Because of All We’ve Seen. Chapter i
Regulus Black was very lucky.
He had no right to believe or act like anything else was true.
He was young and smart and well-off and so utterly perfect for his parents' world.
So what if he spent his days pretending to be a girl because that's what it said on his birth certificate? So what if he loathed every damn person around him almost as much as he loathed himself? So what if he was only so perfect because he knew the consequences if he failed to be?
Regulus Black was not Sirius. He was quieter, more charismatic. A better actor.
He was still here.
---
He remembered the day he'd learned of his brother's fate. It was June 17th, the day Sirius was to get back from his reform school in Wales, some barren shithole meant to scare rich delinquent boys straight by showing them how the poor lived, how they'd end up if they didn't get their act together, if their parents had to disown them.
A disowned son and heir would be a huge embarrassment for Walburga and Orion Black.
Regulus sat in his parents' grand foyer for twelve hours, waiting for his older brother to open the door and step inside, looking properly chastened and ready to resume his life in the Black home, ready to speak to Regulus only in whispers, only when they were alone. Regulus was so ready for Sirius to show up.
At precisely six o'clock in the evening, dinner was served, the old and wizened butler Mr. Kreacher filling Walburga and Orion's tall, delicate wineglasses.
There were only three table settings.
The Blacks ate wordlessly, the stifling quiet broken only by Orion's knife every so often tapping against his fork, proof that he had been new money when he married Walburga. At every tiny noise, she shot him the same look she used to give Regulus when he ate too much or too quickly. Before he'd learned.
Regulus was careful not to eat more than half of what was put in front of him, so he slipped through the hour unnoticed, if constantly observed. The dinner passed just like any other. When Mr. Kreacher had swiftly and silently cleared the table settings, Regulus sat completely still, waiting for his parents to excuse themselves before he could.
They didn't.
After a full day of almost total silence, Walburga's cold and stable voice was grating on Regulus's ears.
"Ursa, my former son Sirius has done things irreconcilable with the family. He knew the consequences of his actions. You no longer have a brother. Am I understood?"
Regulus fought to keep his voice stable. Sirius. Gone.
"Yes, mother."
There. Barely perceptible. Regulus's voice caught on the last syllable. He knew immediately that Walburga had noticed. Her eyes lit up with the vindictive glow they sometimes got, the only emotion Regulus ever saw from her.
"You're fourteen, Ursa, you must get over such silly attachments. It is unbecoming of a well-bred young woman to-" here Walburga's voice grew slightly higher. "You are not a poor little damsel in need of anyone or anything, and you are not to disgrace the family by acting like you are."
Regulus nodded stiffly, keeping his eyes blank. He understood. She was more right than she knew.
Walburga stood abruptly and walked towards the room she had so often dragged Sirius into when he talked back, looked unkempt, or otherwise behaved in any way 'unbefitting the Black heir.'
Regulus stood and followed. He had learned long before that it was better to go willingly, of his own volition, than to be taken. He could maintain control.
---
Regulus retired silently to his room. He closed the door softly, careful to muffle the click of the doorknob sliding into place.
He looked at his screaming fingernails blankly, knowing they would look normal, manicured to perfection, the next day. There would be no evidence of his mistake.
Regulus only had marks in one place, hidden away in the crook of his arm. He had put them there before he understood what it was to be tainted, and now they would never go away. Knowing this, Regulus had no qualms about adding to them, confined to the already ruined crevice.
He stared blankly at his blood, unsure if he could even feel the cuts. He supposed it didn't matter.
In the relative safety of his own bedroom, Regulus wondered if Sirius's blood had looked the same before he went. If it was dark and shiny and so, so red. He wondered if Walburga and Orion saw their children's blood in the wine they sipped from elegant goblets nightly. He wondered if his blood would have the same bitter, acrid taste.
It didn't.
He surmised, after judging this, that taste was the one and only difference between his parents' wine and their children's blood. Walburga and Orion drained both slowly and carefully, sip by sip. No matter how long it took, however, they always emptied the goblets. Just as they had Sirius. Just as they someday would Regulus.
---
Over five years had passed since the days of Sirius Black. He had been there, and then he wasn't. There was no trace of him anywhere. Regulus hid it in himself.
You see, Regulus Black was very lucky. He was still alive. He was allowed to attend college, as a high-class woman was to be well educated. Even though she would never be anything but a wife.
Regulus learned, at school, that his upbringing was abnormal. He learned that his roommate Pandora liked herself. He learned that her friend Barty very openly hated his father. He learned that Barty's roommate Evan chose what he wanted to do, even though his parents disapproved.
Regulus learned that he wanted to be like them.
He learned one more very important thing.
---
Pandora dragged Regulus out of the comfort of their dorm, claiming that "you can't be a good writer - no offense, dear - if you've never experienced shit." Apparently staying at the same desk staring at the same Word document on the same laptop all day was "obsessive" and "rather concerning, Reg."
Despite his whining, Regulus was more than willing to get lunch with his best - and only - friends.
They were assholes and he loved them.
They were settling into their usual booth of a disgustingly aristocratic Italian bistro where Regulus loved to waste his parents' fortune. There was a loud sound, like a fork dropping onto a plate, followed by a harsh and almost violent laugh.
Regulus couldn't stop his head from instinctively snapping up, couldn't stop his spine from straightening, his eyes scanning the room for the offender.
That's when Regulus Black had a revelation.
He learned that Sirius Black was not dead.