pages of poetry

Nothing could ever be quite as cold as the Black Manor. As winter approached, the windows were lined with frost.

Walburga had found use in her second-born son once again, parading him around on her errands, to show she had a spare son, just in case Sirius ever loosened too much from her grasp.

His mother had begun hosting evenings at the Black Manor, inviting old families with children of Regulus' age proceeding to Hogwarts the next year. She did not want to make the same oversight as she did with his older brother, as in not forcing who he could be friends with on him. A Black family soiree was always exclusive, only open to the purest of families, and only the parents and children that would get along with Walburga and Orion. This only left a small selection of people, but some were decent enough that Regulus managed to stick by them most of the night. The Rosier twins were fortunate to join the bunch, even though their girl was slightly peculiar. Her twin Evan had explained early on how she was a 'Seer', and could sometimes see things others could not.

Still under Walburga's supervision, Regulus was made to interact with all of the children invited, so as to not disappoint her selections of people. The collection of dinner parties and get-togethers had increased after Walburga began, with more families catching on, and wanting to influence their children into the right relationships before school started too. Regulus, of course, was constantly invited to some formal occasion at least twice a week and had to balance learning his charms, writing to his brother, and sleeping at a normal rate for a ten-year-old all on top of each other. His Charms progress had both progressed and come to a halt, as Regulus needed a more powerful wand to continue with his studies. He would have to wait.

At one dinner in late October, when the Black Manor was finally quiet, inhabited by only Regulus and his parents, he had asked his mother about when he would get his wand, and whilst she was pleased with his eagerness, buying a wand this early in the year would raise suspicion. She had promised Regulus to begin the wand-buying process by spring if not early summer. Without his charms to keep him busy, Regulus spent time in his father's study, reading his ancient literature, and answering his father's many dull philosophical questions, always in French as his father refused to speak any other language, forcing Regulus to practise his pronunciation and translation. The steady conversation quickly turned into heated debate, as they discussed superior classics and the author's intention. Some days, his father was too busy with ministry work, or feeling too sick to spend all day awake and in his office chair, and Regulus was left by himself once more. Orion tended to stay in bed some mornings, even sometimes stretching through the whole day. His mother would brush it off as some 'episode', and Regulus knew better to leave it alone.

Regulus found himself many days wandering the Manor's long and extensive gardens, watching house elves prune the bushes, and keep the garden in its pristine condition. He had been enthralled by their use of magic. Elves didn't need wands. With snaps of fingers, they could produce magic strong enough to mow an entire lawn a similar size to a half quidditch pitch. Scouring the family library, Regulus had found two books, one on house elves, and another on wandless magic. Since knowing his simple first-year charms with ease, the boy tried wordlessly casting and even went as far as to be able to do a Wingardium-leviosa on his quill using his mind. The magic was weak, even the lightweight feather shook in the air, whilst he was able to float it to the ceiling of the ballroom using the old and used wand. Something was more than nothing.

His new skill occupied his mind constantly. Regulus tried during dinners to accidentally drop a napkin on the floor, and float it back upwards using a thought command. During the first few days, it took time to raise it, with his constant attention on the dropped napkin. As October passed, he was able to pick up his fork with a simple thought, and within seconds.
Sirius' letters still frequented Regulus' window, and he would always devour each letter and word coming from the pages sent by his brother. His replies lacked all the action that his brother and his new friends had experienced at the castle. The most Regulus had gotten up to was spending time with his new friends, or more acquaintances. The children understood that they were forced to interact by their parents, relying on their children's friendship as almost a business affair. Walburga would discuss with her son who he could involve himself with, which thankfully included the Rosier twins. The three of them would often escape dinner parties for short periods to explore the outdoors, and Evan would cause mischief. The blonde boy held such an innocent look around him, yet would get up to all sorts of trouble, always finding some small object and taking it from a Manor as a 'souvenir.' He would replace these artefacts with the old ones, so no one could notice his slowly building hoard, but the boy kept track of his wares and treasures.
Regulus began counting the days until his brother would return home, and life could resume to its normal.

little did regulus know that normal could never exist, now. Since the sorting hat had moved his older brother to the lion house, things would no longer exist the same way they did, when Sirius was destined to be great, and make his mother proud.
Regulus' life would forever be changed, having to make up for his brother's disappointments and be the Black heir Walburga accepted.

~the black notebook (regulus continued)~

Regulus had not forgotten about his brother's pages of poetry. But as his brother was living hours away, the pages had not changed since he had first found the pocket-sized book hidden in Sirius' drawer.

Since its discovery, Regulus had set out to become like his brother. His classical reading had shown him how the ancient authors wrote, but their words couldn't match that of Sirius Orion Black. Regulus had even found books of poetry lined amongst the Black Manor library's shelves and had looked at the older ones too. He had attempted his own, as well but none of the words seemed to come to him. In his frustration, he wrote a poem in itself.

it hadn't matched the quality of his brother's writings, Regulus would tend to try and find words to rhyme and would string together more like a sappy song lyric than the poems his brother had written. He couldn't understand what made it so easy to blurt words on paper and have it reach his would as Sirius had. He couldn't believe his brother had hidden his book from his brother, but also knowing the Black family, he could. Regulus slept with the papers tucked under his ear, on the backside of his pillow. As he woke up, he kept his brother's book hidden, tucked into a pocket of whatever he was wearing, usually a space on the inside of his robe.

Many nights Regulus had tried his own takes in poems and had found them all useless. What good was he if he could only do charms, and be his mother's perfect son? How else could he live, if he weren't an artist? It felt like Regulus was missing a piece, some completing factor of his soul, especially in his brother's absence. His older sibling had always been his better half. He was just counting the days until his brother would return home.

But before then, the brothers would spend their first birthday apart. Sirius would still be at the castle for his birthday, leaving Regulus at home, without his brother to celebrate with. He remembered to write an extra letter to attach to their regular conversations, with strict instructions to only open on the third of November, a little under 2 months before he would see his brother once more. There was no room for a gift other than a small sketch Regulus had kept himself busy with, carving strokes into the old parchment when he wasn't working on his spells, or stuck at gatherings his mother had insisted he attend and make a thorough appearance at.