Puttin’ on the ritz
James POV
His hands gripped the glass firmly, veins popping with the tension he was putting on it. It was a wonder how the glass was still intact. He knew it was over for him once he saw Regulus across the ballroom. He swiftly made his way over to the grand table, laden with champagne, cakes, and various desserts, in an attempt to outdo any other party. The Blacks were like that. Father Black, Orion, was always stocked up in his office and really couldn't care less. I think he left a long time ago; his body just never got the memo. He acted normal, but he simply wasn't there. Then there was Mother Black, Walburga. She was a horrid, shriveled woman, always with wrinkles on her forehead and around her eyes—devil horn wrinkles, as I like to call them. These were the only hints to the outside world of the type of woman she was.
Then there was the oldest, Sirius, my brother—not through blood, but my soul wouldn’t be whole without him. He paraded into the party a while ago, always late, best dressed, with a flirtatious smirk on his face. A rake, he was often called. He was lusted after, desired—a feeling he both craved and despised. As he once told me, “They don’t love me; they desire me. They want to trap me. They want everything of mine: looks, affection, money. Name it, somebody here craves something I have. Everything but the truth. No one can bear the truth of a person, let alone one they idealize.” Sirius knew how they felt about him, but what was there to do but embrace the power it gave him? He had everything on the outside, yet within the doors of his home, he was a prisoner to the demons within or the devil outside. If you remember my line from before, you will understand.
Then there was Regulus, the youngest, the outsider. He was the complete opposite of his brother. Where Sirius was loud, Regulus was quiet. Where Sirius was surrounded by people, you were lucky if Regulus even spared you a look. He was an enigma I wanted to figure out. He only let me in far enough once to know if what I was searching for within him was even there. I was too hammered that night. He probably suspected I’d just forget. “I just can’t figure you out. I want to know who you are. Why won’t you let me? Why can’t I have that?” I can still remember how desperately I said that; the humiliation still haunts me. “You could have everything if you ask for it, Potter. Your life is your choice. If you want to figure me out, find a way. With all your talent and arrogance, I’m sure you’ll come up with something. I’ve never known you as someone to give up.” He then walked me to my carriage and disappeared without a trace. I’d known him for two years, and that was the only time I knew him as a soulful being, free of the walls that surrounded him.
Now, looking—or better yet, staring—at him, it’s like no one knows he’s there. His graceful strut through the people as he makes his way to his parents and brother on the grand staircase to give the yearly speech: “How grateful we are you’re here, how much of a year it’s been, blah blah blah,” and then the Blacks' motto: Toujours Pur, meaning “always pure.” The Black family thrived on that. They held one of the wealthiest, purest bloodlines, filled with royalty, lords, and ladies. The Blacks were as powerful as they came in regards to high class. There are legends saying they were known for riding in on dragons and burning villages until nothing was left. They all carried that violence within them. Nobody messed with them. Nobody dared to know what would become of them.
I look up to see the perfect picture family: Regulus standing still, head held high like he was trained, no smile, not even a small movement in that direction. The bitch, also known as their mother, had a hard smile on her face, grabbing Sirius' shoulder. I would have to get him a healing balm for the bruise she would leave. He glared at her with hatred, only looking forward when the picture was taken. Orion held a stiff impression I would hardly declare a smile. That picture would be a motif for the next achievements and the next scandals of the following year. But enough with my foreshadowing; it’s time for the story to start.