seventeen

Regulus black -

"they only want you when you're seventeen."

regulus is turning seventeen in seven minutes. the dark lord is downstairs, in the main banquet hall of malfoy manor. regulus is expected down in two minutes time. he will be given the dark mark the second he becomes of age. he will be the youngest death eater yet.

he feels sick.

when he was younger, much, much younger, he and sirius used to talk about their seventeenth birthdays. sirius would take regulus with him the moment his trust fund came in. they would go to the ministry, and get walburga and orion arrested. regulus tries to not let the fact that he never saw sirius turn seventeen sneak into his mind. 

he dry heaves into the gold-plated toilet once more - because of course lucius malfoy has gold-plated toilets - before standing and brushing nonexistent lint off of his robes. he can't put it off any longer. he will be punished if he is late.

the halls are covered in dark drapes showing the emblem that will soon be burned onto regulus' forearm. portraits of long-dead malfoys scrutinize him, some huffing at the presence of a black in the ancestral home, some nodding in barely visible approval. regulus stares at his feet. he wishes the ground would open up and let him fall into an endless hole. 

when he reaches the door, he considers running. if he could just get out of the gates, he can legally apparate away. if he could just get to sirius, maybe he could go to the ministry, give them information in exchange for being let off from imprisonment. he doesn't have the dark mark yet, maybe he could-

no. how stupid of him to think such dishonorable things. he is heir to the most noble and ancient house of black. regulus refuses to think about what that implies.

he will not run away now.

not like sirius did. 

besides, it is too late to escape now. the doors have opened.

he walks in silently, not looking directly at the dark lord to avoid seeming disrespectful. he is the pureblood son. he will not bring disgrace on his family. his mother and father look far prouder than he has ever seen them look. he can hear their voices in his head. yes, thats right, regulus. good child, regulus. not like your brother, regulus. don't you dare dishonor this family, regulus.

narcissa is sat to the left of her husband. she is gritting her teeth, and regulus can tell she is fisting her hands. she is barely holding back tears. when she meets his eye, a single one drops. bellatrix gives her a harsh look. regulus looks away. he doesn't want to cause his cousin problems. she doesn't deserve this.

but he does.

he kneels before the dark lord, and copies the oaths he says. voldemort sends him a twisted grin, before casting the spell.

morsmorde.

regulus clenchs his jaw. he will not scream. his arm shakes slightly, and he watches with a horrible fear as a black serpent is carved into his skin. he resists the urge to call out sirius' name. his brother promised to always protect him. where is he now?

the dark lord nods, pleased with his resilience. he dismisses regulus, and he walks over to stand behind his parents. they look immeasurably smug. 

regulus can hear his brothers voice. it sounds as if he is right next to him, but sirius has never said these words to him.

silly little reggie. should have run while you had the chance, shouldn't you? you know they only want you when you're seventeen.

he knows fake sirius is right. he should have. but now he is stuck, lyal to man he hates, forever bound to another person who holds the strings in regulus' life, with the power to just, cut them.

regulus is so tired. he is so angry. he wants to clutch his forearm and scream. he wants to claw at the marked skin. he wants to cut it out, burn it off. he wants to cry and rage at how unfair all of this is. but he doesn't. he stands there, obediently.

quietly.