. "And how are you liking Hogwarts so far?"

"Your ceilings are the most incredible sight of all," was the first thing that left his lips. He didn't even think twice about it, which was dangerous because he always thought carefully of what he was to say. "Truly enchanting. And it is bigger than Salem could ever hope to be. Everything is antique and unique and I feel like I've travelled back a thousand years. Well, maybe a little less."

"Was Salem more modern?" the girl by his side, Juniper, looked at him with big, blue, curious eyes. "Did it have muggle technology?"

"Not at all," Elías turned back to his food, though he respectfully looked at her from time to time, drifting his green eyes around to tell everyone who was interested. "There was no muggle technology, but we did not live in a castle. Salem is made of a group of houses placed on the woods of Maine, having been moved several times after little accidents that have happened over time. These houses are big, around the same size as this Great Hall each, and they hold different grades and different classes each. The Astronomy Tower was in my fifth year house, for example."

"How fascinating," Lorraine, a muggleborn, scooted closed to Elías. He felt slightly claustrophobic and cursed heterosexuality for the ninth time that day. "You'll find yourself loving Hogwarts, Elías, I'm sure of it."

"And our Quidditch as well." a boy suddenly spoke from behind them.

Juniper stood, nodding at the young man sporting the Quidditch Captain badge. He took her place, grinning at Elías and holy mother of bloody fucking Merlin, the boy was gorgeous as fuck.

"Well, hello, López. My name is Nicholas Brown and I've been told you play Quidditch. Any interest in being a part of our team?"

"Actually, yes," the pureblood nodded, softly swallowing a bite of delicious chicken to try to get rid of the bludger sized knot on his throat. "I'd like to apply as chaser. Maybe beater."

"Both, uh?" Nicholas was an awfully handsome bloke - he had blond hair, falling below his ears in shaggy waves and brilliant blue eyes. Elías reminded himself not to look below to check if Quidditch captains in Hogwarts were as mouthwatering as in Salem. "The tryouts are this Saturday, on the Quidditch Pitch. Kyle can show you, he's been our keeper for quite a while."

"Five in the pitch," he lifted his goblet in recognition. "First match?"

"Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, as always," Nicholas nodded. "I've been speaking with Potter, and although he'd kind of busy being Head Boy and drooling over Evans, I think he's in for the last year."

"We can beat him," Lorraine grinned. "And Slytherin's lost Mulciber this year. Malfoy, too. They won't be able to hold on much."

"The Blacks are good," the Captain reminded them. Elías' interest sparked. "Regulus is one of the greatest seekers I've seen, and Sirius almost got me with a bludger last Winter. Also, in Hufflepuff there's Diggory and she's bloody fast."

"We'll be fine," Kyle grinned widely at Elías. "Hope you can play as good as I hope, López."

"I'll try not to disappoint," the Spaniard smirked.

***

"Elías!" Lyssandra called, smiling when he turned around and gave her the most charming look she'd ever seen. Rosier snickered when she awkwardly waved at him, not really knowing why she'd called. 

"I guess I will see you tomorrow morning?" the Spaniard grasped her hand and she nodded. "I have to see where my tower is. I'm afraid to get lost within these walls."

"Oh, I could show you the castle after class tomorrow," she offered.

"That'd be wonderful, love," he kissed her forehead and squeezed her hand before following the Quidditch Captain and the one of the Ravenclaw prefects. 

"You really do like him, uh, Lys?" Rosier smiled at her as the Slytherins walked towards the dungeons of Hogwarts, the young girl almost skipping. "He seems like a nice bloke."

"He's great," she giggled. "Mother told me he speaks four languages, excluding Latin and Greek, and he dances tango, too!"

"Sounds like a dream," Regulus said dryly, wishing for only his bed and a dreamless sleep.

Carrow, Nott and Rosier looked at each other warily, sensing Regulus' discomfort. Still, Lyssandra had been quite sour about her betrothal since she heard about it on their third year. She hadn't wanted to marry an older man, or a pureblood who wouldn't treat her right. She had taken a dislike for boys that year, and the next, right until she realized she couldn't do anything.

She'd been happy accepting that she'd at least marry someone who could financially support her and maybe, perhaps, love her like she wished to be loved. Rosier had been worried, and Nott had promised her that, should her future husband be anything less than what she deserved, he'd get it. Regulus had been in as well until he'd seen it was Elías.

The first night had always been a slight relief for everyone in Slytherin. First years were giddy, seconds years were happy to be back, third years slightly annoyed, fourth years just at home, fifth years thinking of owls, sixth years were beginning to think of the little time they had left, and seventh years were already nostalgic.

Regulus walked the halls of the Slytherin Common Room with the knowledge that it could be the last time. Looking around, he caught everyone making their way into the Bed Chambers and decided to sit on the plush leather sofa that faced a window of swirling dark water. A few merpeople were floating, curious with their beady eyes watching the Slytherins move back. Regulus suddenly thought of Kreacher and wished desperately that he was fine.

His arm hurt. His grasp on it tightened to bruising force. He wasn't used to it, not yet. He'd almost fainted when he'd gotten it, Bella's laughter echoing in his head as Cissa tried desperately to pull him to his feet. The Dark Lord hadn't seemed so great then, not like he'd imagined. His eyes had been inhumane, unnatural, and his too handsome face reminded him of a demon he'd once seen on a muggle cathedral.

Carrow and Rosier both had it, too. Lyssandra had been saved, as well as Nott because of his possible position in the Wizengamot after his father's Dragon Pox. Stupidly enough, Regulus had thought that the Dark Mark would've been painless, effortless, just like it was to believe in the Dark Lord's cause. Or used to be. Yet it hadn't been.

"If you keep touching it, it'll hurt more."

Regulus didn't look at Severus as he sat beside him, eyes on the merpeople still waving at him. The seventh year wizard had received it, too, on his sixteenth birthday. 

"It hurts anyway," Regulus muttered.

"You're hesitating," the elder Slytherin narrowed his eyes."It's obvious, Black, and if you don't cover it up, you'll end up on the other side of the road."

"I thought you'd be telling me to straight up my shit," Regulus chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

"I can't," Severus kept, as always, his serious expression. Two years ago he'd forgotten how to smile. Regulus wondered what it was like to be in love with a mudblood. "You are, after all, still a Black. The Dark Lord is hoping great things from you, you know that."

"I know that," Regulus repeated. "I... I know that, Sev. I just..."

"What?" he frowned.

"Is that what it does to you?" he turned to finally rest his grey eyes on black eyes. Severus still hadn't changed his impassible facial expression. "Being immortal, I mean. Dark Magic is called Dark for a reason, after all, and I... I really don't want to know the price of it anymore."

"You never believed in purism, not like your parents do," Severus sighed, rubbing his face. "And you've always been a coward, too."

"We're all cowards," Regulus spat. "Look at us, Severus - marriage at seventeen? Dark Mark at sixteen? Killing at eighteen? We're kids. I'm a kid. You're a kid. Haven't you ever asked yourself what would happen if we broke from all of this?"

"Then I'd be shunned," he replied without blinking, staring right back. "Like your brother. A blood-traitor. A Gryffindor. Banned from his own house and in a permanent row with his brother because he'd rather fuck a mudblood than kill one."

Regulus kept quiet, and when Severus stood he suddenly realized they weren't alone.

"Pull yourself together, Reggie," Carrow called from the bedroom, waiting for Severus to enter. "We wouldn't want you to end up like Lawrence, would we?"

Regulus did not sleep that night.