Summer 1974
Kreacher was there when they got through the front door- as always. Thank Merlin.
Reg pushed away the panic of last summer- of thinking his old friend left in this house had been killed- of thinking it was his fault. Walburga hadn’t killed Kreacher- though the elf said it took nearly two months to heal the broken bones- even with magical help. That was Reg’s fault. He spent all of Christmas break apologizing- but Kreacher was having none of it. And Walburga hadn’t stopped Regulus and Kreacher smiling and talking. Especially when she was out of the house. Just stopped Regulus from doing chores. Around her anyway. Her strict rules only succeeded in making both Sirius and Regulus sneakier.
Sirius tried to smile at Regulus as they stepped into the house together behind their mother.
“Isn’t she in a right mood? Old bag.” Sirius joked.
But Regulus glanced after their mother- and thought of her tight, strained face, of the grey hairs streaking her black bun, of the deep circles under her eyes.
“They’re under a lot of stress.” he went inside, not waiting for Sirius.
“Wait Reg!” he heard a thunder of footsteps behind him. God, couldn’t Sirius ever be quiet? The slap of battered doc martens (how were his boots in such a state?) grated on Regulus’ nerves.
“What kind of stress- what do you know? Is it the war?”
Reg snorted. “What do you know about the war?”
“A bit actually. What do you know about it?” Sirius folded his arms stubbornly. They eyed one another, still standing in the hallway. This was dangerous- to discuss it here.
Then Regulus noticed he was about a centimetre or so taller than Sirius. He felt a little better, though it wasn't as if his height meant anything.
“Why would I tell you? You’ll just take it straight back to your blood traitor mates.” Regulus scoffed. The twist of jealousy from James Potter was still lurking in his heart. It was all Potter’s fault for stealing his brother away in the first place. It was Potter’s fault they weren’t on the same side anymore.
“Oi!” Sirius opened his mouth again, then closed it and sighed. He ran his hand through his hair (shoulder-length by now) but it wasn’t cocky- just …empty. “When did we go from us vs them to you vs me?”
For once, Sirius didn’t sound like a cocky brat. He sounded just like how Regulus felt- tired. Age thirteen and fourteen and they sounded weary with life.
Regulus turned away, unable to stand the stab in his chest that image gave him. He wanted to go up to his room and cry. He wanted to read until he fell asleep. He wanted to duel and kick and scream. He wanted to tear everyone limb from limb and leave only him on the earth- and maybe Kreacher. He wanted to hug his brother and stroke that stupid hair and tell Sirius it would all be okay. He wanted to kill someone. He wanted to throw himself off a cliff and hide under his bed like he used to do as a kid. He wanted to clean- just for something to do with his hands. He wanted to build a blanket den and sit there with his older brother. He wanted someone to stroke his hair and tell him it would be okay.
Instead, he just turned away and walked away from Sirius. He focused on breathing and forced every emotion out of his mind. Blank. A clean slate. Think of a blank piece of paper- no thought, no feeling, he told himself. His mask was back.
None of this matters.
At dinner, Regulus sat down at the table as he was expected to. He felt a small kick under the table. Sirius. He didn’t look up.
“How is school Regulus?” asked Orion.
“Fine. I am enjoying potions and history of magic.”
“History of magic is for weaklings- no point learning about all that failure, when you could be doing good now,” said Orion forcefully. Regulus made a mental note to never mention History of Magic again in front of them.
Walburga lifted her glass, her face set, oddly smug. Sirius was watching.
His father glared at him, so Regulus lifted his glass too and clinked against his parents. He didn’t exactly know what they were toasting to. But the smile from his mother was enough to make it feel right.
Sirius didn’t lift his glass. He stared at Reg the whole time. His grey eyes were wide, his face pale. Reg tried to ignore it, but Sirius wasn’t making this easy. Their parents started talking more politically, more offensively. Mudblood and blood traitors and rights of the ancient families.
After dinner, Sirius grabbed him.
“Do you really believe that? That rubbish about blood status?” There was a wild look in Sirius’ eye. A panic.
Sirius shook him hard. “Reg!”
“So what if I do? Maybe it’s the right idea about all this” Reg waved his hand about, indicating the house.
Sirius dropped him like Reg had scalded him. The look of shock was so much that Regulus had the urge to laugh and cry all at once.
“What?” Reg said irritably, pulling away, crossing his arms.
“B-but you’re not one of them Reg,” Sirius whispered.
“No Sirius. You’re not one of us. Not anymore.” Regulus turned away again- why was it always him who walked away first? He left Sirius standing again. Lost.
The next day, Sirius wasn’t there at breakfast. A tight fist squeezed Reg’s heart for nearly an hour. Why wasn’t he here? Had Walpurga heard them talking? Punished Sirius? All of the anger from yesterday melted into worry.
Regulus bit his lip so hard he could taste blood in the tea he drank.
Questions swirled in his mind- a great foaming pit.
“W-where’s Sirius?”
“Sirius won’t be staying with us for the rest of the summer.” Walburga didn’t even look up from the newspaper.
“Why? Is he in the hospital? Is he…”
She sighed as if Regulus was a great cause of suffering. “Don’t talk nonsense Regulus. He’s staying with the Potters.”
“Why?”
“No more questions, Regulus.” Her voice sharpened.
Regulus shut up quickly, but more questions ran through his mind. Why was Sirius at the Potters? Surely their parents weren’t happy about that. When did he leave? How did he get there? Did Walburga get in touch with Mrs Potter somehow? Why was Sirius still getting his own way, after everything? How was any of this fair?
Regulus moped around. He somehow missed Sirius. Their precious 6 weeks together had only lasted 1 day. One day where they had had two fights and both times Regulus had walked away from his brother and left him alone. No wonder Sirius left.
Regulus just wished he didn’t want to go with him.
That summer, Regulus read the whole of the Black family library. Hundreds of books. He wished he could step inside the books sometimes, become even the most loathsome character. He read when he woke up, got dressed and ate. He read walking up and down the halls and around the garden. He read for endless hours in the library. He read in bed until he was fighting his own drooping eyelids. He read underneath the covers with a muggle torch, and the tented covers almost felt like a den. The only thing missing was the laughter.
Regulus began to lose hope in ever capturing that feeling again.
One day, about a week after Sirius had disappeared (Regulus half-believed they had killed him) he received a note, tied to his owl, Astra's leg. It was very short, but the loop on the "S" was unmistakable. Sirius.
History of Magic is my favourite too.
S.O.B
Regulus soaked up every word. He held the crumpled paper just so he could get away from the gloominess and strange meetings and the dark in every corner of Grimmauld place.
Strangers started to arrive, disappearing into locked rooms with his parents. Regulus wasn’t invited. He wasn’t particularly political, but the curiosity was overwhelming and he suddenly wanted to be in on this secret, just to get behind the locked doors.
Sometimes he thought the darkness would swallow him whole.
Sometimes he wished it would.
On the first of September, Reg stood by the door, waiting for Kreacher to bring his trunk downstairs. Walburga stalked up to him.
“Do well this year, Regulus. We are counting on you.”
Regulus wasn’t sure if there was meant to be danger in her voice but there definitely was.
“You are the future of this house, understand? You and no-one else”
Her hand closed on his shoulder like they were posing for a painting.
Oh, he understood, alright. They were threatening (promising?) to make him the sole heir of the noble and most ancient house of black.
And he didn’t still even want it.