Chapter Text
In the cold winter of 1977, Regulus Black, sole heir of the Noble House of Black, was branded with the Dark Mark. At 16 years old Regulus was the Dark Lord's youngest servant, a top student at the Wizarding school of Hogwarts, a noble heir to his family name.
Later that night, his father's pat of approval on his shoulder felt hollow, a fleeting gesture that faded as he left him and his mother alone in the entrance hall.
His mother always had the deepest of gazes, full and yet so empty, like a void. The black eyes stared into the boy, and as many times happened, Regulus could not read whatever the void saw or thought. His mother made a motion for him to follow, he believed, but everything seemed too blurry for Regulus to calculate.
All he knew was that in between a blink and the next they ended up separated by the frame of his bedroom door, as his mother drew closer than she had in many years and hugged him.
A shiver ran down his spine, as if the winter air had passed through an open window. But it wasn't the cold that chilled him—it was his mother's embrace, almost polite, like one you would give to a stranger.
Then, in a whisper that seemed to echo through his chest, she uttered; "You've made me proud."
In the next breath, she was gone, his door was closed, and he had turned to gaze into the same walls of his bedroom. The same walls that surrounded him ever since his first memory, adorned with posters and notes, filled with words of little meaning and soulless annotations. He didn’t have a single photo or memory on these walls. Mere silent witnesses to the emptiness that pervaded his existence. Quite fitting for how utterly numb Regulus felt.
In the cold winter of 1977, Regulus Black, sole heir of the Noble House of Black, was branded with the Dark Mark.
At 16 years old Regulus was the oldest he had ever been, yet never felt so young.
Alone in the silence of his room, he could feel the wetness of tears staining his cheeks, though he did not remember when he started to cry, nor could point out why he was. He was completely numb. It was as if he had lost the ability to breathe, think, or feel anything at all, save for the burning sensation in his left wrist where the Dark Mark now pierced his skin.
Gazing back at his walls he comes to doubt if being above the less pure advantaged him at all. The clung to a sense of security, the belief that if he followed the path laid out by his respected family would give him the best outcome, now felt like fragile illusions slipping through his grasp.
Because this wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't what he had anticipated. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
And yet, here he was, grappling with the unsettling truth that perhaps his carefully constructed reality was nothing more than a knife that came back to stab him in the back. That he had been sharpening the very weapon that would take him out.
Regulus had never truly believed that his parents would stoop so low as to bow to the madman. He understood and somewhat agreed with his ideals, of course, but to give up your body to be one of another's servant? That seemed like the antithesis of a Black.
Regulus was starting to question if he truly knew what being a Black meant. If it meant anything at all.
They had offered Regulus as a token of their loyalty, a permanent brand etched into his skin as a testament to their allegiance. And now he was signed and marked as a servant, with no soul or escape. That cut deeper than any physical mark could, leaving Regulus like nothing more than a pawn in their twisted game of power and prestige. A game they had always played but that Regulus believed to be more than a discartful pawn.
He wasn't Sirius.
Regulus's senses slowly returned to him, his body tensed as sweat beaded upon his forehead. His throat felt raw, as if he had been screaming for hours, though not a word had passed his lips in the last. His chest tightened with each labored breath, a suffocating weight pressing down upon him.
Sliding down the wall, Regulus buried his face in his hands, the tears he couldn't process streaming down a blank face, and his lungs burning. He couldn't tell if he was breathing too fast or not at all. His head throbbed with a dull ache, not as heavy as the marked forearm which burned and itched .
For the first time in his life, Regulus found himself adrift, drowning in sea. The carefully laid plans and calculated maneuvers that had guided him thus far seemed meaningless in the face of the overwhelming emptiness that consumed him.
He had spent his entire life playing the role of the obedient son, the dutiful heir, the loyal servant of his family's legacy. But as he sat there, broken and alone, Regulus couldn't help but wonder if it had all been worth it.
For a flick, Regulus’ traitorous brain wonders if Sirius was indeed right at some point.
Not about everything, but maybe some of it wasn't all recklessness and his need to be contradicting and the brightest in the room. Had his sacrifices been not as selfless as he calculated?
Had the hollow approval he so desperately sought been worth it? Nothing seemed worth anything at that point.
He wondered whether Hogwarts would still offer the same refuge now that what he needed to escape was physically embroiled in his skin.
–
Hogwarts, as he imagined, did not comfort him at all.
The hideous tattoo did ache for some days, maybe weeks, he couldn’t recall much that went past the last few. Now it simply existed there, a permanent fixture on his skin, as if it had always belonged. The thought of it made him nauseous.
The haze extended through the entire winter, the platform, and the train ride. However, he could remember Pandora's hand on his during the ride. She had held it on her lap and given gentle caresses and fidgets. He believed it did offer some momentary comfort, but he couldn't shake the fear that she might have sensed something amiss, her visions or presumptions threatening to entangle her in the web of his troubles. He did not want her involved in this for as long as he could.
He got to school, sat with Evan and Dorcas for the banquet. Though they spoke, he couldn't recall if he had said a single word in response. Merlin he feels pathetic, each moment of clarity bringing the weight of his inadequacy and pressing down. And then, in another blink he was in his and Evans dorm, sitting tense on his bed.
What was happening to him? What was his brain fighting against, leaving him feeling like a numb, walking corpse?
"Black?" Evan's voice fades in, "You alright mate? You've been quiet. Ah well, more than usual. You didn't seem too well on the train either, are you sick or something?" his face frowned somewhat concerned as he studied Regulus.
Regulus looked into Evan's eyes. They had talked about aligning themselves with the Dark Lord before. Evan seemed interested, and Barty.. well, Barty had seemed downright enthusiastic.
Despite his many moments of idiocy, Barty possessed a hidden genius that impressed even Regulus at times. He was in Ravenclaw for Merlin's beard, and he did get those 12 OWLs, to prove something to his father, yes, but he did get them by himself. And so, it was clear that emotion often guided Barty's actions more than rational thought, particularly when it came to defying his father by serving a blood purist maniac. Sometimes Regulus believed that whatever went on in Barty's house was making him go insane.
Evan, on the other hand, seemed more adaptable. With siblings to share the burden and a family name not as prestigious as the Blacks, Regulus imagined that Evan had more freedom to change his mind. Besides, he never seemed as attached to family and loyalty to lineage, not like Regulus.
But Evan goes wherever Barty goes. So there is that.
And he is no saint, Evan is an incredible dueler and has a clear infatuation with conflict and perhaps even an interest in being the one causing harm. Regulus never asked, they never talked this far into it.
Without a word, Regulus extended his left arm and pushed the sleeve up, studying Evan's face. There wasn't much of a thought behind showing Evan the mark, Regulus just didn't see why not. Evan was a good friend, he trusted him more than most. He wasn't Pandora or Dorcas, but they wouldn't understand. Evan would though.
Regulus's face remained stoic as Evan's reaction unfolded before him. Evan's eyes bulged and his mouth hung open in astonishment at the sight of the Dark Mark. He bombarded Regulus with questions, his words tumbling out in a rush of excitement and curiosity.
"Wow, Reg-" Evan smiled at him, getting closer to look better, "That's- that's a good thing, yeah? That's- wow, are you the youngest one? Ever? Merlin dude! Barty will want you to recommend him you know yeah?" Evan gave an incredulous laugh, he was still studying the mark as Regulus' stomach sank lower.
"You-" Regulus clears his throat, "Are you actually joining then, Rosier?" His voice was a bit rougher but still neutral.
Evan's smirk faltered slightly, but he didn't back down. "Yeah, of course I am! Especially now you're in, you think we're letting you get the glory alone, is it, Black?"
Regulus held Evan's gaze steadily. "I would think more carefully about it if I were you, Evan. Don't consider it traitorous to back out—you still have the chance to. And if you can convince Barty to avoid making foolish choices just to spite his father, it would be wise."
Evan clicked his tongue in response. "Oh, dear Regulus, my good friend, don't tell me you're scared?"
"It's not about fear, Rosier," Regulus replied evenly. "Use the brain you have sometimes; it will serve you well."
"Regulus," Evan says more seriously, "I am not hiding from war, I am no coward" and if Regulus flinched, no one mentioned.
"I will fight for what I believe like a man, like my father and siblings, like you and Barty, yeah? We will be together in this, the three of us, it will be nice." Evan gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder but had a tight smile. Regulus wondered if he had crossed a line, said too much.
His thoughts traveled to Pandora. He could never in any world see her agreeing to this, Evan must know that. Despite being twins, he was certain Pandora held beliefs that were starkly contrary to Evan's. Regulus found himself wondering how she would react when she learned of her brother's decision. Would she try to change his mind, fight against him? Would they go to war on opposite sides with a newfound hatred for their lifelong company? The Rosier twins had such a strong bond, would war destroy it like it did to all else?
And then Sirius came to mind, and the thoughts stopped. His arm itched.
–
Evan told Barty, of course.
It didn't come as a surprise to Regulus. After all, he hadn't really asked Evan to keep it a secret, so it was only natural for Evan to tell Barty. Regulus wasn't upset by it but, well, Barty being Barty, now knowing Regulus has the mark, made him feel a tad more under watch. Barty wasn;’t quiet and calm about anything, so he asked questions and made bold comments. The extra set of knowing eyes tightened his lungs.
Regulus made it explicitly clear to both Evan and Barty that Pandora and Dorcas were not to know. Both other boys agreed immediately. Regulus knew that Barty and Dorcas had been having some loud fights in the last few months. Both were very self assured and bold people, with extremely opposite opinions, that with the years have started to become more serious. But Regulus felt that, differently from Cas, Barty had a genuine hesitance and fear towards her. She was insanely powerful and they all knew, better not test your luck.
By Evan's face and the fact he hadn't seen him and Dora much interact during the train ride, he felt a worry that there might be current tension between the twins. Their occasional bickering wasn't out of the ordinary, but Regulus sensed there might be more to it this time. A more serious subject in between.
He really didn't want Pandora tangled in any of this. She was too good to be stuck in the middle of a war between such rotten people. He knew it was unfair to treat her as fragile, like glass that might shatter at any moment, but he couldn't help but worry. She possessed an unmatched strength, but her innate goodness made her vulnerable, plus her being a seer and the possibility of either side wanting to use her, the idea made him ill.
Dorcas was a completely opposite matter. She was the strongest of flames, warmest of fires. She was fierce, strong, and borderline terrifying when needed. And this would be a case seen as needed by her. Dorcas was not one to entertain elaborate plans or explanations; her opinions were firm and unwavering. She wouldn't understand, and that would be it. And he is so scared of losing her too.
But it was quite inevitable, and facing Dorcas would be like standing in the path of a raging storm. All he does, for now, is ask the universe to not start its war just yet.
He felt better today, less cloudy minded. The classes went by swiftly and he talked to Dora and Cas with almost normality. But there were moments when he caught Pandora casting him clouded looks, though he couldn't assume being the reason behind them. Perhaps it was related to her ongoing disagreement with Evan.
"Her parents were incredibly sweet to me, which I will be honest I did not expect. I mean, Marls had told me they were very happy that I would spend some days with them during winter but I genuinely thought she was trying to not scare me or whatever-" Dorcas had all her mind to Marlene Mckinnon today, well, more than usual.
Regulus had no ill towards Mckinnon, but her being a typical Gryffindor and close mates with Sirius always made him uneasy about her. Which was terribly unfair to Dorcas, so he always made an extra effort to let her ramble as much as she wished about her girlfriend.
Seeing Dorcas, typically stoic and proud, waxing poetic about her girlfriend warmed him, but that he would never say out loud. Regulus appreciated Marlene for how happy she made his friend, whom he would remember.
Dorcas continued her romance tales, Pandora was very into her sweet winter stories. Eventually, the owls entered for lunch correspondence, and Regulus was surprised when a white snow owl dropped a white envelope directly on his lap.
"Oh?” Pandora exclaimed softly, “Who is it from Regulus? Were you expecting a letter?" she asked curiously.
Regulus turned the letter, his eyebrows shot up lightly but then relaxed as read the sender.
"Narcissa," he said with a whisper and a small smile.
Regulus felt a surge of warmth as he held the letter from Narcissa in his hands. She had always been his favourite cousin. They were both quiet, introspective children with sharp minds, and they had always found solace in each other's company. Narcissa possessed immense cleverness, and she had an uncanny ability to see through his facade and understand the depths of his emotions.
When Andromeda left, Narcissa had not been well. She was devastated, even if she tried to hide it from her younger cousin, he could see it.
Andromeda was very close to Sirius, who seemed over the roof when she ran away with her muggle lover. Regulus suspected she was a major inspiration to Sirius's own escape.
When Sirius left, Narcissa was the only person in the world who understood his rage.
Regulus often felt that Narcissa could read him like an open book, her perception cutting through his defences with ease. She understood his feelings better than he himself did most time. She knew him in and out and her love was much kinder than mother's.
Pandora smiled softly, “Oh Narcissa, she is quite lovely, was always very polite.”
“She was not a bad housemate. Even if she fell in love with the Malfoy prick out of all. Ah well, tell us what your favourite cousin wrote to you Black, will you? Don’t leave me curious.” Dorcas humoured with a laugh as he opened the delicately packed envelope.
Regulus rolled his eyes before scanning through Narcissa’s delicate handwriting;
Dear Regulus,
I hope this letter finds you well, and hope you are having a great start of term. The garden flowers at Malfoy Manor are flourishing beautifully. I thank you for choosing them with me at the start of winter, you’ve always had a great eye for nature.
I would be interested to know of you. Are you feeling quite fine? Any remaining pains? I worry for you cousin. And please do not confuse worry for pity, for you know I would be the last to send you such. You are strong, smart, and capable of anything you set mind to. Which does not extinguish the worry from your dearest cousin.
The world is terribly cruel to all but I fear that the weight of it has been heavy on your shoulders for some time now. I love you profoundly and beg you for whenever in need of help to come to us. Lucius is fond of you even if he wouldn’t voice it. And Bella may be extreme at times but she does love you very much, I assure.
We expect a visit this late summer, as a meeting with our Lord is honourably arranged by our Manor, I will see you then. The months are too long, I miss walking through the gardens with you.
Love, Narcissa.
The letter had warmth within but reminders of his predicament suffocated his throat. Narcissa was very dearest, Bellatrix was not. She was far into insanity and all could see it, even if Narcissa still refused to admit it.
She did not want to lose another sister, after all. Regulus could understand.
But Bella was not reliable, she was a sadistic, cruel woman. She had been a relatively normal child, but if you looked closer you could see that if not handled carefully she could easily fall into something with no way back.
And in the Black family, you are in no place to be handled carefully.
But Regulus couldn't and wouldn't risk himself in futile attempt to salvage what remained of Bellatrix's humanity. As much as he would prefer for a different outcome, he knew more than any that sometimes, self preservation had to come first.
Narcissa's offer was undoubtedly from the heart, but ultimately futile. With Bella living at the manor and Lucius only seeming to have a cent of empathy towards Narcissa herself ( even if she denies and says he is "always kind to all" ) Malfoy Manor was no refuge.
If he ever found himself in danger, it would likely be from the very man orchestrating the meeting at Malfoy Manor this summer—or worse, from within their own family. The remainder of his predicaments made his arm itch. Regulus could handle his brother's side of the war on his own; the true threat lay elsewhere, and he wasn’t blind to it.
“Oh damn, what’s with the face? Bad news? Is Malfoy already being too much of a git for her?” Dorcas gave a light laugh, trying to read the mood. Pandora was very quiet.
Regulus cleared his throat, “It’s nothing, she talked about the gardens, and me going to the Manor during summer. I had a sudden headache is all, sorry.” He hopes the bad excuses are enough to move the conversation. Lying to Dorcas was impossible and Pandora well, she just knew. Hopefully, they think it is personal or that he is unwell, and that the universe had heard his pleas correctly and didn’t end his false reality so soon.
“You do love gardens,” Pandora says, very softly and airy. She smiles, but it is tight. Regulus frowns.
“You alright Panda? You sound faint,” Dorcas changes her gaze to Pandora with controlled worry.
“Quite fine,” Pandora blinks fast before saying, “Thought I saw something, it was the light, quite sunny today isn’t it? Odd for the season,” she concludes smiling more genuinely.
Regulus and Dorcas share a look but leave it alone. Pandora's seer signs and visions were something they learned early to not overwhelm about.
–
His pleas were heard for about a month. Nothing out of the ordinary happened until late February. He could almost forget about his troubles as long as he did not look at his arm, or the Gryffindor table.
Maybe he should've enjoyed the calm waters of that month a little more. Things began to dismount after that.
It started with Pandora, to say she had been the same since the start of term would be a push. She has been much airier, clouded. Her laughter lacked its usual vivacity, and she withdrew from engaging in the usual banter.
Pandora might be a Ravenclaw, but like Barty, she had much of a Slytherin spirit. Her ambition and determination, her lack of fear of judgment from unimportant people. She did not hesitate to make her voice known and, besides being kind, could be harsh in a way much more effective than someone explosive.
And then one day it snapped, whatever was holding her together.
They were by themselves in an empty corridor, on their way to dinner. The conversation was casual and mundane, but at some point, Pandora halted. She was looking at the floor with empty eyes and a tense face.
"...Pandora?" Regulus tried. At times, Dora would have brief moments of disconnection. Pandora never seemed to be able to explain her "visions" too well, how they looked or felt, so her friends had learned to try and gently push her out of her head at times, it was much ordinary at this point. But she never looked as tense and pale, completely unresponsive.
"Dora? Hey, it's Regulus. We are going to dinner remember? You were talking about a sniffler your father found in the gardens this winter?" Talking helped, or so Pandora had mentioned once, so he did that.
But then she started shaking. Violently.
Her eyes filled with water and fat effortless tears fell through her pale cheeks. Her breathing ragged, air going rapidly in and out of her nose. She did not mutter a whimper. Not a sound besides the breathing.
Now that, was not ordinary.
" Pandora?- Hey, hey it's ok, it's not real-" Regulus was slightly panicky, he would not lie. He wasn't one to panic, besides what recent turmoils might indicate.
But this, yeah, this was panicking.
He then put a gentle and light hand on her shoulder, and before he could say anything, Pandora's head snapped up and her eyes found his. Her sky blue gaze was still clouded and underwater by tears, but she physically responded, which was good.
Her expression changed from blank to a panicked frown. Her mouth opened but she didn't seem able to say anything. She looked around in raspy breaths and suddenly grabbed his hand and took him to the nearest room; an old bathroom.
As soon as they entered, Regulus still very confused and hazed himself, Pandora grabbed both his shoulders and looked into his eyes. Her expression serious despair.
" You took it, didn't you? "
Her voice was rough, and she was out of air as if out of a race. There was sweat starting to form on her forehead and her face was wet with tears. Her eyes were bulged and she still trembled slightly.
"I-" Regulus was quite frighted by her at the moment, Pandora wasn't one to act so, brash. She had such a calm demeanour, this reaction worried him terribly.
He knew exactly what she meant. He did not want to lie. Whatever she saw gave him away anyway, he couldn't run from her anymore.
"Yes." He whispered quickly and directly, looking into her eyes with a rigid body. She was still holding his shoulders intensely, his whole body frozen and stiff. He did not know what to expect from Pandora. When he imagined her finding out about it he imagined Pandora's serious but calm scolds and disappointment. He had never seen her like this, and his brain was blank on what to expect.
Her gut-wrenching sob. Regulus thinks, was the worst reaction he could've gotten.
Pandora then let out a silent cry as her legs gave out and she fell to the floor, still holding on to Regulus who quickly moved to support her elbows and went to the floor with his friend.
Her cries then really broke out, loud broken sobs and heavy tears, she was clinging desperately to Regulus' robes and dropped her head into his lap. Regulus was on his knees, with Pandora bowing into him. She was now holding the front of his robes and crying desperately. Regulus was shaking slightly, lungs empty.
He had never seen Pandora cry. Not like this.
Pandora was one to tear lightly at sad movies and cry of laughter on sunny days. He had never seen her sob.
Her anguish echoed off the walls of the dimly lit bathroom and Regulus found himself lost on how to help, he just kept holding her arms firmly.
He wanted to apologize, to tell her that he never meant to hurt her, but the words caught in his throat, suffocated by his own guilt. But before he had formulated anything, she spoke in a broken trembled voice.
"There was so much blood. Pools of it- it was-" her breathing was rough, and she like many times before seemed at a loss on how to explain what she saw, "there was water, you were--drowning. I don't- sometimes there was no water, just- just blood and, you were alone, and there was a mark and- and- Merlin Reg, Reg I'm so scared." she raised herself slightly and looked up at him, heartbroken and desperate, "Oh Reg please, please, I can't lose you, please."
Pandora never bowed or begged. To no one, never. But then she did, she grabbed both of Regulus' hands, held them tightly to her chest while looking into his grey eyes, and begged him to live.
Regulus just looked at her, at this broken image of his best friend, the kindest soul on earth, the best person to ever set foot in his life and he mourned. Mourned what he had caused for Pandora, mourned how he couldn't protect her for a little longer.
Pandora whined at his silence, closing her eyes slowly. Regulus felt a pang of anguish pierce through him. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but his hands remained frozen lightly holding her arms. They stayed quiet for a moment then Pandora lifted her hands to his face, her touch gentle yet tinged with sadness. Their eyes locked, sharing a silent exchange that spoke volumes. And as their foreheads met, a silent understanding passed between their souls.
Exhaling slowly, Pandora spoke "I love you so much Reg- you do not need to say it back I know you care for me, and I don't know how to make you believe it but I do care for you too, so much. You are my world , Regulus. You are such a good person, you could be so good--" With that, Regulus saw that Pandora was mourning too.
Nodding to her words seemed like too small of an action but Regulus couldn't make himself speak, so Pandora, always knowing, kept going in his place.
“They aren’t always truthful,” she says shakily, “the visions, the sceneries. They can be nothing more than possibilities, and might not come true at all. They have also been rhetorical before, as in- the drown—the drowning yes? It could be metaphorical, and so could the blood. But-” she choked, “it seemed different , more intense, much more real. The visions are never clear scenes, it isn’t like a Pensieve but I could- it was- Merlin I cannot explain it it isn't explainable but-” Regulus trembly brings his hands to rest at her neck while she talks, he hopes its comforting in a way, he isn’t used to this, he just wants Pandora to feel better.
Separating from her to face her better, he says hoarsely “I will be fine,”
But Pandora… knows.
So she reaches again and hugs him tightly. Sobbing quietly as grief washed her. And Regulus hugs her back. They stay curled on the old bathroom floor for a long time.
Her love is much softer than mother’s, too. But that was not a fair comparison. So he just hugged her, and if he cried, no one saw.
Regulus didn’t know much of anything, did he?
–
Regulus felt the weight of time pressing down on him, each moment slipping away like grains of sand in an hourglass. What happened that day in the abandoned bathroom marked the certain start of Regulus’ downfall.
Ever since Pandora had been distant, their conversations lacked the usual easiness and intimacy. They talked, but not like the best friends they were. Regulus knew her words had been sincere that day, but her newfound distance was understandable given the circumstances. Even if he couldn't help but feel the sting of her withdrawal. Perhaps she was allowing herself to withdraw from the pain Regulus being on that path would cause her, and he could not blame her for it.
He also wondered if besides fearing for him, she also feared him.
Deep inside he wished he could've seen her visions, understand whatever she saw. He really missed her, and she was right there. He did not want to think what it would be like when she wasn’t. After school and when the war is an ongoing reality.
Barty and Evan had been very vocal about ideals in the last few months. Regulus wondered if it was their usual bluntness or if his position had unlocked a last door in their heads. He didn’t know nor wanted to think about it.
Regulus found it extremely foolish for the two boys to announce their allegiances out loud not caring for those whose ears may hear. They did not always exclaim full bullshit, but their opinions were not popular outside of Slytherin, and Regulus did not want to be questioned because of their impulsiveness.
But the two reckless boys were feeling quite invincible recently.
“Regulus, don't ruin it mate. Freedom of speech yeah? We can say whatever we want and believe in, it isn’t against the law. Don't be the fun police, yeah?” Evan laughed nonchalantly.
Thing is, the things they said were pretty much against the law.
But as long as Reguulus wasn’t being dragged into or seen as part of their bader he did not care.
The sole thing that worried Regulus out of himself was Evan and Barty themselves. Because something had changed in them. It wasn’t sudden, but perhaps it was the first time Regulus had seen it so clearly.
Evan was cruel. Which was never an adjective he would’ve given the 11 year old blonde boy with sparkly blue eyes of wonder he met on the Slytherin table 5 years back.
He was a very soft kid. Regulus remembers him being upset by the dead animals exposed in class and remembers him hugging a small Regulus who was deeply embarrassed by crying during his first night at school. He remembers it being the first hug he had gotten in a long time.
Evan was soft, empathic, and a good hugger. He was protective of his sister who he loved dearly. He was funny and charismatic. He was the only one who could calm anyone in their group with a single smile or look.
Time changed everything, especially people. And time had changed Evan.
Regulus is embarrassed to admit that he only realized the latter when he watched Evan curse a lone Ravenclaw kid. The boy didn’t seem to be older than 12. They were passing by, him and Evan, the kid didn’t utter a word, but Evan with a sudden motion tripped the kid with a jinx. Even Regulus didn’t see it coming and was quite taken aback by the scene.
The kid fell on his front with an oof, letting the pile of books he was carrying slide through the floor, some notes flying out. He made a pained face, but when he heard Evan’s laugh he bowed his head and rigidly began collecting his books.
Regulus turned to a laughing Evan who hadn't stopped walking the other way. Regulus left the kid to it, he did not want to have any association for what happened. Which did not mean he wasn’t at least confused by Evan’s random act against a random child.
“Did that have any intuit or have you just developed a dislike for random Ravenclaw 1rst years?” Regulus asked in confused disbelief.
Evan tsked still looking forward with a grin, “Second year, and not a random kid, Black. He’s a mudblood that one, had some encounters with him some days before.”, Evan turned to him now, still grinning, “You wouldn’t be always so tense and grumpy if you used your frustrations to push some mud around eh?”, he laughed and gave Regulus a soft elbow to the side.
Regulus stared. He found himself again with that new feeling of uncertainty. Evan sees his turmoil and rolls his eyes, "Regulus, come on man, it's just a random kid, who cares? Besides, if he wasn't somewhere he shouldn't he would've been fine, it's on him honestly."
The conversation died there, leaving an uncomfortable silence until they reached the common room. Over the next few days, Regulus couldn't shake his unease about Evan. His morbid jokes, his callousness towards war casualties, his casual bullying, and his hate-filled rhetoric against mudbloods seemed far more extreme than anything Regulus had ever thought of himself.
When days later he found a delighted Evan showing Barty a page of the Prophet he still didn't expect to see such a horrific image. Evan’s delight came from a report about mudblood children and their mother impaled atop one another through their stomachs in a long pole. Their lifeless hunting eyes and the camera flashes shining the moving picture. There was so much blood, even the black and white image couldn’t soften the horrid pool of it.
The mother was still twitching. Whether she was still alive or not was something Regulus wished to not overthink.
Regulus felt bile up his throat, he excused himself leaving as Evan made a mockery of one of the victim’s faces and Barty laughed loudly. He ran to the bathroom and emptied his stomach. Lucky was him for not analysing the terrific picture for longer, the more he looked the more hunting details were revealed. He was sure the mother’s eyes would haunt his dreams for a few nights. He scratched the itching mark on his arm furiously that noon.
After that day, Regulus never saw Evan again, not the one he remembered.
It wasn’t out of pity or remorse that Regulus saw himself as opposed to Evan’s mockery. He did believe in blood superiority, it was logical. But Regulus was never one with a strong stomach.
Sirius did always call him soft.
He did not see the appeal in watching or harming another. It disgusted him, and perhaps the twist in his chest was some form of pity, but he believed that his averse to it wasn’t out of the kindness of his heart.
He was almost scared of Evan’s infatuation with it, it was horrifying really. Regulus did not know how he took so long to take note.
Barty was somehow worse, but that’s just Barty isn’t it?
He had always had a bit of a loose screw, he was funny and impulsive, always the crazy trouble kid. A funny charismatic guy who made some brash choices at times but who had his heart in place. Not the best at comforting, but definitely lovable and touchy to his friends. Unlike Regulus, who took time to warm up to people, Barty and Evan had been best friends from day one.
Sometimes he thought it might have been fate that created that bond. Sometimes he wondered if fate decided to make them go mad together too.
Saying Barty was a kid with a missing screw was accurate, but, seeing teenager Barty made one think that a single screw was not the problem. Barty wasn’t the funny troublesome Ravenclaw kid he was before.
Barty Crouch Jr was a maniac.
Regulus observed Barty's erratic behaviour. Sometimes, he exhibited tics—flicking his tongue and eyes, whispering rapidly to himself, or laughing too loudly. Other times, he took pleasure in tormenting younger students. Jinxes, curses, threats, and whatnot.
And sometimes he just said some weird shit. And then Evan was there agreeing with him. And Regulus wonders if they are beyond a line that couldn’t be crossed, or if they could’ve been saved at some point. If they were not soulbond to go down that road together would’ve they turned out a bit less out of it? If they had not spoken that first day of classes would it have changed their fate?
He sounds like Pandora, which makes him ache her not being by him, so he stops.
Dorcas lost her patience much later than Regulus expected.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Bartemius Crouch? I never thought you'd stoop so low as to beat up children. What's gotten into you?" she demanded fiercely. Regulus tried to stay very still so as to not get dragged into her rage.
"Wow, someone's got a temper. Cas, stay out of it, will you? None of this concerns you," Barty retorted dismissively.
"None of my concern? Crouch, Marlene told me one of Gryffindor's new chasers is in the Hospital Wing, too scared to talk to Pomfrey because you broke his nose. The kid's 14, Crouch! What the hell??" Dorcas shot back, her voice laced with anger, but still controlled tone.
Dorcas did not shout. And that somehow always made her much scarier when fighting.
“I mean, if the kid won't talk how come you assume it was me? Oh, you wound me, Cassie! Besides, barely a kid at 14, don’t be soft. Why is his kind playing quidditch anyway? Bloody shouldn’t be close to a broom the brat.”
“Never call me Cassie again, Potter saw you punch the kid right in the face you smartass. He told Marlene and took the boy to Pomfrey. She is well aware” She fumed, “Now, do you want to expand about “his kind”, Crouch?”
“Dorcas don’t start with it yeah?-”
“ Start with it? -”, Dorcas had never looked as enraged.
“Come on, don't tell me you sympathize with that lot,” Evan added. “Look, I know you're infatuated with Marlene, but come on, you're better than those blood traitors, Cas. You're one of us-"
“My father is a Muggle, Rosier,” Dorcas interrupted bluntly, her voice deep and grounding. Her posture stiffened, her face displaying a drop of anger, but her eyes burned with rage.
“Huh,” Evan responded after an extended silence, turning a page in the book in his hands without looking up “I had forgotten.” He says almost nonchalantly, but much more seriously.
“Oh, you had is it?” Dorcas fumed lowly, she was still much composed but her rage shook her body slightly.
"But he isn't trying to be a wizard or anything, so-" Barty began.
"But I am, right?" Dorcas cut him off.
"What?" Barty said, taken aback.
"Trying to be a witch? Am I not from the same 'kind'? Halfblood, I am a Halfblood witch . Quite a proud one, and a great one," Dorcas asserted.
"You're not like them, Cas, you know that," Barty insisted with an eye roll.
"Who the bloody is them, Crouch? Evans? She's at the top of her class, the brightest witch of our generation, she's my friend," Dorcas countered.
"The Evans mudblood girl is a pathetic excuse for a human. You deserve better friends, Cas, you have better friends" Barty sneered.
"What, like you? I think not. Disgusting pigs is what you are. Do not call me Cas. Do not call us friends. You two are nothing to me, I hope you rot," Dorcas declared, her tone filled with disgust and pure rage. She left the common room in heavy strides, not looking back and closing the door with violent force.
Silence filled the common room, the three boys now alone.
After a while, Evan clicked his tongue dismissively. "Girls," he muttered, then turned to the next page of his book.
Regulus pretended to be invisible for a while longer.
–
Dorcas still talked to Regulus, which he was very thankful for. With Pandora distant and Barty and Evan being… extra, Regulus feared being more isolated than he already was.
But Dorcas unknowingly remained with him. In that moment, he couldn't have been more grateful for her friendship, even if deep down the guilt of being the very thing she hated most behind her back consumed his being.
Pandora and Dorcas have always been his best friends. Barty and Evan were great, at least at some point they were, but they were just very different from Regulus. Pandora and Dorcas were admirable, they were so different but in the end, they were admired by Regulus in the same ways.
Their strength, fierceness, always brave, and unafraid to step their foot down. Never losing their reason, always mature and well composed. The three of them had always fit with one another, Regulus did not know how he came to have these two incredible girls as friends.
They were two sides of the best examples of humanity and with each day he feared the moment they would leave his life. Because they would, Pandora was already leaving in a way, and when Dorcas found out the truth about his allegiance there would be no explanation that would spare him. It would be ugly.
And, of course, it came much earlier than he had wished.
The end of April came quickly with much rain to accompany it. Barty and Evan had detention for who knows what and so Regulus and Dorcas decided to study in his and Evan’s dorm for more privacy. Dorcas had questioned him about Pandora once or twice in the past month or so, but he guessed his mask slipped and by his expression or lack of response, she decided against bringing the topic up so soon.
"I am being completely serious right now," she said, her tone playful but her eyes glinting with mischief, "you've been so shite at Quidditch this term, mate. Get yourself together, or I will." She chuckled at her own mock threat, the conversation had long since veered away from their intended study session as Dorcas rummaged through the dorm.
"Better you than Vanity," Regulus quipped with a smirk of his own where he sat on his bed, "she's a bit too fanatical, isn't she?"
Dorcas snorted. "You haven't seen true fanaticism if you think Emma's bad, Reg. Now, Potter? Completely insane, that guy. I’ve never been tired of Quidditch before, and then I had one chat about it with James, and I couldn’t touch a broom for weeks ." She laughed at the memory, kicking around some papers scattered on the floor. "Jeez, Reg, I never took you for one to leave papers and scraps lying around." Leaning down to sift through the papers, she continued to chide him about organization and his poor Quidditch performance, not seeming to observe Regulus’ bitterness about her previous comment.
James Potter was right up there with Sirius when it came to people Regulus despised. Had he and Potter ever exchanged more than maybe three words? No, but that was hardly a valid point for his disdain.
The boy was Sirius' soulmate, which already said a lot. He seemed to crave the same attention and spotlight Sirius did. He was loud, overbearing, and extremely irritating. And this wasn't even Regulus being his not too lovely self; he'd noticed how some other students, especially Evans from his own year, seemed to similarly despise Potter.
Potter might not be a bully, not anymore at least, and the Evans girl seemed less hateful of him if it mattered, but he embodied everything Regulus detested in a person. And, of course, he was exactly who Sirius chose as family— his polar opposite. Someone who he could never be like.
How ironic.
Dorcas was still kneeling hidden by his vision near the bed foot, occupied by the pile of notes Regulus had apparently left on the ground at some point. But her sudden quietness perturbed him, so he straightened to look down at her.
"Everything alright? If you found anything disgusting, I can assure you it's Evan's," Regulus said, genuinely disgusted by the thought of Evan hiding something inappropriate and that Dorcas had unfortunately stumbled upon it. He had heard a few too many weird talks between him and Barty about girls and whatnot.
But Dorcas kept quiet, she was right on top of the said scattered papers, most were old school notes that Regulus’ was probably studying and forgot about by his bed. But Dorcas’ eyes scanned a piece of paper in her hands, her face a neutral serious that made Regulus’ stomach squirm. He had a feeling that was not an old annotation, even if his brain could think of none else that it could be to catch her attention.
“Dorcas?”, he tried, “Uh, alright? What’s that, I thought I only had old notes in there.” he was careful about it, trying to ease his way.
Dorcas blinked and looked at him, for a moment her eyes were fierce but it soon melted away. She gave him a smirk and waved the letter in her hand dismissively. "Sorry, got lost in thought," she said with a smile. "Oh, this?" She raised the paper. , “Nah it’s nothing, It’s Narcissa’s letter that you received earlier in the year, didn’t mean to snoop but only realized by the end of it. She is very sweet isn’t she?” She flashed him a teasing grin as he flushed with embarrassment, recalling his cousin's affectionate words.
"Oh, come on," he huffed, feeling the need to defend his dignity. "She's a bit too worried at times. We don't meet much, and she gets upset by it." He rambled on, trying to downplay Narcissa's concern. Dorcas snorted and continued rearranging the papers.
Her smile was tighter the rest of the afternoon, but Regulus didn’t point it out. The mark itched.
–
"Urgh, can you believe old Binns asked me to go grab him a book from the 6th floor ?" Dorcas complained, her frustration evident in her tone. "I'm sure the bastard forgot it there in the 1800s." She sighed and toyed with her braids. "Come with me, will you, Regulus? I'm bored out of my mind, and the walk there is tedious already."
Regulus chuckled at her grumbles and agreed to accompany her to the 6th floor to retrieve the book. Dorcas mentioned that Binns told her it would be in one of the old classrooms that were no longer in use, which fueled her theory of him forgetting it there in the past century.
Regulus laughed at her comments, but after a moment of silence, she had an abrupt change of topic.
“So,” she started nonchalantly, checking her nails as they walked, “Crouch and Rosier have been quite obtuse in the last many months,” her black eyes slid to his face, “you got any insight into that?”
Regulus chokes at the sudden subject, but entertains smoothly, “Ah well, Barty and Evan have always been quite… loud. They’ve always been not too ordinary either, they enjoy being contradicting and well, making people mad. So I think they are being quite the usual, maybe a bit more extra,” he says, looking Cas in the eyes. Her stoic expression did not tremble.
“Mhm, yes, they were always reckless kids.” she mumbles, “But recklessness and loudness are quite stretched from purist and tyrannical aren’t they?” They keep walking, her eyes now scanning the classroom doors. “I will be honest to you, I naively did not see this coming. Never thought I would see Crouch and Rosier walk along with Avery, Snape , those ones. Didn’t think they would be on that page. Foolish of me.” She sighs and stops by an old door, opens it, and signs for Regulus to step in first.
Regulus gulped, noticing the seriousness in Dorcas's eyes as they caught the golden hour sunlight streaming through the classroom window.
Before Dorcas even entered the classroom and closed the door behind her, he knew that Binns hadn't asked for any book.
A silent understanding washed over the old abandoned classroom. The sun bathed the room in a golden glow, offering a beautiful view of part of the castle and a stretch of the lake.
"So," Dorcas's voice broke the silence from behind him, grounded and low. "How long have you been a Death Eater, Regulus?"
And the air left his lungs as something in him cracked further.
With nothing else to lose or hide, he turns to face her, the orange light shined on Dorcas’ black eyes and long dark braids. Her posture is immaculate with her hands politely by her front. Her chin is raised and she seems much taller, as if looking down on him. That sole gaze sends a shiver down Regulus’ spine.
Keeping his own posture and face untouched he answers in neutrality, “I am not sure what you mean, Dorcas.”
In further thought it was quite a foolish comeback. Because clearly Dorcas, as he feared, had found out about his allegiances. She's always been wickedly wise and observant, not one to confront on mere speculation. If she brought him all this way and broached the topic so directly and coldly, she must be certain.
She knew .
The realisation sends a wave of unease through Regulus as Dorcas laughs low and coldly at his response.
"I didn’t expect denial to be your answer, Regulus. You're cleverer than that, but I guess I do not know you too well do I?" she remarks, taking a step closer, narrowing the distance between them. "Does my presence make you nervous, Black?" Her voice is low and probing.
Regulus breathes, and keeps his grey eyes fixed on hers responding evenly, "I hold no ill will towards you, Meadows."
Her laughter now carries a touch of sincerity, albeit morbid. "Oh, sure thing. Is that why you branded your arm with the mark of the same maniac that wishes to abdicate all those like me?” Her face smoothly exhibits a now mock of a smile, as if it is all so absurd that she can’t help but laugh.
Regulus breathes, but does not answer.
Dorcas' words cut through the following heavy silence "I've never been an optimist," she begins, her tone tinged with resignation. "Pandora always tried to infuse her bright demeanour into me, unsuccessfully, obviously. So I have to admit that my ideas didn't stem from optimism but pure naivety, of which I am ashamed.”
“I truly believed I had found those who were meant for me. The missing pieces of my very soul, because isn't that what friendship is? The parts of humanity that complete you, the hands you hold in assurance, the hugs you give in pure love for another, the words and conversations that range from mundane to life-changing. I believe friendship to be the single most valuable connection in life, a bond between different souls. But I also see how naive these thoughts can be. I see that people grow and change, and I see that some people are simply not worth it."
Such heavy spoken words were delivered with meaning but through a piercing, unmoving stare that seemed to go right through Regulus’ eyes, which shook in tentative of maintaining contact with the other pair. And so she continued;
"I wish someone would've taught me this," she says, her voice tinged with a hint of bitterness, “as so to spare the pain filled and lonely path that is understanding that people fucking suck. That humans are the least humane creatures to have ever opened their eyes and lived.”
“You cannot turn friends into safety, because they are human. And humans are ever-changing. Flowing rivers that will disappear with everything you share within them. Because in the end is each for their own. Safety has a heartbeat, not of others but your own. And it is the only one that should be cared for and matter.”
Regulus stood before Dorcas, his demeanour serious and his face a mask of blank composure as he felt the weight of her words like a physical jinx. With a dry swallow he says;
“It was never supposed to be an act of disloyalty towards our friendship. You must understand what I had at stake-”
Dorcas scoffed, her disdain palpable. "Is that what you call it? Selling your soul to appease a pack of bigots? Aligning yourself with darkness out of fear and cowardice? Stakes? Opportunity?"
"No, I call it survival," he insisted, his voice tight with conviction and jaw clenched. "Loyalty to my family and name. I did what I had to. The path was laid, and I crossed it orderly. I made all my choices with calculation and thought behind every step so that the final result would be the most idealistic–"
Dorcas laughs in mockery once more; "Survival at what cost, Regulus?" Her voice echoed off the walls of the empty classroom, with pure strength, dripping like warm blood. "At the cost of your humanity? Your integrity? Is it worth it, to betray everything, all for the sake of a name? Ridiculous." She spat.
“This is much bigger than you or me Dorcas.” An almost unnoticeable tremble escaped on emphasis. But Dorcas just stared. She breathed and looked deep into his eyes as if searching for exits and justifications. Was she searching for his savings? Or his downfall?
But she could not reach him, and her eyes seemed almost sad for a flicker. Disappointed. If on him or for him, he could not read.
“Do you honestly think so little of me?” her whisper was hoarse but still angry. But this line seemed almost sad. Mournful. “Have you always?”
Regulus’ breath catches. He knows what she meant, he knows. But the thought of thinking little of Dorcas Meadows came so raw that any explanation for it escaped leaving his brain agape;
“What..” he mumbles before losing word.
“You think of me as so meaningless as to not cross your mind when taking your “calculated steps”. So you do think little of me, of us, of anyone but yourself centred merits.” She expresses coldly, “You did not think of the entirety of billions of existing Muggles, Muggleborns, Halfbloods, Squibs that maniac’s entire cause is in favour of stripping from the earth. Am I as meaningless as the corpses that were gruesomely murdered and pictured in the news? I wonder if that’s how you think of everyone besides you; meaningless .”
Silence stretches once again, but much much heavier than before. The sun was practically gone leaving the too old room in an almost complete darkness. The tension was so gruesome that Regulus found it hard to breathe as if there was no oxygen left in the air.
“And for that,” Dorcas’ voice echoes again, “I offer you my sincere appreciation, Regulus Black.”
Too short too little coming gulps of air were still in a battle to enter his lungs as Dorcas stepped much closer, they stopped eye to eye, nose to nose, both pairs of eyes in deep stare one dripping in fury the other static in staleness. Both bodies trembled. With a subtle tilt of the head Dorcas spoke, in almost a strong whisper;
“Caring and loving another is the most dangerous thing one can do for oneself, it is a selfless and foolish act that will hurt. Always.”
“And you, are the coldest most calculated selfish person I have ever met.”
And something else cracked.
“You do not trust or care, you follow and bow and it works, doesn’t it? You are alive, you are powerful.”
“Are you happy Black?”
“Is it everything you ever dreamed?”
“Was it worth it?”
And as both of them stared at one another, a very different grief to the one from Pandora passed through. A much bloodier and painful form of mourn. It beat his self up and left him for rotten. It wasn’t a delicate lay, a healthy distancing, a warm goodbye.
No, it was very, very cold. Like a mother’s touch.
Dorcas walked back slowly, before formerly turning and walking for the door, as she opened it she uttered her words without a last gaze;
“When the time comes for us to face in battle, I hope you realize that I will not hesitate. I hope that your death comes swiftly, before you have the misfortune of facing me again, Black ."
With a last spat of his prestigious surname and the bang of a door, Dorcas was gone, and Regulus Black couldn’t breathe.
–
The start of July arose swiftly bringing the final Quidditch game of his 6th year. Somehow, Slytherin did make it to the finals, even with his abysmal performance in all games this term.
Slytherin would face Griffindor of course. It was Potter’s and McKinnon’s last game after all. And Sirius’.
Because it was their last year. And Sirius’ last year.
Not that it mattered. He was just thinking about it because it is a fact. Because it is. A fact. That he will never see Sirius in Hogwarts again.
But they would see each other again, and if that mattered at all Regulus would care about it. Yes, because for a fact they would stumble upon each other again.
Probably in battle, on opposite sides.
Not that it mattered. It was just a fact.
Regulus had many matters to worry about, none of which were his estranged, blood-traitorous excuse for a brother.
Dorcas,, did not direct him a single look ever since that golden hour at the end of April. Not a look, not a scorn. She treated him as nothing and did not acknowledge his presence or existence at all. For her, maybe Regulus had actually turned invisible. Or he was just too insignificant to see or care of.
Meaningless.
The punishment did fit the crime, that it did. Dorcas had always been clever.
Pandora gave him nods and tight smiles but, nothing beyond it. And it almost hurt more. She had been spending much time with that Hufflepuff boy she’d always gasp for air about. He wondered if they had something going on.
He wished she would tell him. Even if he did not ever care for her romances. Wished she’d tell him anything. He missed her voice.
And Dorcas walked with, well, the Gryffindors. She did not seem appalled by the complete change of social circle. Someone as wonderful as Dorcas could fit anywhere she wished to insert herself. And of course, she already had friends in Griffindor. Marlene of course, Evans, McDonald. Potter. Sirius.
And if that stung Regulus, no one would know about it. He didn’t have anyone who would look into it anyway. Not with that grounding ink on his forearm.
The mark was consistently accompanied by angry scratches as of lately. The itching was much more of a burning.
He ended up with Evan and Barty for company at the end of it all. But the more he spent by their sight the tighter he felt, and the more he missed them. He missed his friends, he missed Barty and Evan and he couldn’t do anything about it. Those kids were long gone and buried. Griefing living things was a pain no one prepared you for.
At some point, Evan’s remarks and actions grew blunt to his eyes, at some point, Barty’s tics grew mundane. At some point, Barty laughing too loudly or acting too brashly did not take him back, at some point, Evan mocking long dead corpses on the news wasn’t worth looking at the pictures.
At some point, they were Evan and Barty, but now they were Rosier and Crouch, and they would take the Dark Mark the next summer, Evan announced enthusiastically in late June.
And Regulus wished he was invisible.
–
Emma Vanity, Slytherin Quidditch captain, gave a long inspiring speech to all her players. She had always made a great leader, and that was her last game too, which she made very clear to highlight.
Not that Regulus had listened to any of it, too lost in a fog. He had been neglecting his training, skipping practices and barely leaving his dormitory except for classes and meals. Not that he ate all that much either, it made him feel sicker.
So it is safe to say he would disappoint Vanity a whole much, her frustration evident in her voice as she speaks to him little before entering the field; "I don’t know what’s up with you, Black, but get your head out of whatever it is and play this game decently, will you? You're a good seeker, act like it!" With that, she left him to ponder her words. But as Regulus blinked, he was already in the field.
Yeah alright, maybe he should eat something or take a nap after this.
His traitor eyes found the worst eyes to lock into while hazed, as familiar blue shined into his soul. With a harsh breath, he dislocated his vision with force to the middle of the field where the captains were preparing to start the game.
He watched as Vanity and Potter crossed to shake hands, with firm grips both stood close and stoic, staring into the eyes of the other with heavy expressions.
Regulus would roll his eyes at the childish manners if, in the next second, the whistle didn’t start the game. Or if in the next it was already 30x10, he had no time to account who was winning or losing since in the next and next seconds everything was happening way too fast.
For his longer stayings when coming back, he could hear loud cheers, screams, and rapid brooms. He could hear rapid breathing and an unhinged heartbeat. He stared down at his sweating hands trembling in too much force as his grip tightened on his broom. He tried to move, look up and around, look for the snitch, look anywhere else but he was frozen and breathing was a bit too hard right now.
“Oi! Little Black!” A female voice he recognized but could not put a face to scream in front of him. It gave him enough force of reason to rapidly look at the source, still visibly shaking, he wished it not to be too obvious on a broom.
“Dude, are you like, alright?” Marlene Mckinnon held a frown, it was less in worry and more in curiosity he was very sure. He had never been necessarily nice and kind to Mckinnon, “You are like, very pale man.” she added.
He gulped, still feeling the sweat down his back and the trembles ricocheting through, he held the best neutral gaze he could possibly master in this situation and answered;
“I am quite fine.” he managed to choke out, his voice strained but steady. “Don’t you have a Snitch to catch?” he breathes out.
Marlene snorted incredulously, her disbelief evident. "Ah well, I could say the same," she retorted. "You’ve been floating in place for the last 30 minutes, staring down out of all else! Not exactly the best Seeker tactic I’ve seen." her eyes roll for a finish, “Listen, I could not care less, but you are clearly not doing too great–”
“Feeling is mutual Mckinnon,” he snapped, his tone sharper “Get out of my way and go play your last game. We are not friends, do not speak to me,” he grunts, really wishing the girl would go away before he passed out from how tense he was.
She huffs, her face now much irritated, “Alright grumpy, that’s what I get for being nice I guess,” then flies away at last.
Regulus lets out a breath he did not realize he was holding, his head becoming very light-weight with the sudden action. He blinks rapidly to make the dizziness go away and gazes at the score. 90 x 20.
Ah well, at least he can leave soon.
–
Griffindor wins, obviously.
All the red and gold swims his vision. From the cheering stands, to the flying glitter and paper, all the way down to the middle of the pitch where all the Gryffindor players hugged and screamed. Potter was over the moon, Regulus had never seen him in such ecstasy.
Then, Sirius practically launched himself into Potter's arms with sheer euphoria on his face, bringing them both to the ground. They were laughing, and hugging, and crying-
And it might be the happiest he had ever ever seen Sirius Black.
Mckinnon soon throws herself atop Sirius, squeezing him tightly, Potter hugging her frame as well in a tangle of limbs and laughter, swept up in the elation of victory.
Soon, few more people invade the pitch. Evans runs towards the centre, fully covered in golden and red decorations, her bright ginger hair floating as she runs. She screamed something and Potter who had barely gotten up went back to the ground with the force of her embrace. They both laughed, and then Evans grabbed his cheeks and gave him a hard passionate kiss. More cheers erupted, and Potter seemed close to exploding. Ah well, that added to why she didn’t seem to despise the boy anymore.
Much slower and less electric fueled Lupin and Pettigrew also approach, Pettigrew running affront to give Mckinnon a tight hug as they jumped together and chanted something along.
Sirius’ head bolted up at the sight of Lupin, and his smile could blind rooms from how wide and bright it was. He got up quickly to run to the other boy, slowing down and not tackling him like he did to Potter, but slowly stopping very closely. They exchanged very few words and looks before hugging. An almost gentle but tight embrace, as they rocked side to side, laughing along with all else, and so indescribably happy .
And the brightest star in the sky shone so brightly that it stung Regulus’ eyes.
And the brightest star in the sky had never been so so distant.
Regulus turned his gaze and flew down. As he took off his gear and took step to the gear deposit, little did he know the brightest star in the sky shined its eyes on him.
–
No word was directed at him as he slowly put his gear and broom away, even if he could feel eyes and hear whispers. And as the last Slytherin player left the room he was alone. Much after he had already packed away his gear he stood still in the room. Doing not more than staring at the floor as if deep in thought. But he couldn’t really think of anything. And like that while in the air earlier he stood hazed and breathing as time passed around.
His distance from reality was shortened by the sound of the heavy deposit doors opening and closing behind him. Keeping his eyes to the ground for a moment longer, Regulus then breathes and uses of the awakening to turn for his exit.
As he walks to the door observing his own stepping feet he unexpectedly bumps into whoever had entered beforehand, with deep annoyance by the stranger’s lack of direction he turns up his
chin to scold the other, but.
But.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Sirius did not stand much taller than him anymore, he was still taller to Regulus’ disappointment but it wasn't more than an inch or two. His crystal blue eyes looked him up and down and he asked the question bluntly and with a frown– of annoyance of course.
Regulus took some steps back at the unexpected appearance and words of the brother whom he had barely exchanged looks for the past two years. His face frowned as he answered rather strongly;
“What’s wrong with you?” voice raspy, much to his deep embarrassment. He cleans his throat before saying next, “What are you doing here? It’s the Slytherin deposits.”
Sirius rolled his eyes and scoffed in a gesture that was all too familiar, "You don't say, thank you for the alert Reggie, I hadn't noticed," Sirius retorted, his tone laced with sarcasm and much Sirius like. He stood with an air of nonchalance, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his Quidditch pants. Despite the casual stance, there was a tension in his posture that suggested he was on edge. He did not have the red-numbered shirt on anymore, leaving only the black undershirt, long sleeves pushed to his elbows. He was very much sweaty and dirty, and for some reason, in the Slytherin deposits.
Regulus's chest burned with annoyance, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Yes, well, and I hadn't noticed you changed houses," he shot back, his words dripping with venom. "What do you want , Sirius?"
Trying to control his breathing and wear a mask good enough to maintain at the moment, Regulus observed as those blue eyes that reminded him of too much travelled around his whole self before landing against his own grey pair. Their eyes gazed into each other for a moment too long, exchanging their own whispers, before Sirius spoke;
“You didn’t answer my question, that’s all I came here for so,” he tsks, “Go on” His tone was clipped, his expression unreadable.
Regulus felt a surge of frustration rising within him. "Go on? On what? What’s wrong with me? What do you even mean ?" he snapped, his voice laced with irritation.“A dizzy troll could take a single look at you and know you are a wreck, Regulus. What the fuck happened then?” Sirius rolled his eyes, and his gaze searched Regulus's face.
“Why do you care? How does it concern you??" Regulus shot back, his tone defensive. “You haven’t gazed at me in years, then suddenly search for me in a broom deposit to what ?? Mock me for doing badly at a game? What's wrong with you ??” Regulus exhales exasperated and not at all prepared to have any kind of talk with his once brother.
"I forgot how insufferable you were, Merlin," he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration as he dragged his hands across his face in usual dramatics, "Besides your rubbish performance today, not that I much care for that since, well, I won.” he grins, “Marlene told me about your little sky talk, she said you looked odd, I came to check. And yeah, there is something wrong, so what is it?” Sirius's expression softened slightly, and Regulus' eyes rolled at it.
"Oh, spare me your theatrics," he muttered under his breath, his tone dripping with disdain. “It is not of your business. Why would it concern you at all ?”
Sirius shrugged nonchalantly, his tone almost shy. “Being decent, I guess,” he muttered, shifting side to side as he escaped eye contact momentarily.
Regulus scoffed incredulously. "Oh, is it? Oh, my deepest thanks to you, Sirius Black, and your highest kindness !" he exclaimed sarcastically with a disbelieving laugh. "Is that what you want? To be praised? Feel better about yourself? What, do you need to hear it from someone from your blood for a better kick? Potter drooling praises at you getting too old, is it?"
"Don't drag James into this; stop being such a brat," Sirius snapped, his frustration evident now, his anger finally having been triggered.
He couldn't help but feel a little of his resentment towards Potter, Sirius’ chosen brother, who had become his tripping point. Of course.
Regulus scoffed, his bitterness boiling over into outright hostility. "Me? Child? Says the most immature, arrogant, show off person to ever breathe!" he retorted sharply, his words laced with venom. “I’d keep your underdeveloped thought to yourself if you wish to spare embarrassment, really.”
"Shut it, Regulus!" Sirius exploded, his anger palpable. "Why are you like this? Why are you so- so—just why? Why do you despise me so much? I didn’t do shit! I didn’t do anything! Besides, oh, I don’t know, taking care of you? During my entire childhood? Protecting you? Taking on punishments for you? And you've still always hated me! For fuck's sake!" As Sirius's words echoed in the air in dripping frustration as he articulated theatrically.
You left. You left. You left me. You left and you didn’t ask. You didn't even ask. You didn’t even try. You traded me for another and didn’t even say goodbye.
"I never asked for your protections! You didn’t do anything!? How come you are so ignorant? Always! That’s your problem, Sirius! You think you are so bright and mighty, but you are a fucking prick !" Regulus's voice reverberated with fury, his words dripping in sterical as his voice failed with the force. "You are the most reckless, foolish, immature person I have ever had the misfortune of meeting, and you do not care ! You don't! You think you’re always right and everyone else is wrong because you are oh so much better than anyone!"
Regulus' posture when fighting his brother had always been much different. He was very little when he first realized that when it came to Sirius if he wanted to be heard he had to be louder than him.
And Sirius was loud .
In contrast to the deep and hurtful nature of his confrontation with Pandora, and the frightening tension of his one with Dorcas, Regulus found himself engaged in nothing more than a screaming match with Sirius. Their argument felt shallow and childish, akin to two children squabbling over a toy rather than addressing anything at all.
Sirius's retort was equally scathing, his own rage boiling over as he shot back, "Oh, I would watch your dirty mouth! Don’t want mommy to find out, would you?” he mocks, “You are a soft little idiotic child who knows fucking nothing! About anything! Who is so naive and brainless that you let anyone tell you what to do if it benefits you? You have no gut ! You are a hollow fucking puppet! You would lick someone’s feet if instructed upon you! You do not care for anyone but yourself and your disgusting noble name!"
" Our name!” Regulus exclaims, “You are a Black! You are not and will never be any better than I am, Sirius Black! No matter how hard you try to fit yourself into another family, you were born a Black, and you will die one! Like it or not, and pretending to be the superior person you think you are will change nothing of it! If I am bad you are just as much!" Regulus's voice trembled with rage, his chest heaving with each word.
"I would rather die than be like you, Regulus. Any of you! I would rather die !" Sirius's voice cracked with emotion, his voice echoing angrily through the room.
Laced with bitterness he muttered, "And I am childish," rolling his eyes with disdain. But beneath the bravado, beneath anger and resentment, there was a pain that neither of them dared to acknowledge
A pain behind light eyes and lost childhoods, shared between souls from sons of the same mother. Between two boys who had everything to burn the world together but fired at one another instead.
After all, they were brothers.
"Yeah! You are! You still need mommy and daddy to talk you around! You follow their orders like a lost kitten, you believe every word they say because you are a spineless little boy, who is too scared to be an actual person !" Sirius' words sliced through the air, his breath coming in erratic pants as if he had just played an hours-long Quidditch match. Even though the pathetic one they had played was barely 50 minutes long.
“ Shut up! Do not speak of my family like that, do not mutter insults in my parent's names! Did you really come here to what? Shout at me one last time before ending school? Really?? How clever of you! There! You shouted! Happy? Now leave me the fuck alone !” He yells vigorously and stomps to the door.
Sirius gaped and moved to be on his way “Oh no, nope, you wo–” but he paused. And for a miracle, he stayed quiet. As if lost for words.
And Sirius Black was never ever out of words.
Confused, Regulus looked into Sirius's eyes, about to make some remark about him choking in his own tongue, but Sirius was not looking at him. Well, not his face. He was looking at his arm.
His left one.
Where the long sleeved undershirt had been slightly pulled up in consequence to the exasperated articulations of their fight, and because of that you could see a very small piece of a shamed and inked wrist. And not for the first time, Regulus cannot breathe.
He tried to walk past quickly but Sirius grabbed his wrist with a force that made him wince, bringing it closer to him as he brashly pulled the sleeve up to his elbow, leaving the ugly tinted snake in between them. His grip like a vice as he held Regulus' arm, shaking with force and staring at the mark in disbelief.
"What the fuck." Sirius' voice was barely above a whisper, filled with shock and disbelief. "What the fuck, what the fuck. What the fuck did you do ." His voice failed, as if it was too in disbelief.
But Regulus became completely unresponsive at the sight. His body shook badly, not in anger like Sirius but in fear. Which wasn’t of Sirius, he had never feared him, and he wasn’t fearing him now. But his body responded in such clear gutted fear to Sirius’ knowing . Fear of the mere scene, of Sirius and that ink being in the same field of vision. In the same room, in the same reality.
It made it much more real. And that was terrifying.
“Fucking answer me! What is this Regulus? What did they do? What did you do ?” Sirius' voice trembled with anger and desperation, his hands shaking as he released Regulus' arm. If Regulus had looked up, he would have seen the tears glistening in Sirius' eyes. " Fuck! " Sirius yelled in exasperation as he turned away, his hands gripping his hair as he struggled to compose himself.
And Regulus remained frozen in place, his arm still extended, his mind trapped like it tended to be so often.
Both brothers remained shut, each to their own reaction. Regulus stood rigid, unmoving, while Sirius paced back and forth, his hands in a frenzy, almost tearing at his hair. Both breathed heavily, the different despairs echoing in between them and the empty room.
Sirius came to a sudden halt, hands rapidly freeing the hair that had never looked so unorderly. He was turned to the side in consequence of his pacing as his voice tremored its way out his mouth.
“ Why? ”
And Regulus did not care, he did not, he was no fool. He wouldn’t crumble from past moments because they were that, past. Sirius was his past, no matter how broken his voice sounded.
No muscle moved besides his mouth which articulated; “You know why”, in a whisper. After that his arm relaxed back to his side, ink still black and proud, his face blank, eyes gazing at Sirius's shoes and his head lost in other stars.
“I thought you were different,” Sirius’ choked, he was not crying, he didn’t sound sad either. He sounded tired. Hopeless. “I–fuck I was so stupid ” he laughed incredulously “I can’t believe it-”
“Sirius–”
“ No! ” he screamed in such forceful loud anger that Regulus flinched at it, if he were to be more out of it he might’ve convinced himself it was his mother's voice,
“Don’t! Don’t you dare.” Sirius’ voice cracked, breathing erratic “I do not want to hear it, I don’t want to hear your voice.” it was shaky, but much venomous.
Regulus swallowed hard, his throat tight, but did not move or mutter another word, still looking at Sirius’ feet as he proceeded.
"Is this what you wanted?" Sirius's voice broke with desperation, his frustration evident. "The life you want to live? The person you want to be? Could you not be stronger, kinder, more compassionate? Could you? Are you capable of it and choose not to? Were you never? Was I actually that bad at it??" And it took a second to understand the last line but–no matter his thoughts, his mind was too lost on its own to defend the little Sirius who was the best big brother in the whole world.
"Is this the best you could do? Is a monster the best thing you could be? Are you happy? Are you actually happy?" Sirius's voice quivered with desperation, the weight of his words hanging in the air like a thick fog. It was a plea, a cry desperate alike nothing Regulus had ever heard Sirius sound.
Not even that frigid Winter when Sirius was 12 and his father dragged him to his office had he sounded this desperate. Not even as he pleaded against the sounds of whips from a heavy belt had his voice carried such anguish. Not even when he had hugged little Regulus after, not even when it was the first and only time Regulus saw his big brother cry, had Sirius sounded this desperate.
And in a long while, Regulus looked up, meeting Sirius' gaze with haunted eyes. But still, he remained silent, unable to answer the questions that tore at his soul.
For in that moment, he didn't know if he was capable of being anything else.
Sirius gritted his teeth, his whole body trembling with anger as tears–of pure frustrated hatred welled in his eyes. “You are no brother of mine," he whispered, "The biggest disgust of my life is ever having been related to you and those pigs you call family in any way.” his voice laced with bold poison that made Regulus flinch again, but the reaction did not change Sirius's demeanour one bit.
“If I ever see you with your hideous mark again I will kill you Regulus, I will fucking kill you .” the words are said in such strength and honesty that it might as well have been an Unbreakable Vow. After those cursed words Sirius turns, opens the door, and leaves.
Regulus doesn’t remember much after that. The next time he could breathe he was at the train and he would never ever again cross paths with Sirius within the castle's walls.
And the chilling whisper of fate hinted that the next time they did encounter, it would end with his blood dripping from his brother’s hands.
–
He had been home for a day when Regulus entered the quiet room, finding his mother seated in her usual spot, posture impeccable, and her attention fixed on the pages of a book. Always untouchable and unmovable. With a trembling breath, Regulus takes the courage to go further and closer to her. Heartbeat numbing his ears as he stood by her form shakily before saying,
“Mother?” he gulps out.
She doesn't alter her posture or glance away from her reading. “Yes, Regulus?” Her response is curt, so cold he could shiver.
Regulus steadies his shaking breath, trying to mask his nerves, “May I ask you something?”
The room seems to hold its breath, waiting for his mother's response. After a moment, she responds without moving her eyes to him, “You may.” she says curtly and then turns a page.
He doesn’t know why he is doing this. It's ridiculous and deeply embarrassing. But it felt he had never had to know something so much in his life, that the fact that it was supposedly obvious wasn’t enough anymore, he had to hear it. He had to know.
“…Do you love me?”
And the silence was loud.
Everything froze in time as his mouth closed after his words. His mother’s hand paused in action to turn the next page, her face numb and empty flashed– something, as her eyes moved a slight bulging motion of,, surprise? He’d guess, before going back to static. His body froze, his breathing, his heart.
And the room was suddenly far too cold for a summer evening.
Finally, she closes the book and looks up slowly, her movements impeccable and noble. Meeting his shaky grey eyes, her own black ones are empty, devoid of a soul. Had they ever had one? He remembers his mother being lovable before, but it was so long back that he now questions if it was real at all.
“You are far too old to be asking such foolish questions, Regulus. You are no child.” is what she says, tone harsh in judgment.
Regulus feels a sharp pang of desperation, "Please," the word choked, "I just–do- do you?" His plea hangs in the air, his voice trembling along with the rest of his body, consumed by uncertainty and longing. He had never acted so inadequately in front of his mother, not even as a little boy. The weight of fear, longing, and indescribable pain presses upon his shoulders.
“I do not answer to meaningless questions,” she says with her harsh strong tone, face contorting in starting anger “You may leave now-”
“Did you love Sirius?”
The question is so sudden and bold that he flinches. His breath stops as he realizes what he just said and he can feel the blood drop from his face.
No one had mentioned Sirius’ name or existence in the last two years. He still remembers watching his mother’s usual void eyes glass over with water that day, face blank as the tears threatened her before she turned to her room. Was it sadness? Was it anger? He did not know, but he longed to. She hadn’t left her room for a week after Sirius left, and father burnt his name off.
A terrible heavy pause extended as Regulus trembled in honest deep fear and his mother’s face dripped in poisoned fury.
“Do not .” comes out in pure rage “ Ever mention that disgraced name inside this house. ” her voice strong and echoing through his ears, bringing back that disgraced cold chill “You know better!”
“I–I just-” His voice falters, fear tightening his throat.
“Not a word. Go to your room. Now .” Her command is sharp and final, leaving no space for argument. “I will grant you the opportunity for the last time, if you do not take it I assure you will be very regretful.”
“But–”
“Now! ” Her scream is so fierce he stumbles out of the room in the same instant without even realizing it.
When he next comes to his senses, he finds himself back in his room, standing rigidly in the centre, trembling uncontrollably. His breath comes in rapid gasps, making him feel lightheaded.
And then, he sobs.
He cries in silence, the tears streaming down his face until his knees buckle, and he collapses onto the floor, his sobs becoming more forceful with each passing moment. It feels as though a dam has burst inside him, unleashing a fall of emotion he's kept bottled up for far too long.
For the first time in his life, he's confronted with the painful reality of not knowing anything. For the first time in his life, his naivety flashes in front of his eyes, because he really was just a child who did not know anything. And not knowing if his own mother even loves him is the breaking point.
Because it should be obvious, an unquestionable truth. Shouldn't it? Mothers love their sons, some more harshly, some more kindly, but they all do. Right?
Right?
Then why did he not know if she did? Why was the possibility of her not so true and raw? If she didn’t, had she ever?
He presses his forehead to the ground, his hands muffling his cries as he tries to contain the overwhelming anguish within him. His body trembles so violently that it threatens to knock him off balance. He'd never experienced such excruciating pain before. He feels utterly lost, desperate . He didn’t know what to do.
It was a warm summer in 1978, Regulus Black was 16 when he realized he was wrong.
He had been wrong all this time.
All his plans, all his calculations, were wrong. Every careful step he'd taken in his life had led him astray. And now, he was desperate. And he was lost. And he was so utterly alone.
Losing Pandora and Dorcas wasn’t worth this. Far from it, it wasn’t worth anything. He longed for their presence so deeply that it hurt. He mourned how frail he was without them, he grieved their absence as much as he did when burying Barty and Evan as a past that wasn’t coming back. Regulus was never one to romanticize friendships, never much onto putting them on a pedestal. But he got it now, he understood that friends are connections of the soul and that without them, who are you really?
Oh, and how it hurt to lose part of your soul.
He's adrift in sea, and he doesn't know how to find his way back to shore. And he did not know how to stop it all. He did not know how to keep going, or what to do next. He didn’t. He didn’t. He didn’t–
Being pure didn’t save him.
Being obedient didn’t save him.
He did everything perfectly, and it did not save him.
His brain was in turmoil as if questioning all thoughts and choices stormed beneath, and it was killing him. It hurt, it hurt so badly. And then,
And then Sirius flashed into his mind, and he could scream.
He hated him, he hated him, he hated him so badly.
And he missed him.
He missed his brother with a ferocity that left him gasping for air, the weight of it crushing him until he stumbled to the bathroom and emptied his stomach of dinner. It was too much, all of it was too much. What had he done? What had he done?
Sirius was right, and Regulus couldn't believe his own thoughts. His foolish, reckless, blood traitorous brother was right. And now he was sobbing on the bathroom floor, throat burning with acid, a hideous mark staring back at him as a reminder of all his actions. His nails dug into his forearm harshly, the skin was almost raw from scratching and yet the ink still mocked him.
It was the glaring consequence of his bright path, his coldly thought of choices. The reminder that he caused this upon himself, that even after considering and calculating every move his whole life he still got it wrong.
For Regulus, the notion of fighting back against their parents' authority seemed not only futile but foolhardy. He couldn't fathom Sirius's penchant for defiance, his willingness to speak out against injustice despite the inevitable repercussions. To Regulus, it was a perplexing paradox—why risk pain and punishment when compliance promised safety and security?
But in the end, did he comply to an empty promise?
He wanted Sirius to know, understand, to see in and out of him, to feel how it felt under his skin. He wanted him to know, but he couldn't tell him. He couldn’t, he was never brave enough.
A coward.
Perhaps if Sirius understood, if he knew Regulus's thoughts at a crucial moment, he wouldn't have left without a word that day, as if Regulus was not worth his goodbye, as if he was too lost to be brung back.
Sometimes Regulus wondered if, in the end, Sirius had done it because he did not love him.
But that made the least sense of all.
Sirius wasn’t one to ignore those of no importance to him. Perhaps it is a flaw, but Sirius hates loudly, much like everything else he does. He screams, jinxes, and pranks. He rebels. He disobeys and defies. If Sirius didn't care, he would've searched for him that night, banging at his door and hurling his last insults. But he hadn't.
Knowing his brother loved him hurt much more than knowing his mother might not.
Time passed, though Regulus wasn't sure how much. It might have been only a few minutes, or perhaps several hours. His mind wandered so far that he became numb, unable to process any of his thoughts. At some point, he got up from the bathroom's tiled floor, arm raw and bleeding lightly after excessive scratching from bitten nails. Regulus did his best to avoid the mirror.
Too many outside parts of himself reminded of Sirius and it was not fair.
Going back into his room, was all too suffocating. He needed air, he needed to breathe. As he scrambled to the side table and opened the first cabinet, his hands trembled above his wand. He couldn’t do magic out of school, it was a ridiculous weapon to have on his hands, so he moved to the small silver dagger Bella had gifted him when he turned 15. He had no knowledge of how to properly use it, but it was probably simple enough, and better than a stick.
He was wearing long black pants, black shoes and a white button-up, after grabbing the first black robe in his sight and putting the dagger in one of its pockets Regulus carefully opened his bedroom door.
With trembling, calculated steps, he made his way through the haunted house, eyes down to his feet as to watch for creaky floors and not gaze at anything else that might shake his vulnerable state. Eventually, he reaches the front door and slips out into the dark streets. The night air is fresh and it does help, he thinks.
By the faint light and position of the moon above, it was little past midnight. He walked through the night breeze until reaching a patch of grass near an empty children's playground. Regulus lay under the black skies and watched his family shine above. But his eyes had all its focus on the brightest of them.
Sirius had always loved the stars, he wondered if he still did.
Or if the tragedy of despising all their names ruined that too.
One of the many tragedies of growing is the knowledge that you'll one day run out of new feelings. That one day, someday, there will be nothing to feel for the first time ever. Sad it is you only get a finite of those moments, for then to spend the rest of your life turning them over inside your head.
Maybe that was why Sirius was so inescapable. Maybe that's why Regulus' heart held onto his brightness for so long. Because he desperately missed that feeling, he missed Sirius' love. It wasn't a sweet, kind, and delicate kind of love. It was full of emotion and strong, it was strong and hurtful and sometimes it didn't seem like love at all.
But it was Sirius, it was him all of it was him. And he missed it, Merlin how he missed him. How he hated himself for missing him.
With time, Sirius roamed the cosmos, carving out his own destiny and embracing the freedom he had longed for. And Regulus remained. The lionheart had never been as brave as the brightest star. Not even close. And now it lived inside this self caused tragedy.
And Regulus was so tired of living a tragedy.
The darkness of the night seemed to press down on him, suffocating him with its oppressive presence. He hated this, he hated being desperate, he hated being wrong, he hated being a tragedy–-and he hated, and it hurt, and it was hard to breathe and think, it was all too much and too little, what even was he to do? How was he to continue? How was he to plan more wrong steps? How was he to keep walking a cracking path?
His heart raced erratically in his chest, each beat echoing loudly in his ears. His breaths came in short, shallow gasps like he was trying to suck in air through a straw. He clutched at his chest, feeling like his heart might burst from the strain. And just like that, the fresh night breeze wasn't helping anymore.
His wrist itched fiercely, a relentless itch that seemed to crawl beneath his skin. Scratching at it aggressively, his nails digging into his flesh. But the itching only intensified, spreading like wildfire across his entire body. It wasn't itching it was burning, and it burnt so fiercely that cutting his arm off might've been a least agonizing end.
He tried to calm himself, to slow his racing heart and steady his breaths. But the panic only seemed to tighten its grip on him, squeezing him until he felt like he might shatter. He wanted to scream, but his voice caught in his throat, choked by overwhelming despair. The only sound in the almost early morning air was harboured breathing and choked gasps.
Regulus felt like he was breaking apart, the tears and stuffiness assisting the illusion of drowning. His vision was blurry, but the stars still shone through his watered eyes, mocking him with their brilliance.
And then, as Sirius shone bright, he felt the cold glint of metal. Coughing and blinking rapidly, Regulus' eyes focused on the silver shine against the grass. The silver dagger. It had slipped his clothes' pocket amid the chaos.
And as the stars reflected upon it, he had an urge. His brain was far from coherent and his thoughts away from sensible. So all he had was feeling. And all he felt was agony, and all he saw was an escape.
So he got to his knees far too quickly, getting black dots from the movement but grabbing the handle with a trembling right hand and bringing it to his left wrist.
It was scratched and bloody, raw, and it burned.
It burned and it burned, it burned, it burned and he needed it out. He needed to escape it, he needed to change it, he had to get rid of it.
And when he trembly scraped a surface of the ink,
it didn't burn.