Diptych

Chapter 3

Those first few days back at school passed as they always did, in a flurry of essays written by aching hands after a month away, and pointless gatherings. First there was the meeting to introduce all of the new prefects to their duties and to give the new Head Boy and Girl a chance to lord themselves over everybody. On that occasion, Regulus was only grateful that Potter let the muggleborn girl do all of the talking. After that, Slughorn cornered him after class to invite him along to his club. It wasn't the first time Regulus had been along to one of those meetings, but he tried to avoid it when he could because there always seemed to be at least a few of Sirius' friends present, and he hated having to listen to them suck up to his Head of House. The Quidditch teams weren't practicing just yet, but there were try-outs for the positions made vacant by the former seventh years, and Regulus was expected to attend and watch out for players he thought impressive. All of that to say, he didn't have very much time in the first week or so at school to write to Tom. The moments where he finally felt he could speak to somebody openly and without fearing their reaction, or that they might tell somebody what he'd said and embarrass him came only when his dorm mates were asleep, or if he smuggled the diary into a quiet corner of the library.

On the second Saturday of term, Regulus found himself alone in the dorm with Shafiq. If he could only get the boy to leave, he'd be able to get back to what he'd been telling Tom about the explosive arguments that had led to Sirius' departure from Grimmauld Place, and the way he'd discarded his family as if they'd never meant anything to him. Perhaps they hadn't. But Regulus was being too subtle in his attempts to convince Shafiq that his time would be better spent outdoors on the pitch before the sun disappeared completely. It only sent him further into his current ramblings.

"It doesn't really make much sense to be captain in your seventh year, you know? Not when NEWTs are happening, at any rate. He'll probably give it up then, and when he does, I'll be ready."

"Castor didn't give it up, did she? She stayed on right up until she left, if I recall rightly." Regulus asked, drumming his fingers against the leather cover of the diary. They'd had the same captain since the end of their fourth year, and Castor had been it before that, taking Regulus right back to the time he started playing as seeker.

"Can't remember. But the Hufflepuff captain did last year, and remember Scholes stepped in for him? Well, he's captain now. It makes complete sense."

"So if you're made captain, you'll step down when it's time for NEWTs?" To that, Shafiq scoffed.

"Obviously not, but that's a different matter." He was laying on his stomach across his bed and turning the pages of some Quidditch magazine. He did have a point, as annoying as it was. Shafiq wanted to play professionally after school, and everybody knew that. Prioritising potions and herbology over his potential role as captain would probably be a mistake. Still, Regulus resigned himself to the fact that getting him to leave seemed a hopeless wish. He'd just have to sneak off somewhere after dark to talk to Tom. When Montague and Flynn stumbled through the door, apparently partway through some card game or other, he tucked it back underneath his pillow. Not that there was much need to, the two boys barely glanced in his direction even as Montague spoke to him, too enthralled by the cards they were passing back and forth.

"Snape's waiting for you out there, mate." He said, not waiting for a response before throwing himself down on Flynn's bed to continue their game. Regulus clenched his jaw, allowing this latest disappointment to pile atop the others. He considered how nice the rest of the evening might have been if he'd spent it listening to Shafiq talk about his plans for the following year's Quidditch tactics. But it wouldn't do to have Selwyn running into Snape on his way up to bed and complaining about the intrusion all night.

"Did he say what he wanted?"

"No, just said you better hurry up." Regulus opened his mouth, unsure of what insult was about to leave it, but knowing that Snape would inspire one if anybody did. Whatever he began saying was drowned out by Flynn's groan at having lost to Montague. He threw down the cards onto the bed and the two of them began bickering back and forth. None of the boys were watching him, there was no reason for him to put on a performance, but he still found himself packing things he didn't need into his satchel, just so that he could slip the diary between a jumper and his half-written transfigurations essay without attracting suspicion. He'd no intention of pulling it out in Snape's presence, but he was a Slytherin, and shared a bedroom with four other Slytherins, and he didn't trust them with his belongings. Especially not belongings as special as that one, not in his absence or otherwise.