Chapter Text
It is dinnertime at the Great Hall. Regulus gazes into his mashed potatoes without a thought in his mind. His housemates chatter around him. Regulus hears their words but they do not make much sense. They go into one ear and out the other.
He sits with his back straight even if he feels like slouching. His chin is raised and his hands are delicately in his lap. He has forgotten to charm his face so he must wear his dark circles with pride. It’s what Mother would want him to do. The mashed potatoes impossibly pulse in front of his eyes. Yet, Regulus does not take his eyes off of it. He should start eating like everybody else, he knows. But he’s too drained. This is his little break before getting ready for his evening studies.
Regulus received a letter today. It was from Mother. The Black insignia plastered on the front of the letter surprised him. Father and Mother rarely communicate through letters. With his quivering fingers he calmly tore apart the envelope. It was an update on the Dark organisation and Regulus’ imminent membership.
It’s going to happen soon.
Mother’s curved g’s and dotted i’s tightened something inside Regulus. They made his stomach roll restlessly and his throat narrow. It made his legs feel weak as he descended the Owlery. Now something is bubbling in his stomach and trying to make its way out of his throat. Regulus takes controlled breaths to quench whatever it is.
He doesn't like this feeling. Like something bad will happen.
He finally tears his eyes off of the plate and surreptitiously glances around. Mulciber’s ugly mug stares shamelessly at him. His thick eyebrows have merged into one as he frowns. Regulus lets out a nervous chuckle. Mulciber frowns deeper and then seems to decide to let Regulus be. He turns to his own plate and starts shovelling food into his mouth. Regulus is not known for his social skills, perhaps it was not out of character.
Fearing observations of his drifting getting back to Mother again, Regulus delicately picks up his knife and fork. She didn’t like that some people thought he was crazy or incredibly daft. He’d have to agree.
Though at the moment Regulus does not feel like he’s quite himself. He feels as though if someone was to say something to him right now, he would either hysterically babbling or collapse in on himself. He’s slowly simmering and a stray spark will make him boil over. He’s dealing with it by pretending he’s not affected. It works sometimes. He needs it to work this time too.
Regulus quietly eats his dinner and tries not to think of the future.
-*-*-*-*-*-
Mulciber smirks at Regulus in the Common room before breakfast. It catches him off guard. Before Regulus can question the boy, he leaves with Greengrass in tow. Regulus stands in the Common room feeling like someone’s playing a prank on him. Everything feels surreal.
He makes his way out the dorms and makes sure his mind is empty. It can’t be clear, it can only be empty. Think of nothing and feel nothing. That way life doesn’t feel so real. Things just happen and you have to let them be.
Some Hufflepuff first-years run past Regulus with laughter echoing off the walls. Their short legs can barely keep up with their speed. Regulus wonders what it would feel like. Running and laughing. What would it be like to experience such simple joy? No matter how clearly Regulus sees and tries to understand life, he can’t quite touch it. It’s as if there’s a thin sheet of glass between him and it. Who built that window? Regulus would like to shatter it but takes too much effort to look for something to smash it with.
Maybe he can be content with just watching. It’s no good making big waves.
The thought strangely makes his chest feel heavy.
-*-*-*-*-
Regulus likes being in the library. There he can pick up a book and find a nice corner to lavish in. It’s a different story whether he’s actually reading the book or simply staring through it. It’s nice and relaxing. He doesn’t have to worry about other people staring at him or thinking him weird. He has slotted staring at nothing into his carefully planned schedule. He can’t help it, Regulus likes planning things ahead.
Sometimes, he gets a little carried away and forgets to check the time once in a while. During those times Mrs. Pince gently shakes his shoulder and gives what she considers a smile. It’s more of a frown, really. Regulus then sincerely thanks her and gathers his things.
It’s a system that works and one that Regulus is infinitely grateful for.
Now he sits in McGonagall’s class and wishes he was in the library instead. He can tell she’s going to lecture him soon. Regulus summons all of his willpower and follows her moving chalk. He concentrates so much on the blackboard that he forgets to listen to her speak. Regulus embarrassingly clears his throat when he sees McGonagall standing next to his desk with an unimpressed look on her face.
‘’Sorry, Professor’’ he says. Regulus pins his disapproving gaze at Mulciber who did not warn him. The boy is also unimpressed.
Regulus sometimes wonders why Mulciber seems insistent on following Regulus around. He must know that even if he’s a Black he’s not particularly favoured nor well respected. It’s laughable how little impact he has on things around here. He should be the one leading these buffoons.
Yet, he is virtually thought of as a bit of an outsider. Definitely not a befitting heir now that Sirius has decided to abandon the idea. Mother is pressuring him to start leading the Slytherin circus more and more.
Regulus can’t help but feel awkward ordering people around. They hear his bumbling orders, look at him with blinking eyes and then reluctantly do it. Regulus always ends up being embarrassed by the ordeal, so he avoids doing it altogether.
Despite his many failings, Mulciber has still decided to stick with Regulus. Perhaps an unwise decision considering what’s coming.
Narcissa has told Regulus that it’s beneficial to gather allies during his school years. Maybe Mulciber could become one. Regulus tucks the thought into his pocket.
‘’You don’t seem to be paying attention, Mr. Black. Is the lesson not interesting enough for you?’’ McGonagall asks, a dangerous undertone in her voice.
The excuses come out like old friends. ‘’I’m sorry, Professor. I just didn’t sleep well last night’’ he says politely, just like he was taught.
‘’I won’t have you nodding off in my classroom. Off to the dorms you go’’ she cruelly says. It doesn’t feel fair that he has to be punished this way. Regulus really tried his best to follow the lesson.
In the safety of his mind Regulus childishly tells her to go stuff it. As he leaves the classroom with his satchel in hand he notices the infamous Gryffindor dozer, Henderson, blowing snot bubbles. Regulus grips his bag a little tighter. How typical of McGonagall. Uncomfortably and a bit embarrassingly, Regulus feels like he’s been rejected. He doesn’t like it.
‘’Oh, and do drop by the infirmary on the way. You look like Death, Mr. Black.’’ McGonagall lightly adds, perhaps hoping to be kind. It burns Regulus and makes him feel ashamed. She gave ammunition for every Slytherin in his year and it’s going to rain down on him later. Mother will hear about this.
Giving McGonagall a mild glare, Regulus exits the classroom.
He doesn’t go to the infirmary but instead his dorm. He petulantly throws his bag onto his bed and marches to the school’s grounds.
He ignores the few students on their free period and gravitates to the big open field near the Whomping Willow. There he breathes more freely.
Hoping to catch the last warm rays of sunlight, he summons a blanket to lay on. Even though it is not incredibly complex magic, Regulus feels proud of summoning such a big piece of cloth. The thought is a bit pathetic. No, incredibly pathetic. Many heirs, like Lucius, are out there serving the Dark Lord and using complex Dark magic to fight for wizards. And here is Regulus feeling proud of a stupid patterned picnic blanket.
He sighs quietly and lays himself on his feeble accomplishment. A warming charm takes away the uncomfortably cold breeze and his eyes automatically close. Regulus knows it’s unadvisable and dangerous to leave himself so unguarded. Maybe if someone attacked him he could take a little break from school.
Feeling like a cat under the Sun, Regulus naps.
-*-*-*-*-*-
His ran out warming charm eventually wakes him up. Groggily, Regulus tears another blanket off of him. Which sentimental idiot decided to drown him in blankets? The setting Sun uncomfortably shines straight into his eyes. Regulus has to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness.
‘’Tempus’’ he checks with a little panic. The clock tells him it is already dinner time. He missed the rest of his classes. That is not good news at all. Empowered by panic, Regulus makes it to the Great Hall in record time. With pink cheeks he crawls to Mulciber’s side.
‘’Where’d you disappear to?’’ he asks, setting his chicken drumstick back on his plate.
‘’Uhh, I took a nap that took a little long’’ Regulus says, embarrassed.
Why is he even telling the truth? He could’ve just lied. Regulus is not the brightest Lumos at times.
‘’For four hours? Well, maybe now you won’t look quite as a panda’’ Mulciber quips. Regulus simply sighs. He can’t even get a Mulciber to respect him, Mother would be scandalised.
‘’I simply took McGonagall’s advice and treated my unwell mind’’ Regulus says and decides to not care about it. It is highly unlikely Slughorn will mind.
Now that the panic is gone, so is his energy. ‘’Is it just me or does this place get more stifling every year?’’ he sighs. Avery materialises out of thin air and pats Regulus’ back. ‘’I’m sure the first-years will stop their enthusiasm soon! They’re going to realise that life isn’t that much fun here’’ he says, irritatedly joyful.
Avery is an odd fellow. A seventh year that makes the younger Slytherins’ business his business. He is almost always joyful but weirdly fatalistic. He’ll declare to first years that the first year is as good as it gets, but somehow makes it sound like a good thing.
He also hangs around lower people like Snape and gathers a lot of attention with his handsomeness. Regulus can not understand Avery and his quirks. He’d surely be at the top ranks of Slytherin if he got rid of the half-blood, but he strangely lets the blob of darkness linger by.
‘’Black, I heard you were thrown out of McGonagall’s class. What’d you do?’’ Avery asks with a smile. Regulus rolls his eyes. His classmates are such gossips.
‘’I apparently wasn’t paying enough attention.’’
‘’He was paying too much attention. So much in fact that he didn’t notice the bat looking down at him’’ Mulciber snickers. Avery lets out a breath and sits down next to Regulus.
Avery simply smiles at Regulus and gently takes his hand. It’s times like these that Avery scares him ‘’We wouldn’t want that to happen again, right?’’ The boy’s face is half casted in shadows and seems entirely too fake. Regulus' hands start sweating uncomfortably.
‘’N-no, I wouldn’t’’ Regulus slightly stutters, his tongue feeling loose. Avery then cocks his head and the shadows disappear. There’s nothing scary about him anymore. Avery gives his hand a final squeeze and joins the awaiting Snape. As Snape turns away his eyes betray a hint of nervousness. Regulus can relate.
He’s getting stepped over, as a Black.
Regulus has officially lost his appetite and decides to leave the hall.
-*-*-*-*-*-
It’s like there’s a dementor in the Slytherin dorms. It’s cold and empty.
The common room’s sofa is soft, packed with high quality velvet green pillows. He wishes he could melt into a puddle and fuse with the furniture. But he can’t, such are the limitations of the body.
Well, technically he could be melted very painfully, but it doesn’t sound like much fun. He’d like to do it painlessly. He’d like to blur into the masses. But the Black surname doesn’t allow it, his Mother won’t allow it.
Her presence stifles him. Like a shoe stepping on an ant. Why would the human apologise to the ant for stepping on it? It’s natural, it happens.
Regulus is sure he’s an ant. He’s already stepped on by Avery and Mulciber. Promptly forgotten, maybe never even noticed. The thought is depressing but very real. What is his future going to look like?
The future he doesn’t want to face. He doesn’t want to graduate, go to fancy parties, marry or have nice pureblooded kids. He just wants to exist for a little while, just for a moment and eventually fade.
Regulus doesn’t want to do much. It’s nice to just exist. He’d rather just live his life in peace, away from people that expect things of him. It is tiring to even stand up straight, servitude to the Dark Lord is sure to suck him dry.
Surely Mother wouldn’t mind too much if he takes one sick day.
-*-*-*-*-*-
Once Regulus sank into his bed, he couldn't crawl out of it any longer. It’s so hard, it’s like something is physically pulling him in. Chaining him to his pillow.
He may be a bit scared to face the day, to leave the comfort of warmth and function. He curls up in bed and feels useless.
Everybody is out of the dorm and at breakfast and Regulus cannot even move. What is he doing? He should leave. He can’t move. He’s so tired. He’s wasting time. Mother is going to be mad. Even Slughorn can’t ignore a days worth of missed classes. But he feels like a puppet with its strings cut off. He’s gone limp. And maybe soft in the head.
But he feels safe here. Avery isn’t caressing his hand with murder in his mind nor are Mother’s letters slowly choking his throat.
Regulus feels guilty about not attending classes. He didn’t even tell Crouch or Rookwood, his roommates, to tell someone that he’s sick. It all just adds up to his terrible mood. Someone is going to drag him to the infirmary if he says he’s sick though. Then they’ll see that he’s not even sick but just lazy.
Regulus spells his bed’s curtains shut with the most complex spells he knows and applies silencing wards. He’ll bloody hide for eternity if it means he can be alone for sometime.
-*-*-*-*-*-
Someone tried to touch his curtains. They probably recoiled in shock at the very painful feeling they then experienced.
Regulus feels stifled knowing there is someone in the room with him. Regulus is so hungry and tired. He wants to be alone. It feels like he’s been in his bed for days.
Regulus buries his head in the pillow once more, stares at nothing and thinks of nothing.
-*-*-*-*-*-
Regulus doesn't know what the precise date or time is but through the curtain shimmers a slight ray of light. He musters up the strength to look under his bed for a book. He grabs the first one to fall into his hand. It’s an Arithmancy book that isn’t particularly interesting. It just contains basic knowledge that Regulus already knows. His lips stretch into a frown.
He’s completely exhausted after picking up the book. It fills him up with shame. He bets even Dumbledore wouldn’t be this exhausted if he were 200 years old and on the brink of death.
Regulus is just sixteen and he’s acting like he’s a million years old. What is wrong with him? Why is he being so dramatic? He gets one bad letter and the normal amount of disrespect from his housemates and he resorts to this? Regulus chuckles self-deprecatingly. Oh, Mother is going to kill him.
Yet he’s here, in his bed, exhausted after the smallest movement. He’s so hungry and cold. He needs to eat but he doesn’t want to go to the arctic conditions. Even the smallest movements make him cold under the blanket.
He’s gone to the bathroom a couple of times but thankfully no one has been present. His trips leave him panting and drained. He had to take a break on the icy floor because he couldn’t see through his dark spots at all. If only Kreacher was at Hogwarts…
His mouth tastes terrible since he hasn’t brushed his teeth. His gums ache even though it has only been a day.
Regulus purposely avoided every mirror. His hair is probably a nasty mess, tangled in a million knots and greased like oil. He’s still in his pyjamas. They’re unwashed and smell like sweat. It feels disgusting.
Regulus closes his eyes and tries to think of nothing. He doesn’t think of the Dark Lord and what an embarrassment he would be if he was in his ranks.
-*-*-*-*-*-
Someone is trying to mess with his curtains again. They’re twitching around. Regulus doesn’t want to be disturbed. He is fine with just being here. It’s safe and sound. Regulus lifts his blankets to his nose and turns away from the annoying curtains. His world is spinning, in motion without any movements. If he stays still enough, it stops for a time.
Much to Regulus’s horror, someone actually pries the curtains open. Slughorn’s ‘’Regulus, my boy!’’ startles him badly.. His world has been so quiet that the noise seems unbearably loud. Regulus turns his head around to face the light wearily, and sheepishly.
‘’Sorry mate, you haven’t shown up for meals for two days so we had to get Slughorn’’ Crouch placates him with an apologetic expression. Rookwood stands next to Crouch and looks like he doesn’t even regret stepping out of line. Regulus will step on him, on all of these traitors.
Of course, Avery is there too. He makes it his personal mission to extend his grubby hands on every Slytherin. From what Regulus can see through the extra bright lights of the dorm, Avery only seems troubled. It’s good that he hasn’t started his weird domineering thing yet.
‘’Regulus! These oafs told me you were just sick!’’ Avery hisses at the other two boys. They did no such thing, but Regulus can understand trying to look in front of Slughorn. ‘’I’m sorry that I didn’t come check up on you sooner. I could’ve had your meals be brought up if you didn’t feel well enough to move’’ Avery sickeningly sweetly reassures him. Regulus rolls his eyes mentally.
Slughorn looks frantic, probably imagining the amount of vile he will get from Mother for not taking care of her heir. ‘’I’ve been worried boy! Those wards were quite tricky to disassemble!’’ Slughorn’s receding hairline shines in the bright light and he laughs to try to make the situation lighter. Regulus wants to bash his face in.
‘’Let’s get you to the infirmary, boy. You must be checked out by Pomfrey!’’ Slughorn continues prattling off but Regulus doesn’t pay attention to him. He realises how truly embarrassing all of this is. Regulus covers his face in his hands for a moment, wishing that he could evaporate into mist and escape.
He’s in smelly pyjamas, with greasy skin and even greasier hair. The four wizards on his right are all in pressed robes with perfect hair. Well, except Slughorn, because his hair is flying off on a broom.
Regulus must seem like a nutcase to all of them. He’s been here, in his bed, for apparently two days to avoid school work and all social contact. He didn’t even show up for meals for Morgana’s sake! How barmy can a Black heir get before they’re blasted off the tree? Mother would prefer if he was a murderer rather than an antisocial wimp.
Slughorn is apparently finished because he motions for Regulus to get up. He’s not sure if he can. He already went to the bathroom once today and it was quite the trip. ‘’I’m tired, Professor’’ Regulus so helpfully says. Speaking hurts very badly, he finds.
‘’Oi, come on. Let’s go.’’ Crouch takes charge and pulls his arm. He struggles with his weight alone. ‘’Do try to make this a bit easier!’’ he motions to the other boys and they comply. Avery’s touch is soft but Crouch treats him like a ragdoll. Regulus’s head lags behind his moving body. The world spins and he feels ill. Regulus feels out of breath and takes big gulps of air when he’s upright.
Crouch and Avery seem to understand that he can’t really stand so they put their shoulders under his. Their bodies feel unbelievably warm and Regulus might melt a little. He doesn't show it though. Hopefully.
It’s been a long time since he’d felt someone so close to him. The thought is very embarrassing.
Regulus curls on himself because his stomach is growling with pain and despite the warm furnaces to his side, he’s still cold.
‘’You must be cold with your flimsy pyjamas, let’s get you something warmer’’ Avery, Merlin bless his soul, points out. Regulus might fall in love with him a little. Slughorn splutters, probably cursing himself for not thinking of it sooner. ‘’Yes, you’re right my boy!’’
Rookwood frantically picks up a discarded sleeping robe from the floor. Judging by the obnoxious neon green, it must be Mulciber’s. The boy has a terrible colour scheme in his closet and deigns to spread around the joy of horrible clothing.
Regulus once threatened to burn it down if he didn’t get rid of a certain robe patterned with geometrical shapes. He didn’t reap Regulus’ advice so his closet mysteriously burned to ashes. It’s the one thing that Regulus has done that gathered some respect. It was unfortunate that not a lot of his clothes were in his closet. They’re usually thrown about the whole dorm floor.
Avery and Rookwood help him into the robe and Regulus feels even more hideous. It’s not unusual for Slytherins to help each other but the amount of care in their movements feels suspicious. He slaps their hands away in embarrassment. At least let him leave with a little grace.
He confidently saunters to the dorm door but starts careening to the side at the same time. Like out of some sitcom, ends his travel by falling sideways to the floor. His fall makes a crash sound but his ears deafen the sound.
Today he needed to start from the ground and work his way up to his knees slowly before practically crawling to the bathroom. What did he expect? That he’ll move just fine right after getting up so quickly? Idiot.
Slughorn cries out in front of Regulus’ swimming eyesight. ‘’Perhaps it would be better to carry Mr Black away from the dorms. When in the hallways I’ll levitate him. I fear he’ll hit his head in these narrow rooms’’ the professor desperately suggests, probably imagining Mother’s letter. ‘’Come on boys! Hurry it up’’ Slughorn reprimands the boys and they spring into action.
Regulus isn’t at first sure who picked him up on their back but the curls poking at his face reveals it to be Rookwood. He’s surprised he dared to touch him. His back is very broad and he smells like outside. Regulus rests his right cheek on the back of his neck and feels very warm. He’ll take a quick nap.
-*-*-*-*-*-
Regulus startles awake. Someone is moving his body. He opens his eyes and sees Rookwood putting him down on something soft. Regulus feels exhausted.
Pomfrey is tutting and fretting. Regulus imagines he looks very pathetic and dirty. He doesn’t want to think about the others so he ignores them and lays still on the bed. Regulus closes his eyes. Time goes on and Regulus eventually sleeps.
The nurse thrusts potions and meals at Regulus many times a day.
‘’I don’t need to involve the Headmaster, do I, Mr Black?’’ she asks.
‘’There is nothing that he could do’’ he replies.
Regulus goes to classes again with murder in his eyes. His eyes are bulging out and daring anyone to speak to him. Avery sticks to his side and makes him eat vegetables until Regulus feels like snapping.
Mother’s letters make his heart burn.
-*-*-*-*-*-
Dinner time seems to be reserved for pondering. For insipid questions such as: Oh, what is life? Oh, why must one plough through it? Aren’t there supposed to be fits of joy and happy surprises? Questions that seem so simple, yet aren’t.
Once upon a time Regulus did, indeed feel these frivolous positive things. The mirth of catching the snitch, little adventures to the creek and chocolate muffins.
One day all these feelings were fossilised. Their shapes were imprinted on rocks, long gone and soon to be forgotten. Now he only feels rage.
Rage at the world, his family and his peers. He can only summon enmity when interacting with other people. For the first time he yells at Mulciber to piss off and tells Avery to mind his own business. His sudden outburst has rendered him sitting alone in the lonely, echoing Great Hall. When Greengrass made the mistake to hover too close to him, Regulus looked at him with a lip curled in disgust and eyes drenched in ire. The boy went away rather quickly.
Maybe he has some sort of respect now, Regulus doesn’t really know, but it doesn’t feel so good. Somewhere beyond the surface of fury there is fear and doubt.
His heart beats as fast as a frightened rabbit’s. Mother has sent him multiple letters that he has ignored. He hasn’t read them because he’s furious, and anxious. Regulus’ housemates whisper behind his back and snicker when they think he can’t hear. Mulciber has stopped smirking at him and helping in Potions. Rookwood and Crouch seem quieter than usual.
Everything is too complicated. Regulus doesn’t want to think about what his actions look like to others or how it’s going to affect his reputation. He has none to speak of.
‘’Letter for you, Black’’ Goyle spits out and throws it carelessly on the dining table. Regulus takes a small steadying breath. These hand delivered letters come through Slughorn (and through a student) when the rich pureblood parent has deemed the letter too important for owls. Regulus feels like crying when he sees the Black insignia on it.
Taking the letter in a trembling hand, Regulus leaves the Great Hall feeling like a beaten man. He finds a quiet alcove and sits down. He eyes the envelope for a few calm seconds before tearing into it.
Not going to respond to my letters?
We’ll speak when you come home for Yule.
The date is fixed. Don’t even entertain the thought of declining.
The sender hasn’t written their name but it’s quite obvious that it is from Mother.
Regulus can only hear the blood gushing in his ears. All his anger vanishes in a second. All he fears is fear. He isn’t the right person for this kind of job. He scares easily, he can’t command anyone. He’s heard gory stories from Lucius. He’s seen a few messes Bellatrix has made. He’s met the Dark Lord once already. It’s not something a coward should be a part of. He can only kneel, and maybe that is enough for the Dark Lord.
Regulus hopes this will make others respect him more, even a little bit would do.
-*-*-*-*-*-
It’s Halloween and Regulus can hear his body falling apart. His arms hang loosely around his sides and the hinges of his legs creek horribly as he moves. His heart has become a marathon runner and it cries out in exhaustion every time he wanders out of the dungeons.
Bellatrix sends him excited letters that Regulus tries his best to reply to. She makes his hands shake more than Mother —no mean feat in itself. Lucius congratulates him with warm letters and well wishings from Narcissa.
‘’Have you any plans for Hogsmeade?’’ Mulciber suddenly asks and frightens Regulus. He’s been ignoring Regulus for some time now.
‘’Not any in particular’’ Regulus answers with narrowed eyes. What does the boy wish for?
‘’Oh, great. Come to Dervish and Banges with me.’’
‘’Don’t have any money of your own?’’ Regulus drawls, trying to communicate to the boy that he doesn’t want to.
Mulciber glares at him. ‘’Just trying to be nice’’ he mutters.
Regulus looks at him with wide eyes for a second. ‘’Oh —sure then.’’ Has he made a friend?
Embarrassed by the interaction Mulciber focuses on his plate of food. Regulus’ heart calms down for a moment, feeling a little better than he did at the start. Are these the kind of allies that Narcissa so desperately wants him to cultivate? Regulus does not know what has made Mulciber be nice to him.
Regulus tries to quell his nervous hands from fidgeting.
-*-*-*-*-*-
We’ll think of a show of strength for the Dark Lord. Practice your magic!
Bella L.
Regulus sighs. Somehow he doesn’t think killing mice is going to be good enough for the Dark Lord nor for Bella.
-*-*-*-*-*-
One frosty Tuesday morning in November Slughorn pats his shoulder after class.
‘’Your family must be very proud, Mr. Black’’ he smiles.
Regulus swallows and smiles back. ‘’I hope so.’’
Slughorn’s hand burns and Mulciber waits silently at the door. Regulus’ eyes flick to the floor before he gathers the courage to look the boy in the eyes. With a stoic face Mulciber simply nods.
No words are needed. They both know what’s coming.
-*-*-*-*-*-
Regulus manages to catch a rabbit in the Forest. It feels harder to kill than a rat.
His stomach rolls as the immobilised rabbit bursts from the inside out. Regulus falls on his knees and throws up. His tears feel hot on his face.
He’s so going to get killed.
-*-*-*-*-*-
He’s already feeling stupidly vulnerable when the Traitor comes to rattle his cage. ‘’Has something happened?’’ he asks when he sees Regulus emerge from the Forest with a puffy face.
Regulus hates it. He hates knowing everybody only sees him as weak and fragile; someone to be protected. He hates being cast off to the side like an old cup of tea. He hates being treated like a porcelain cup about to fall off the table.
And here comes the Traitor with his broad shoulders, confident gait and assured superiority. He dares to look concerned, for him. It makes Regulus want to laugh nastily in his face. To think the great Sirius would give a damn about others? Laughable. He did not care when Regulus was so weak as to wish for a tight-knit family. A family that wasn’t so cold and apathetic.
Regulus doesn’t need anyone, rather he’d be doing much better if everyone simply left him alone. But everybody wants to dictate how Regulus lives his life. Sirius wanted him to run away with him, he wanted Regulus to throw away everything he held dear. To simply leave his family to fend for themselves without an heir, unbelievable. Sirius did not think what would happen to Regulus if he left. He’d still be in Slytherin, trying to fend for himself for two years. No one would speak to him, rather they would insult Regulus any way they could. His current daily life isn’t exactly sociable but at least he’s not a complete piranha.
Regulus feels so lost now. It’s clear what Mother and Father want him to do. He doesn’t want to go that way either, for he is a coward. He’s afraid of taking control of his own life, even more so the lives of others. Regulus wishes for freedom, but it is too frightening.
A big part of the reason his life looks like this now, is caused by the Traitor. It is because of him that Mother looks at him with cold and furious eyes. Her presence during dinnertime feels like a dementor, echoes of unhappy times cascading off the walls. Father slowly loses colour and becomes more transparent. His disappointment rolls in waves when he teaches Regulus politics that Sirius is already familiar with. ‘’ I wasn’t supposed to do this’’ Regulus thinks while sitting like a petulant child in his chair. Father’s glacial eyes feel worse than Mother’s curled lip.
Grandfather Pollux, like Mother, watches him with angry eyes and tells him to stand up straight. He didn’t much like Sirius but his current irritation is clear for everyone to see. It all fills Regulus with such a desperation to be better. To be a better Black. He grasps to their admonition and advice like a throwline, hoping to make some part of him better. Anything to make him better. He wasn’t meant to be the one in the spotlight.
So when Sirius corners him out of the blue after Regulus buries a rabbit that he killed, and asks him what happened, Regulus snaps.
‘’Get out of here!’’ he yells, red in the face.
The Traitor plants his feet onto the ground and squares his shoulders. It is not what Regulus needs right now, but Sirius isn’t known to make life easier for Regulus. ‘’What’s going on?’’ he asks. Feeling like he’s about to burst into tears, Regulus yells at him once more: ‘’Go away, you fucking dunderhead!’’ The mutt gapes at Regulus for a moment but then predictably rises to the fight.
‘’Why are you trying to bite my head off? Calm down, sissy!’’
It is the insult of being weak that undoes Regulus. He’s so tired of everyone assuming that he can do nothing on his own, that he’s nothing but a marionette that everyone gets to play around with. Unwisely, Regulus curses him with a spell that first comes to find. It’s a dark one, and Sirius stumbles as all of his fingers are instantly broken. The deafening crack makes Regulus’ stomach sink.
Sirius lets out a pained scream. He looks at Regulus with fear as he tries to breathe through the pain. Blood drips down his shaky hands, he holds them in front of him in shock. ‘’What is wrong with you!?’’ he yells, tears in his eyes. Regulus flinches out of his stupor and leaves Sirius with his mutilated hands.
Regulus’ legs shake under him, and he wonders what is wrong with him. Why was his first response to do something so horrible?
At least it leaves him with a good memory to show to the Dark Lord, to show he isn’t as weak as they think he is. The thought isn’t as comforting as Regulus wishes it would be.
-*-*-*-*-*-
Regulus takes his most protectively warded armband with him to home. With it he could at least block some of the damage anyone might want to bestow on him. Regulus chuckles. Who is he kidding? It isn’t going to help at all.
Grimmauld Place seems livelier than ever. The house is filled to the brim with candles and festive ornaments. Even Kreacher doesn’t seem so cranky.
Mother sweeps into the room with a bored expression. ‘’About time you showed up. Bellatrix will come in the evening and you two will go off to do whatever that twisted girl has thought of.’’ Mother clicks her tongue and moves a vase slightly to the left.
Already? Regulus has just stepped back home and he’s got to do it in a short few hours?
Mother pauses for a second and looks Regulus up and down. ‘’Be sure to knock her down a bit. She’s been insufferable lately’’ she says with her lip curled. "And don't think I've forgotten your little stunt. I'll deal with you later." She bestows a choking glare on him and sweeps out of the room.
Regulus feels all his warmth leave him. Of course Mother wouldn't forget. She probably heard a ridiculous amount of snide and sneaky comments about Regulus and his Hogwarts ventures.
A mirror sits on a table by the wall. Regulus walks there to gaze at his darkened face. His eye bags seem heavier than ever, the charms working overtime to fix his flaws. His black hair seems flatter than usual, missing its natural light bounciness.
What he sees in the mirror everyday looks less and less like him. What's staring at him back isn't really him, just an imitator. When did he start feeling like this? When did the current day feel a bit harder than the one before it?
Regulus has gone downhill for a long time now, and it seems he can only go lower. He might murder someone today. He might torture someone today. Regulus is under Bellatrix' mercy and whatever she thinks is a show of strength. Knowing her it's bound to include a gory amount of blood.
Regulus' dark eyes seem empty. Even Mother's eyes shine due to the overflowing amount of candles adorning their walls. Yet, light seems to evade his pupils completely, depriving Regulus of a bright and eager demeanour. Perhaps even the elements can sense what he is about to do and who for.
Regulus desperately wants to go home.
But he is home.