Muggle London: Fiction
Title: Slumming
Author: Bitterfig
Prompt: Muggle London
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: Approximately 2660
Pairing: Regulus Black/Severus Snape
Warnings: Pre-slash, a bit of language, discussion of homosexuality, mature themes.
Disclaimer: I did not create these characters nor do I own them. I do not profit in any way from their use.
Summary: May, 1979. A group of Death Eaters in Muggle London to celebrate Regulus Black’s eighteenth birthday.
Author’s Notes: Both the Slits and the Tom Robinson Band are actual groups that were performing in 1979. Lyrics quoted are from “Glad to Be Gay” and “Hold Out” by the Tom Robinson Band.
Thanks to Nzomniac for Beta-reading this story
Slumming
“I’m sorry, Reggie, but your propensity for slumming is getting completely out of hand,” Rodolphus Lestrange declared tauntingly. “It’s bad enough you’re forcing us to celebrate your eighteenth birthday in some hideous little club that even self-respecting Mudbloods have the good sense to avoid but now you’re telling me you’ve invited the Snipe as well?”
“Snape,” Regulus corrected him placidly. “His name is Severus Snape. Not Snipe, not Guttersnipe or half-breed or that wretched creature or any of the other names you call him.”
“Tell me, Reggie, did you plan this evening with the intention of making it as devoid of enjoyment for all involved as possible? If so, you’re a smashing success. Forget the horrible club and the company of Muggles, Snipe alone would ruin the evening. He’s the antithesis of fun; he’s like a dark cloud.”
“Divine, isn’t it,” Regulus quipped never taking his eyes away from the window.
Bellatrix Lestrange swept in, giving kisses equally deep and lingering to her husband and cousin.
“Surely you’ve noticed, Rodolphus, that Reggie is completely bewitched by Severus,” she said. Rodolphus blanched.
“You’re joking,” he said in genuine horror. “Reggie, please tell me you haven’t let that… that… wretched creature touch you.”
“Let him touch me?” Regulus sighed. “I’ve been practically begging him to for the past three months. He kissed me the day we met, the morning after I got my Mark, but not since then.”
“Well, I for one can fully appreciate your charms,” Rodolphus said running his hand over the curve of the boy’s ass. “My heart just breaks at the thought of you wasting them on that slimy little git.”
“I think they make a rather amusing couple,” Bellatrix teased. “The purebred and the mongrel if you will.”
“The peacock and the crow,” Rodolphus said joining in the game.
“I think crows are quite beautiful,” Regulus said distantly.
“Nonsense, baby,” Bellatrix sneered. “Crows eat the tripe out of corpses.”
“Here he is,” Regulus whispered. The bell chimed and Rodolphus threw open the door to Severus Snape, a scrawny thin, stoop-shouldered young man whose face was mostly obscured by his greasy black hair.
“Snipe,” Rodolphus greeted him. “We were just saying how lucky we are that you could come with us tonight. Muggle London can be so imposing to the uninitiated but since you’re practically a Muggle yourself…”
Snape ignored his taunts, focusing his attention entirely on Regulus.
“Happy Birthday,” he muttered gracelessly. Regulus smiled, delighted, and brushed a kiss across Snape’s cheek.
Rodolphus groaned, rolling his eyes. “This is simply too much,” he said. Bellatrix let out a cackle of laughter.
“Severus, dear,” she purred. “I’m worried about you. You look absolutely wretched. You’ve gone past pale to gray and you’re thinner than ever, if that’s possible. Even the Dark Lord himself takes time to sleep and eat.”
“And bathe,” Rodolphus added cruelly.
“Things are escalating,” Snape said with an icy sternness, his schoolboy awkwardness disappearing. “You must know that. When I’m called upon, I serve. I hope you would do the same.”
“Don’t doubt that I will,” Bellatrix said with equal steel. They were alike in that way, Regulus noted. They were themselves but they were also soldiers -- hard, unyielding, dedicated to Voldermort. He wondered if he would be like that when the time came. He suspected he would not.
It was late May; Regulus had been a Death Eater since February. So far he hadn’t really done much of anything. A bit of spying around Hogwarts but that wasn’t really so much different than what he would have done anyway - watching and listening.
He was eighteen now. In less than a month he would be finished with school. The time was rapidly approaching when Voldermort would call upon him to prove himself.
He didn’t want to think about it.
“We should go now,” he said. Bellatrix became all kittenish malice once more.
“I’ve engaged a car,” she announced. “I simply refuse to travel on that filthy Underground.”
*
Snape surveyed the dark, smoke-filled club packed with people in torn, written-on and simply outlandish clothing, their eyes ringed in black. Some of them had their hair fashioned into crests and horns and dyed bright colors or black. Quite a few were wearing large leather boots with nails poking through the eye holes, spiked and studded bands around their wrists promising violence. Between the maimed t-shirts, leather jackets, unfamiliar hairstyles and liberal use of eyeliner, the line between men and women seemed precariously blurred.
Regulus, who was wearing a black t-shirt, jeans and had a bicycle chain wrapped around his wrist like a bracelet, fit in reasonably well. However the Lestranges’ in their formalwear resembled nothing so much as a society couple that had wandered into a zombie movie. Snape, of course, was the worst. Warned to wear Muggle clothes, he had unearthed an ill-fitting gray suit that was clearly from another era and would have seemed out of place anywhere.
“What is this place?” Snape asked Regulus. “And why exactly are we here?”
“This is a punk club,” Regulus informed him. “I’m here to see the Slits and the Tom Robinson Band. You’re here because it’s my birthday so I get to make everyone do as I please.”
“What, you mean everyday isn’t that way for the Black family’s heir apparent?” Snape asked with a touch of bitterness.
“You’d be surprised,” Regulus said simply.
“What’ll you have?” a bartender demanded.
“A glass of your finest elf made wine for the lady and Firewhisky for the rest of us,” Rodolphus requested snickering.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” The bartender asked.
“Vodka shots, please,” Regulus requested passing the man a fifty pound note. “And keep them coming.”
“Reggie, I hope you don’t intend to get Severus drunk and take advantage of him,” Bellatrix teased. Regulus scowled fiercely at her then downed the shot of vodka the bartender had placed before him. Snape stared straight ahead refusing to acknowledge her remark.
A gaggle of women pushed their way through the crowd onto the stage. Their hair hung in dreadlocks, one was wearing a top hat, one carried an umbrella, another was wearing what appeared to be a pair of frilly bloomers.
“Are those witches trying to pass for Muggles?” Snape asked.
“Those are the Slits,” Regulus said. “They’re Muggles but I think they’re also witches, though not in the way that Bella is.”
“Thank goodness,” Bellatrix sneered as the women lurched into a strange, disjointed song.
“They do things to music that are quite extraordinary,” Regulus continued. “I think there’s a form of magic in that. The Wizarding world is too concerned with flashy spells that are visible and tangible. I think they ignore whole realms of magic because they’re too difficult to define. I think there’s a form of magic in putting together words, sounds, or images. I don’t think Muggles and wizards are as far apart as we like to think.”
“I think your cousin’s drunk already, darling” Rodolphus said to his wife. “He’s talking nonsense.”
“It’s closer to blasphemy than nonsense, I think,” Bellatrix said. Her eyes were flashing dangerously.
“If we’re so different, how is it that Muggles and wizards can have children together?” Regulus went on. “And how is it that wizards can be born to Muggles and Muggles to wizards? Isn’t that what Squibs are after all? Wizard-born Muggles.”
Bellatrix showed her teeth. “I think you need to shut up, Reggie.” She warned. “Or I might be forced to speak to Auntie Black about this. Just because you’re eighteen doesn’t mean you can’t still be beaten.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Regulus said quietly hanging his head.
“Don’t be so hard on the boy, Bella,” Rodolphus spoke up. “He doesn’t mean anything. He’s just trying to impress Snipe with how open-minded he is toward Muggles and the like.”
“I certainly hope that’s all it is,” she snapped. “It’s making me quite angry.”
“Well, let’s have a dance shall we to this extraordinary music.”
He took his wife’s hand and led her into the area before the stage. Though it was crowed with pogo-ing punk kids, Bellatrix and Rodolphus began to dance an elegant waltz to the fast, jerky music.
“I have something for you,” Snape said when the couple was safely out of earshot. “I’ve just taken over my parents’ old house at Spinner’s End you know and I’ve been going through their things. Most of it’s rubbish like this old suit of my father’s but there was one fine thing in the house - one fine thing I own - and I wanted you to have it.” He opened his hand, revealing a silver locket on a chain. “It was my mother’s. I’d like you to have it. I’ve had it engraved with your initials.”
“Thank you, Severus,” Regulus said solemnly. “It’s beautiful. Would you put it on me?” Snape cast his eyes around.
“Well, I don’t suppose anyone would notice in a place like this,” he said fastening the chain around the boy’s throat. Regulus smiled beguilingly.
“You like me then?” he asked.
“Very much,” Snape muttered looking away. Regulus took his hand.
“I wasn’t sure,” he said. Snape drew his hand away.
“Don’t, Regulus, not in public.”
“But you just said you….”
“Not in public,” Snape said somewhat harshly with considerable impatience. Regulus drank another shot of vodka, probably his sixth or seventh of the evening. Snape had hardly touched his first.
The Slits finished their set and the Tom Robinson Band took the stage. The first chords they played ignited howls of approval from the audience. Apparently the song was familiar to many of them. Strumming his bass, Tom Robinson started to sing.
The British Police are the best in the world.
I don't believe one of these stories I've heard.
'Bout them raiding our pubs for no reason at all.
Lining the customers up by the wall.
Picking out people and knocking them down.
Resisting arrest as they're kicked on the ground.
Searching their houses and calling them queer.
I don't believe that sort of thing happens here.
Sing if you're glad to be gay.
Sing if you're happy that way.
Quite a few people in the audience were singing along as if it were a drinking song; a couple of men near the stage were kissing. Snape jumped to his feet.
“I have to get out of here,” he said and pushed his way to the door. Dazed by Snape’s abrupt departure, Regulus rose and unsteadily followed him outside.
“Severus, what’s wrong?” he asked catching up to Snape who turned on him angrily.
“Why did you bring me here?” Snape snarled. “Did you want to see me humiliated?”
“No. I didn’t, I wouldn’t…” Regulus stammered, dumbstruck.
“That song, all those people singing along, those men kissing each other - the whole thing is indecent.”
“Severus, that song is about being gay. What do you think we are?” He was standing just behind Snape; defiantly he wrapped his arms around the older boy. Snape didn’t stop him but his eyes and his voice grew cold and empty.
“I like you, Regulus,” he said. “I’m attracted to you. I want to kiss you, I want to do other things with you, I want us to be together but I’m not happy about that. These are abnormal feelings, disgusting thoughts. Things have happened to me, when I was younger. They warped me, perverted my feelings. I’m not proud of that and I’m not glad of it.”
“There’s nothing wrong about it, Severus,” Regulus protested.
“I can’t expect you to understand,” Snape said icily. “You had a libertine upbringing courtesy of your sick family. You have no morals. You had a reputation at school when you were fourteen years old. There were stories about you with girls, boys, both of them together, even teachers.”
Regulus laughed uncomfortably, trying to turn it into a joke. “What, house-elves or centaurs or merpeople?”
“There were rumors about you and your brother,” Snape told him. “I never gave them credence until I saw how casually you go to bed with your own cousin and her husband.”
Regulus gritted his teeth, hurt, angry but he kept his arms twined around Snape.
“Stop defending yourself, Severus,” Regulus whispered. “You’re saying all these hateful things because you don’t want me to touch you. You don’t want me to care about you. It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right,” Snape said. “You have no concept of right and wrong. If you did, you wouldn’t want to touch me. You know what I do Regulus. You know what I’ve done in the service of the Dark Lord. I’ve tortured people, I’ve killed, and I’ve used curses that are unforgivable. My contribution, my only asset is my anger, my hatred and my willingness to hurt and destroy.”
“That doesn’t have to be all you are, Severus,” Regulus said. Snape’s detached coolness finally broke.
“Look, I won’t have you slumming with me,” he snarled struggling to pry himself free from Regulus. “You’re a dilettante, Regulus. Does it amuse you to mix with these Muggle punks, listen to their wretched music? Am I supposed to be another tent in your freak show, an ugly half-breed assassin?” He pulled free of Regulus who promptly collapsed to the pavement.
Despite himself, Snape knelt beside him. “Regulus, are you all right?” he asked.
“Lovely, lovely,” the boy slurred sitting up. “Things have just gone a bit blurry is all.” He caught Snape’s lapel. “Listen to me, Severus. I am not slumming. Not tonight, not with you. I brought you all here because I think it’s wonderful. Apparently you and Rodolphus and Bella just see them as a pack of freakish Muggles but they’re mad and creative and joyful. They’re beautiful, their music is beautiful, those men kissing is beautiful and that girl with the dreadlocks and her frilly bloomers on the outside is beautiful. As far as I’m concerned, you’re beautiful as well, when you’re not lashing out to convince me how wretched you are. Believe what you want Severus. If you want to believe the worst about me and yourself, I can’t change your mind.”
He unfastened the locket, held it out to Snape. “If you want this back,” he said, “you’re welcome to it.” Snape shook his head.
“I want you to keep it,” he said. “I… I’m sorry Regulus. I was cruel to you. I am afraid. You confuse me; I have trouble understanding how someone like you would want anything to do with someone like me.”
“You’re the one who’s putting me off, Severus.”
“If I kissed you again, then,” Snape said hesitantly, “it wouldn’t just be something for you to laugh about with Bellatrix and Rodolphus?”
“It wasn’t the first time. Are you going to kiss me then?”
“Not on the street like this,” Snape said looking nervously about. “Anyway, you’re about to pass out. I think I’d like you to remember.”
“Would you take me home then?” Regulus asked.
“To your flat?”
“No, to your home, to Spinner’s End.”
“You’re joking, Regulus. You can’t possibly want to spend the night there. It’s a nasty, rundown hovel. I haven’t got house-elves or really much of anything except a dreary lot of books.”
“I won’t try to seduce you, Severus. As you said, I’m due to pass out quite soon. I’d just like to be near you, though if you prefer your shame…”
“No,” Snape said. “I quite prefer you.”
He took Regulus in his arms and Side-Along Apparated them both. After they disappeared, the street was empty except for Tom Robinson’s voice echoing through the club doors as he sang:
The kiss on your lips tastes of wormwood
So swing low, Iscariot, my friend
I'm promising you
I'm gonna see it right through
I'm gonna hold out to the bitterest end
Hold out... hold out
I'm gonna hold out to the bitterest end.
Author: Bitterfig
Prompt: Muggle London
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: Approximately 2660
Pairing: Regulus Black/Severus Snape
Warnings: Pre-slash, a bit of language, discussion of homosexuality, mature themes.
Disclaimer: I did not create these characters nor do I own them. I do not profit in any way from their use.
Summary: May, 1979. A group of Death Eaters in Muggle London to celebrate Regulus Black’s eighteenth birthday.
Author’s Notes: Both the Slits and the Tom Robinson Band are actual groups that were performing in 1979. Lyrics quoted are from “Glad to Be Gay” and “Hold Out” by the Tom Robinson Band.
Thanks to Nzomniac for Beta-reading this story
Slumming
“I’m sorry, Reggie, but your propensity for slumming is getting completely out of hand,” Rodolphus Lestrange declared tauntingly. “It’s bad enough you’re forcing us to celebrate your eighteenth birthday in some hideous little club that even self-respecting Mudbloods have the good sense to avoid but now you’re telling me you’ve invited the Snipe as well?”
“Snape,” Regulus corrected him placidly. “His name is Severus Snape. Not Snipe, not Guttersnipe or half-breed or that wretched creature or any of the other names you call him.”
“Tell me, Reggie, did you plan this evening with the intention of making it as devoid of enjoyment for all involved as possible? If so, you’re a smashing success. Forget the horrible club and the company of Muggles, Snipe alone would ruin the evening. He’s the antithesis of fun; he’s like a dark cloud.”
“Divine, isn’t it,” Regulus quipped never taking his eyes away from the window.
Bellatrix Lestrange swept in, giving kisses equally deep and lingering to her husband and cousin.
“Surely you’ve noticed, Rodolphus, that Reggie is completely bewitched by Severus,” she said. Rodolphus blanched.
“You’re joking,” he said in genuine horror. “Reggie, please tell me you haven’t let that… that… wretched creature touch you.”
“Let him touch me?” Regulus sighed. “I’ve been practically begging him to for the past three months. He kissed me the day we met, the morning after I got my Mark, but not since then.”
“Well, I for one can fully appreciate your charms,” Rodolphus said running his hand over the curve of the boy’s ass. “My heart just breaks at the thought of you wasting them on that slimy little git.”
“I think they make a rather amusing couple,” Bellatrix teased. “The purebred and the mongrel if you will.”
“The peacock and the crow,” Rodolphus said joining in the game.
“I think crows are quite beautiful,” Regulus said distantly.
“Nonsense, baby,” Bellatrix sneered. “Crows eat the tripe out of corpses.”
“Here he is,” Regulus whispered. The bell chimed and Rodolphus threw open the door to Severus Snape, a scrawny thin, stoop-shouldered young man whose face was mostly obscured by his greasy black hair.
“Snipe,” Rodolphus greeted him. “We were just saying how lucky we are that you could come with us tonight. Muggle London can be so imposing to the uninitiated but since you’re practically a Muggle yourself…”
Snape ignored his taunts, focusing his attention entirely on Regulus.
“Happy Birthday,” he muttered gracelessly. Regulus smiled, delighted, and brushed a kiss across Snape’s cheek.
Rodolphus groaned, rolling his eyes. “This is simply too much,” he said. Bellatrix let out a cackle of laughter.
“Severus, dear,” she purred. “I’m worried about you. You look absolutely wretched. You’ve gone past pale to gray and you’re thinner than ever, if that’s possible. Even the Dark Lord himself takes time to sleep and eat.”
“And bathe,” Rodolphus added cruelly.
“Things are escalating,” Snape said with an icy sternness, his schoolboy awkwardness disappearing. “You must know that. When I’m called upon, I serve. I hope you would do the same.”
“Don’t doubt that I will,” Bellatrix said with equal steel. They were alike in that way, Regulus noted. They were themselves but they were also soldiers -- hard, unyielding, dedicated to Voldermort. He wondered if he would be like that when the time came. He suspected he would not.
It was late May; Regulus had been a Death Eater since February. So far he hadn’t really done much of anything. A bit of spying around Hogwarts but that wasn’t really so much different than what he would have done anyway - watching and listening.
He was eighteen now. In less than a month he would be finished with school. The time was rapidly approaching when Voldermort would call upon him to prove himself.
He didn’t want to think about it.
“We should go now,” he said. Bellatrix became all kittenish malice once more.
“I’ve engaged a car,” she announced. “I simply refuse to travel on that filthy Underground.”
*
Snape surveyed the dark, smoke-filled club packed with people in torn, written-on and simply outlandish clothing, their eyes ringed in black. Some of them had their hair fashioned into crests and horns and dyed bright colors or black. Quite a few were wearing large leather boots with nails poking through the eye holes, spiked and studded bands around their wrists promising violence. Between the maimed t-shirts, leather jackets, unfamiliar hairstyles and liberal use of eyeliner, the line between men and women seemed precariously blurred.
Regulus, who was wearing a black t-shirt, jeans and had a bicycle chain wrapped around his wrist like a bracelet, fit in reasonably well. However the Lestranges’ in their formalwear resembled nothing so much as a society couple that had wandered into a zombie movie. Snape, of course, was the worst. Warned to wear Muggle clothes, he had unearthed an ill-fitting gray suit that was clearly from another era and would have seemed out of place anywhere.
“What is this place?” Snape asked Regulus. “And why exactly are we here?”
“This is a punk club,” Regulus informed him. “I’m here to see the Slits and the Tom Robinson Band. You’re here because it’s my birthday so I get to make everyone do as I please.”
“What, you mean everyday isn’t that way for the Black family’s heir apparent?” Snape asked with a touch of bitterness.
“You’d be surprised,” Regulus said simply.
“What’ll you have?” a bartender demanded.
“A glass of your finest elf made wine for the lady and Firewhisky for the rest of us,” Rodolphus requested snickering.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” The bartender asked.
“Vodka shots, please,” Regulus requested passing the man a fifty pound note. “And keep them coming.”
“Reggie, I hope you don’t intend to get Severus drunk and take advantage of him,” Bellatrix teased. Regulus scowled fiercely at her then downed the shot of vodka the bartender had placed before him. Snape stared straight ahead refusing to acknowledge her remark.
A gaggle of women pushed their way through the crowd onto the stage. Their hair hung in dreadlocks, one was wearing a top hat, one carried an umbrella, another was wearing what appeared to be a pair of frilly bloomers.
“Are those witches trying to pass for Muggles?” Snape asked.
“Those are the Slits,” Regulus said. “They’re Muggles but I think they’re also witches, though not in the way that Bella is.”
“Thank goodness,” Bellatrix sneered as the women lurched into a strange, disjointed song.
“They do things to music that are quite extraordinary,” Regulus continued. “I think there’s a form of magic in that. The Wizarding world is too concerned with flashy spells that are visible and tangible. I think they ignore whole realms of magic because they’re too difficult to define. I think there’s a form of magic in putting together words, sounds, or images. I don’t think Muggles and wizards are as far apart as we like to think.”
“I think your cousin’s drunk already, darling” Rodolphus said to his wife. “He’s talking nonsense.”
“It’s closer to blasphemy than nonsense, I think,” Bellatrix said. Her eyes were flashing dangerously.
“If we’re so different, how is it that Muggles and wizards can have children together?” Regulus went on. “And how is it that wizards can be born to Muggles and Muggles to wizards? Isn’t that what Squibs are after all? Wizard-born Muggles.”
Bellatrix showed her teeth. “I think you need to shut up, Reggie.” She warned. “Or I might be forced to speak to Auntie Black about this. Just because you’re eighteen doesn’t mean you can’t still be beaten.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Regulus said quietly hanging his head.
“Don’t be so hard on the boy, Bella,” Rodolphus spoke up. “He doesn’t mean anything. He’s just trying to impress Snipe with how open-minded he is toward Muggles and the like.”
“I certainly hope that’s all it is,” she snapped. “It’s making me quite angry.”
“Well, let’s have a dance shall we to this extraordinary music.”
He took his wife’s hand and led her into the area before the stage. Though it was crowed with pogo-ing punk kids, Bellatrix and Rodolphus began to dance an elegant waltz to the fast, jerky music.
“I have something for you,” Snape said when the couple was safely out of earshot. “I’ve just taken over my parents’ old house at Spinner’s End you know and I’ve been going through their things. Most of it’s rubbish like this old suit of my father’s but there was one fine thing in the house - one fine thing I own - and I wanted you to have it.” He opened his hand, revealing a silver locket on a chain. “It was my mother’s. I’d like you to have it. I’ve had it engraved with your initials.”
“Thank you, Severus,” Regulus said solemnly. “It’s beautiful. Would you put it on me?” Snape cast his eyes around.
“Well, I don’t suppose anyone would notice in a place like this,” he said fastening the chain around the boy’s throat. Regulus smiled beguilingly.
“You like me then?” he asked.
“Very much,” Snape muttered looking away. Regulus took his hand.
“I wasn’t sure,” he said. Snape drew his hand away.
“Don’t, Regulus, not in public.”
“But you just said you….”
“Not in public,” Snape said somewhat harshly with considerable impatience. Regulus drank another shot of vodka, probably his sixth or seventh of the evening. Snape had hardly touched his first.
The Slits finished their set and the Tom Robinson Band took the stage. The first chords they played ignited howls of approval from the audience. Apparently the song was familiar to many of them. Strumming his bass, Tom Robinson started to sing.
The British Police are the best in the world.
I don't believe one of these stories I've heard.
'Bout them raiding our pubs for no reason at all.
Lining the customers up by the wall.
Picking out people and knocking them down.
Resisting arrest as they're kicked on the ground.
Searching their houses and calling them queer.
I don't believe that sort of thing happens here.
Sing if you're glad to be gay.
Sing if you're happy that way.
Quite a few people in the audience were singing along as if it were a drinking song; a couple of men near the stage were kissing. Snape jumped to his feet.
“I have to get out of here,” he said and pushed his way to the door. Dazed by Snape’s abrupt departure, Regulus rose and unsteadily followed him outside.
“Severus, what’s wrong?” he asked catching up to Snape who turned on him angrily.
“Why did you bring me here?” Snape snarled. “Did you want to see me humiliated?”
“No. I didn’t, I wouldn’t…” Regulus stammered, dumbstruck.
“That song, all those people singing along, those men kissing each other - the whole thing is indecent.”
“Severus, that song is about being gay. What do you think we are?” He was standing just behind Snape; defiantly he wrapped his arms around the older boy. Snape didn’t stop him but his eyes and his voice grew cold and empty.
“I like you, Regulus,” he said. “I’m attracted to you. I want to kiss you, I want to do other things with you, I want us to be together but I’m not happy about that. These are abnormal feelings, disgusting thoughts. Things have happened to me, when I was younger. They warped me, perverted my feelings. I’m not proud of that and I’m not glad of it.”
“There’s nothing wrong about it, Severus,” Regulus protested.
“I can’t expect you to understand,” Snape said icily. “You had a libertine upbringing courtesy of your sick family. You have no morals. You had a reputation at school when you were fourteen years old. There were stories about you with girls, boys, both of them together, even teachers.”
Regulus laughed uncomfortably, trying to turn it into a joke. “What, house-elves or centaurs or merpeople?”
“There were rumors about you and your brother,” Snape told him. “I never gave them credence until I saw how casually you go to bed with your own cousin and her husband.”
Regulus gritted his teeth, hurt, angry but he kept his arms twined around Snape.
“Stop defending yourself, Severus,” Regulus whispered. “You’re saying all these hateful things because you don’t want me to touch you. You don’t want me to care about you. It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right,” Snape said. “You have no concept of right and wrong. If you did, you wouldn’t want to touch me. You know what I do Regulus. You know what I’ve done in the service of the Dark Lord. I’ve tortured people, I’ve killed, and I’ve used curses that are unforgivable. My contribution, my only asset is my anger, my hatred and my willingness to hurt and destroy.”
“That doesn’t have to be all you are, Severus,” Regulus said. Snape’s detached coolness finally broke.
“Look, I won’t have you slumming with me,” he snarled struggling to pry himself free from Regulus. “You’re a dilettante, Regulus. Does it amuse you to mix with these Muggle punks, listen to their wretched music? Am I supposed to be another tent in your freak show, an ugly half-breed assassin?” He pulled free of Regulus who promptly collapsed to the pavement.
Despite himself, Snape knelt beside him. “Regulus, are you all right?” he asked.
“Lovely, lovely,” the boy slurred sitting up. “Things have just gone a bit blurry is all.” He caught Snape’s lapel. “Listen to me, Severus. I am not slumming. Not tonight, not with you. I brought you all here because I think it’s wonderful. Apparently you and Rodolphus and Bella just see them as a pack of freakish Muggles but they’re mad and creative and joyful. They’re beautiful, their music is beautiful, those men kissing is beautiful and that girl with the dreadlocks and her frilly bloomers on the outside is beautiful. As far as I’m concerned, you’re beautiful as well, when you’re not lashing out to convince me how wretched you are. Believe what you want Severus. If you want to believe the worst about me and yourself, I can’t change your mind.”
He unfastened the locket, held it out to Snape. “If you want this back,” he said, “you’re welcome to it.” Snape shook his head.
“I want you to keep it,” he said. “I… I’m sorry Regulus. I was cruel to you. I am afraid. You confuse me; I have trouble understanding how someone like you would want anything to do with someone like me.”
“You’re the one who’s putting me off, Severus.”
“If I kissed you again, then,” Snape said hesitantly, “it wouldn’t just be something for you to laugh about with Bellatrix and Rodolphus?”
“It wasn’t the first time. Are you going to kiss me then?”
“Not on the street like this,” Snape said looking nervously about. “Anyway, you’re about to pass out. I think I’d like you to remember.”
“Would you take me home then?” Regulus asked.
“To your flat?”
“No, to your home, to Spinner’s End.”
“You’re joking, Regulus. You can’t possibly want to spend the night there. It’s a nasty, rundown hovel. I haven’t got house-elves or really much of anything except a dreary lot of books.”
“I won’t try to seduce you, Severus. As you said, I’m due to pass out quite soon. I’d just like to be near you, though if you prefer your shame…”
“No,” Snape said. “I quite prefer you.”
He took Regulus in his arms and Side-Along Apparated them both. After they disappeared, the street was empty except for Tom Robinson’s voice echoing through the club doors as he sang:
The kiss on your lips tastes of wormwood
So swing low, Iscariot, my friend
I'm promising you
I'm gonna see it right through
I'm gonna hold out to the bitterest end
Hold out... hold out
I'm gonna hold out to the bitterest end.