Chapter 2
-The betrothal and the mark-
Regulus was drowning, unable to breathe, and despite his attempts to swim upwards, he was being pulled down into what felt like an endless abyss. He tried to fight whatever was pulling him. It was strong. He couldn't give up. Regulus needed to escape.
Regulus awoke in a state of distress, perspiring. It was merely a dream, but it felt incredibly vivid. He was breathing heavily; the dream felt so real that it made it difficult for him to breathe while asleep in his bed. Sunlight beamed upon him as his eyes fluttered. He was still breathing heavily, to be frank. Several weeks have passed since he had an unpleasant conversation with his parents. If he could call him that, offering him on a silver platter like a prize.
He glanced to his left, where a calendar was hanging on the wall. The date had been noted. He realized it was today, the day he was to be marked. It was also the day his betrothal to his best friend's sister would be finalized. A cracking sound announced its presence; their family house-elf appeared at the foot of his bed.
“Master has told Kreacher that young master Regulus is needed in his study.” Kreacher has told him.
Reguls has not yet responded verbally, only with a groan of displeasure.
“What should Kreacher tells master?” The elf asked.
“Tell him that I will be there shortly.” He groaned as he slams his back on his bed.
The elf didn’t say a thing but bowed before disappearing with a sound of a crack.
Regulus had been dreading this day, and his schedule was quite full. He, his mother, and father were to have brunch with the Rosiers to finalize the betrothal contract. And after that, he is to be marked as he is to be presented to the dark lord. He proceeded to his father's study without attending to his appearance beforehand.
As he entered his study he noticed from the corner of his eyes the contract that his father had drawn upon. The stipulations were that he marry before his seventh year and that his wife produce an heir within five years of their marriage.
Great, even his sex life has already been drawn for him.
“Ah, you're here.” His father has acknowledge his presence
“You summoned me, father?” His eyebrows rise slightly.
“I have your betrothal contract ready for later.” He has informed him. “We’ll meet the Rosiers later in Diagon Alley for lunch. Mr. Evan Rosier,I anticipate his presence and expect your best conduct. I trust there will be no mischief from either of you.”
“Of course father.” He nodded, “if that’s all then I will be preparing for brunch.”
Regulus didn't waste any time; he made himself acceptable to the Rosiers so that their family name would remain respected.
When it was time for them to depart, he took some Floo powder and announced their destination as the Leaky Cauldron, their gateway to Diagon Alley.
He brushed the dust from his robes as he exits the Floo Network.
Shortly afterward, his parents arrived, followed by Rosier, whom he greeted warmly; his best friend and twin sister, Pandora, were also present.
Pandora offered him a warm smile, which he graciously returned, offering his arm for her to take. Diagon Alley was relatively quiet, although some curious witches were present. Regulus suspected one of them would likely sell this to the Daily Prophet. Who doesn’t like gossip? Surely the bumbling witches of the ton do.
The two families entered Rosa Lee Teabag, a shop his mother considered most appropriate for those of pure lineage to dine in too.
Regulus was relieved that his friend, Evan, and his family had also come, lessening any potential awkwardness between him and Pandora. Not that they had any awkwardness with each other, no, Pandora was one of his good friends, she is different, caring, understanding, smart, she was a Ravenclaw.
“Ah, young Mr. Black, so pleased to finally meet you. My Evan and Pandora here had sing you praises, I believe that you are all friends at school. Is that right?” Mrs. Rosier spoke eloquently.
“Please, Mrs. Rosier, Call me Regulus.” He insisted. “And yes, you are indeed correct. Evan, Pandora and I along with Barty, I assume you know of him, have been good friends at school.”
“My, what a charming young man you are, Regulus.” Mrs. Rosier commented.
“Well, now that pleasantries have been exchanged.” His father had started. “Let’s get to business shall we?” Antoine Rosier nodded, agreeing.
As they ordered through their meal courses, clauses for their betrothal contract were being discussed.
“Don’t you think that marrying them off by the end of their sixth year is too early?” Antoine said.
“Nonsense, the dark lord.” He whispered his name. “Is wanting our boy to join within his ranks and wish for young Regulus here to sire an heir. You don't want to disobey him now Antoine, do you?” He raised his eyebrows, his tone has a hint of threat in it.
Antoine merely nodded as he hummed in response. Regulus is to be married by the end of sixth year, the dark lord has personally requested this. He glanced at the Rosier twins, noting that Evan's jaw was tight and Pandora seemed to be shrinking in her seat. Naturally, the responsibility of producing an heir would weigh heavily on one's shoulders, and knowing Evan, he would strongly disapprove of the dark lord's plans, especially if it’s towards his sister.
“Is that all of what the dark lord has asked Orion?” Drawled Antoine.
Orion said nothing but took a sip from his champagne.
“I see,” Antoined had understood whatever his father had made.
Lunch had been quiet, it was too formal. It has never been this quiet with Evan and Pandora around, but of course it would be like this. After all this is some sort of formality for purebloods bethroting their children, but this—this is far too public. They want to show that the Blacks will be more powerful as they tie themselves with the Rosiers.
Regulus didn’t think that he’ll be able to go through all this, let alone keep his lunch in his stomach.
“It was lovely to meet you Regulus, I’m sure that you’ll be a wonderful husband to our Pandora.” Mrs. Rosier smiled as he cupped Regulus’ cheek, she was sweet unlike his mother.
“See you on the first of September mate.” Evan patted his shoulder before walking beside his mother. He glanced a look at Pandora and gave her a smile. Well, it was more of an ‘I’m sorry you have to go through this bullshit’ kind of smile. Regulus is lucky enough that it was Pandora, they understand each other in some sort of way.
The Rosiers had disappeared in a blink of an eye, they had apparated, of course.
Regulus, obediently followed his parents and he complied with everything that his father had ordered him to do. Every order had been barked at him.
“Why are you not dressed?” Orion drawled out the words. “The dark lord wouldn’t be pleased if we were late!”
“I don’t want this father, I—” he was interrupted, his father didn’t even let him finish his sentence.
“I will hear none of it Regulus, the dark lord has chosen you and you shall comply!” Orion spatted all of his words out, displeased with Regulus for just being late.
“Get dressed, I shall see you by the floo in five minutes, no later than that.” With a slam of the door Regulus was left alone inside his bed chambers.
Of course he followed his others, he wasn’t given the freedom to choose on his own. He wore a black suit, quite appropriate for the occasion, it felt like attending his own funeral. Well, that's a possibility he might consider if it offers a way out.
He took a handful of floo powder on his hand and called out Nott Manor, it is where the headquarters of the dark lord.
“My lord,” With a bow, Orion offered a greeting, whimpering to the person he addressed as his lord.
Regulus stifled a scoff. He had never seen Orion… Scared? Was that it? Orion is scared of the person he so calls lord.
“M-may I present to you my heir.” He bowed. His father tilted his head, eyeing on him to do the same. And he did as he’s supposed to.
“Ah, young Regulus.” he hissed at the last letter of his name.
He raised his head, as soon as he saw the face of the dark lord he began to occlude. This man— snake. No, he doesn’t even look human at all.
“M-my lord?” Regulus wasn’t even sure what he should call him.
A cackle, the dark lord was cackling with how he responded.
“Your father told me what a remarkable person you are.” A smile was creeping up on his face. It was disgusting.
“I’m flattered by my lord, but I must say that I still have plenty of things to learn about.” He kept it humble.
“Do you think you will be a great asset to me?” He asked.
“I— what’s mine is yours my lord.” Regulus kept his head down.
“You amuse me young Black, I can see that you’ll be in good use within our ranks.”
Regulus can feel how proud Orion is right now. But this? This is the end for him. Nothing will be the same after whatever happens here.
“Give me your arm.” He instructed.
Regulus didn’t have a choice.
No, he did have a choice but what will his consequence be? Will it be death? At least his suffering will come to an end.
But he was a coward, he did what his parents wanted him to do, he reached out his hand and the dark lord had casted some sort of spell on it.
Regulus screamed, the pain was excruciating, the room echoed only his screams as he branded him.
Regulus hoped someone might intervene, rescue him, and offer him protection from these terrible monsters, but it was merely a wishful thought, a rather improbable one.
He must have passed out. Regulus had woken up inside his quarters. He moved his left arm and winced at the pain. It wasn’t a dream, he was now forever branded. Regulus crawled over to the side of his bed, grabbing his cypress wand. With one quick swish from it, he had casted a strong silencing charm. His left arm twitched from the pain, he shakily rolled up his sleeves slowly. He stared at the mark. He dug his nails onto it. He appeared to be screaming silently, as if his vocal cords had been removed.
“FUCK!” He screamed. A sob came after his agonizing scream.
“I‐ fuck this shit!” He sobbed out his pain.
“H-he’ll never look at me the s-same.” He cried to himself.
“He’ll n-never fucking forgive me, he’ll loathe me until I die.” He wept, his tears flowed endlessly, and he was unable to stop them.
“FUCK!” He yelled, this time in anger.
The stack of books from the corner of his room burned; Regulus couldn't care less if this very house burned.
It’s just him, not even his friends could sympathise with what he had been through. Regulus is all alone with this.
He thought of his brother, what would Sirius even say when he finds out? Or Ja— Potter?
Fuck.
Fuck
Fuck
He had forgotten all about his boyfriend with everything that had happened. Eventually he needed to end things with him as soon as term started. His engagement with Pandora will soon make it in the papers and he doesn't want him to discover it through the prophet. He would need to find a way to speak to him and end things as painless as possible. He would have to occlude so that he wouldn't break.
From his bedside, he reached over to the drawer of his nightstand and carefully pulled out a photograph. It was a cherished memory from the previous year—one that never failed to stir a whirlwind of emotions within him. The image captured a moment between him and James, frozen in time. James had draped his arm casually over his shoulder, exuding warmth and familiarity. Just as the camera clicked, James had leaned in, pressing a gentle yet unexpected kiss against his cheek. A deep flush had instantly spread across his face, betraying his surprise and the flurry of emotions that surged within him at that very moment. Even now, as he gazed at the picture, he could almost feel the heat rising to his cheeks once more.
A fleeting smile touched his face at the recollection, but it vanished quickly. Regulus inhaled deeply before softly whispering an incantation. “Incendio.” He quivered at the word.
He watched in silence as the edges of the photograph curled inward, blackening under the relentless hunger of the flames. The image, once so vivid—James' easy smile, the warmth in his eyes, the way his arm had rested so effortlessly over his shoulder—was now being consumed, devoured by fire until only charred remnants remained.
His fingers trembled at his sides, clenched into fists as the heat of the fire licked at his skin, but he made no move to stop it. He had thought that destroying the picture would make it easier, that if he erased the physical proof of that moment, maybe—just maybe—he could do it without breaking apart.
The past was not so easily burned away. The ghosts of what once was, of what could have been, still clung to him like a haunting melody, whispering in the spaces between heartbeats. Even now, as the last embers faded into nothingness, he could still feel the ghost of James’ touch, the phantom warmth of lips against his cheek, and the weight of everything they had lost pressing down on his chest, suffocating him.
He swallowed hard, his throat tight, his breath uneven. The room was silent now—too silent. The photograph was gone, but the pain remained, heavier than ever.
He needs to let him go.