The Raven sent a patronus again the next morning, when the light was barely shining through the tent and Regulus found himself fighting the exhaustion of the past couple days.
He remembered little of the night, of whether James had truly been there, or whether it'd been a figment of his dream. But when he woke to a space where the blankets had been pushed aside, just large enough for another person, and so he came to the logical conclusion that James had, in fact, been there, and then pushed the thought out of his mind entirely.
Today, he wouldn't have the time to be distracted. They wouldn't have the time to be distracted.
For all that Regulus had heard about the Raven, he still didn't know what to expect; deep down, he hoped that there would be some recognition, though, of the mask they wore. A Death Eater with a patronus.
It hadn't been unheard of, back at Hogwarts. Evan had produced enough to create a shield. Selwyn's was a coyote. Bellatrix, even, had a patronus before she'd graduated—an ashwinder that stalked, low on the ground. The Mark, though—that was what obliterated them, really. It was why Regulus would probably never be able to cast one, himself. And why seeing the Raven's was so jarring—it was difficult to believe that such an intricate creature could have been conjured by someone who wore the Mark on their own arm.
"You're sure you still want to come?" James asked, pulling his coat over his arms.
Regulus nodded, "I want to see them. Maybe..."
He didn't finish the sentence. Saying it out loud, that he might recognize the Raven, sounded insane. And yet it was true, that was why he wanted to go. Adrenaline thrummed through his veins as he thought of it, the possibility that he'd finally figure out what James hadn't, yet.
"Of course. You'll stay under the cloak the entire time?" James asked.
"Of course."
Regulus wasn't ready to risk that, to reveal himself to another Death Eater. It'd been too long, there were too many possibilities, he'd be compromised, their entire plan for the Horcrux would fail.
But deep down, Regulus knew the excuses were futile. The heart of it was that he was scared.
He still pulled James' invisibility cloak around himself, though. It was surprisingly warm, warm enough to block out the chill of winter, and he found even with just his sweater on, the cold didn't bite as deep in his bones.
They walked, silently, out of the tent and into the forest, boots crunching over the morning frost before James extended his elbow, and Regulus wrapped his fingers in the wool of his coat. And then they apparated away, a snap ringing through the forest.
* * *
When they landed, the footsteps from his last meeting were still there. It was a dry winter. Stepping over the snow, James' boots crushed through a tough layer of ice from the continuous melt and thaw, the melt of the sun and the freeze from the night.
James wasn't even sure this would work. Even with the cloak, there was a high chance the Raven would know he was there anyways. They'd always told James to come alone, threatened that they'd terminate contact should anyone else know of their existence. Frank had been an exception.
But when Regulus asked him—no, told him that he was coming along, James couldn't exactly say no. It was why he was hanging off his arm, now, hidden under the invisibility cloak. He'd have to disguise the extra footprints in the snow, but it wouldn't be too much of a problem. All Regulus needed to do was stand still, block out his mind. The thought made James' fingers itch, but Regulus was far too good at being invisible.
