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“The beaches, the carnival, the mountains. I think it’s beautiful there, and there’s always something to do. I’d like to have a house there too, I think that would be nice.”

James Potter defender of love and lovers everywhere

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Dorcas uttered when the cars finally slowed and stopped outside of the house. Not a house, a mansion.

Barty arched both of his eyebrows at him.

“Uhm, how long have you been dating?” James was flailing.

“We’re married.”

It wasn’t the amount of blood that had accumulated all over the floor that convinced James that Regulus was dead.

Or the fact that Regulus had stopped the gurgling and wheezing noises several minutes ago as he drifted into cruel stillness.

It wasn’t Barty’s tear stained and blood splattered face. Or Evan’s desperate attempts to shake Regulus awake. It wasn’t even Peter’s sorrowful look upon checking for a pulse. Or his frantic attempts to do CPR anyway.

It was Sirius’ agonised wails as he pleaded and called out to a God he never believed in to spare his brother. To bring him back. “I just got him back,” Sirius screamed. “I just got him back. Please. Don’t do this. Please bring him back. I just got him back.”

He remembers not wanting to let go of Regulus. He remembers Peter and Barty attempting to pry him out of his arms.

He remembers someone, Remus maybe, helping him to his feet.

He remembers the sound of Sirius’ sobs.

In the end it didn’t matter who fired the bullet that killed Regulus Black. Barty and Evan and Sirius slaughtered them all. It was a complete masacre. Six men dead. Tom and Lucius included. Six men and one star.

One star gone from existence.

A devastating thing to witness.

An irrevocable thing to lose.

Doesn’t matter how nice the desk is.”

“Can I at least get your name,” James asked again sounding rather desperate.

“Regulus,” the voice answered shortly. “See you tomorrow,” he said before hanging up.