The Story of Regulus Black - Years 1-4

CXV. Blood on My Hands and Water Turned Red

CW: mentions of suicide, self-harm in the form of scratching, & emetophobia

Deacon Ackland and Francesco Anderson were going on a date.

They had not been able to go on a date on Valentine's Day because of Francesco's detention, so they decided that the most logical time to have their delayed date would be the next holiday. So, here they were, wandering an empty corridor on the fourth floor that they knew to go unvisited.

The two of them had gotten quite bold in the emptiness of the corridor and grabbed onto one another's hands. Their fingers twined together and their palms pressed against each other between them, swinging with their footsteps as they talked about where, exactly, they wanted to go for their date that they weren't sure could be called a date at all.

"We could just go sit in the corridor or something?" Deacon suggested.

"That's not a date, though, that's just sitting in a corridor," Francesco said matter-of-factly.

Deacon let out a sigh, though it wasn't an irritated one. It was more of a sigh that was laced with agreement and disappointment. "We could..." he trailed off. Not only did he not have any ideas, but the two boys had also rounded the corner into a corridor that held quite a peculiar sight.

Deacon's face paled when he had fully processed what he was seeing, and his voice came out a bit strangled. "Is that... blood?"

Francesco let go of Deacon's hand at once, trying to suppress the panic that was running through him. After all - whatever was going on - he knew that at least one of them would need to remain calm. Just based on how much Deacon's voice was already being strained, he guessed that it would have to be him.

Upon further inspection, Francesco learned that it was, indeed, blood that was covering the floor of the corridor. There was a pool of it in the middle, and then a steady trail which indicated that, whoever was bleeding, they were bleeding fast. He felt his own blood run cold at the sight of just how much of it there was, and he slowly drew his wand as he crept down the hall and followed the trail of thick, crimson liquid.

Deacon moved to follow, but he was distracted. In the biggest pool of blood, there was a wand. Though, it wasn't just any wand, for it held an odd familiarity that Deacon couldn't quite place. He took his chances and bent down, picking it up and coating the tips of his fingers red in the process.

Deacon brought the wand up to his face as Francesco rounded the corner. He furrowed his brow a bit, doing his best to wipe off the red which was staining it and making it quite hard to recognize. Though, when he got a look at the carvings that snaked up from the handle, his mouth went rather dry.

It was at that moment that he heard quite a lot of shuffling and frantic mumbling. Deacon looked up, eyeing the corner that his boyfriend had disappeared around. "Fran?" He called. "Fran, this is Regulus's wand."

"Deacon," Francesco called back. Deacon's stomach dropped when he heard the panic that was clear in Fran's voice, and he had to swallow very hard to keep himself composed. "I need you to go get Madam Pomfrey."

"What?" Deacon began walking slowly, approaching carefully and preparing himself for whatever he was about to see.

"Do not come down here, Deacon. I just... you need to go get her now, ok?"

The urgency in Francesco's voice was what told Deacon that this was a very serious matter. Without another thought, he clutched Regulus's wand tightly in his fist and spun around. Deacon ran to the hospital wing, his hair whipping behind him as he took corners a bit too fast and cleared the lengths of corridors in seconds.