3
Walking back to his house was never really easy, ofcourse he didnt love school but it kept him busy. Distracted.
//
Regulus knew something was wrong the second he stepped through the front door.
The house was too quiet.
Not the usual kind of quiet, the heavy, suffocating silence he had lived in his whole life-but something sharper. Something waiting.
He swallowed, adjusting the strap of his bag as he stepped inside, careful to close the door without a sound. His ribs still ached from where Barty had elbowed him earlier, but he ignored it. That pain was easy. Forgettable.
This wasn’t.
His mother wasnt in the sitting room, which meant she was either upstairs or gone for the evening. He didnt know which he preferred. If she was gone, that left only him.
Regulus hesitated for half a second before stepping further into the house.
The walls felt taller than usual, the shadows darker. He moved carefully, footsteps light against the floor, his breath measured. Every instinct in his body told him to turn around, walk back outside, find somewhere—anywhere else to be.
But there was nowhere else.
So he walked deeper into the house, past the portraits of his greatparents,lining the hallways, their painted eyes following his every move. His fingers curled tighter around the strap of his bag.
A voice broke the silence.
“Regulus.”
His breath caught. He turned the corner and saw his father standing in the doorway of the study.
Orion Black looked at him like he was already disappointed.
Regulus straightened his posture, kept his expression carefully neutral. He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe too deeply.
Orion stepped forward, his presence filling the space between them.
“Where have you been.”
Regulus shifted slightly, gripping the strap of his bag, and tapped two fingers against his wrist.
School.
Orion’s gaze darkened.
“Don’t do that.”
Regulus’s stomach twisted, but he kept his face blank. He didn’t move his hands again.
Orion took another slow step forward.
“You don’t get to do that.” he said, voice steady but cold. “You dont get to act like a coward in your own home.”
Regulus kept his chin lifted, but his fingers curled against his palm. He had heard those words before. Coward. Disgrace. Weak. They always came first.
The rest always followed.
Orion exhaled sharply, shaking his head.
“You will learn,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “You will understand your place.”
Regulus’s fingers twitched at his sides. His heartbeat drummed behind his ribs, steady but loud.
He knew what was coming.
But knowing never made it easier.
Orion took another step forward, slow and deliberate, until the space between them was gone. The house was quiet enough that Regulus could hear his own heartbeat—steady, but too fast. His fingers twitched where they once were curled around the strap of his bag.
His father reached out, grasping Regulus’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting his face up. His grip wasn’t bruising, not yet, but it was firm.
“You will look at me when I speak to you.”
Regulus did. He always did.
Orion’s gaze was sharp, cutting straight through him like he could see every thought Regulus never spoke, every word that had died in his throat before it could form.
“You will not disrespect me in my own house,” his father said. His voice was quiet, but that only made it worse. “I cant believe i have a fucking retard as a son”
Regulus knew better than to move. To react.
“You stand there like a ghost,” Orion continued, letting go of his chin with a flick of his fingers. “Like a coward. You think silence protects you?”
Regulus swallowed, his throat tight.
“It makes you weak.”
The first blow was sudden, but not unexpected. A slap-sharp, calculated, meant to sting rather than bruise. A warning.
Regulus barely swayed.
Orion exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple like he was the one with the headache. Like Regulus was exhausting.
“Say something.”
Regulus didn’t
His father struck him again. Harder, this time.
His head snapped to the side, his cheek burning from the impact, but he stayed upright. His vision blurred for a moment, not from tears-he never let himself cry-but from the sheer force of it.
Orion’s hand curled into a fist.
“Say. Something.”
Regulus didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
That was what tipped his father over the edge.
The next hit landed just below his ribs, forcing the air from his lungs. He doubled over instinctively, his knees nearly buckling. The bag slipped from his shoulder, hitting the ground with a soft thud. Orion didn’t stop. A shove against his shoulder sent him stumbling backward until his back hit the wall. Another blow-his stomach, his ribs, his side. Each one precise. Not messy, not reckless, just enough to remind him of his place.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
It would be over soon. It always ended eventually.
Pain blurred time. It could have been seconds. Minutes. He only noticed it was over when the space between them grew wider, when the absence of another strike was more deafening than the impact itself.
Regulus cracked his eyes open.
Orion was staring down at him, expression unreadable. Then he scoffed.
“Pathetic”he muttered. “You’re lucky I still bother with you at all.”
Regulus didn’t move until his father turned and walked away. Until he heard the study door shut behind him.
Only then did he let himself breathe.
It was slow, shallow, every inhale pulling at his bruised ribs, but he forced himself to stand. His bag lay at his feet, one of the straps torn slightly where it had hit the floor. He bent down to pick it up, ignoring the way his body screamed in protest.
He didn’t cry.
He just turned and walked to his room, as if nothing had happened. He did miss his brother a little bit.