Fading Constellations
It was an impossible situation.
An impossible life.
An impossible choice.
An impossible dream.
Regulus Black lived on a basis of impossible cases and he was used to them.
Depressingly used to them.
Sometimes, he thought, impotence was his core product. From all the cells and nutrients that composed him, impotence must be the one that took up the most space in his body, for it was all he felt, all the time.
And it was not that Regulus Black did not experience life through other lenses, that from time to time he did not have to fight a smile, or a burning urge to rage out, or a silent desire to weep, it was that ultimately, all of them, sooner or later, all lead to the same outcome; impotence.
Regulus hated it. Hated it. Hated it. Hated the way it made him feel so small, so invisible, so inconsequential, so impotent.
Regulus hated. Hated so many very things. He hated hating.
Hated his mother. Hated his father. And the walls that trapped him. Hated his brother. Hated the teachers that taught him piano, violin, and english. And the way they made him a child, at any age. Hated his clothes. Hated himself. And the way he was too afraid to stop hiding behind anger.
Hated hating.
Hated his whole goddam family. Hated his brother.
His brother. His brother. His brother.
He hated
He hated
He hated
He missed him.
Hated Sirius Black.
He hated
He hated
He hated
He missed him.
But Sirius Black did not miss him.
He did not miss
Did not miss
Not miss
Miss
miss
m m m m
i i i i
s s s s
s s s s
He hated James Potter. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated. Hated him.
It had been a slow building rage that grew in size and intensity with every fuel– every fact, every word, every memory – that Sirius, unknowingly, added into the fire. It began with a simple ache, a singular needle to his heart, one Sirius, Regulus was sure, thought carried medicine but that instead, introduced the first wood for the fire; jealousy.
At first, Regulus had loved to receive news of his brother’ life at Hogwarts, had been thrilled that even when he was agonizing, drowning in the house he was supposed to call home, Sirius, at the very least, if he wasn’t there to drown by his side, was flying, so far above the water that the sea creatures – their family – could not reach him. It had elated Regulus, all of it. Every happy memory, every cracked joke, every anecdote that Sirius shared. It had lightened hope in his heart – too late did Regulus realized the light was becoming a too violent for his eyes to stare at, a raging fire; a raging hatred – the realities, the possibilities, that Hogwarts could posed for him, for them, if, as Sirius had once promised, it could become an escape.
Regulus was thrilled, even when all of Sirius’ decisions led to more pressure on his shoulders, more water in his tank: lead to hungrier, more vicious, sea monsters. Regulus was happy for his brothers; he was finally constructing the life they had dreamt too much about.
Sirius was building a new life for them.
Regulus was happy for his brother,
James Potter
He was elated for all that he was living,
James Potter
James Potter
Waited anxiously by the near muggle post, every day, for Sirius letter, even when he knew they were scarce,
James Potter
James Potter
James Potter
Memorized every word he wrote, and treasured them.
James Potter. James Potter James Potter. James Potter. James Potter. James Potter. James Potter.
Truthfully, Regulus Black could not be happier for his brother, he could not be happier for him, happier for him, happier for him—
James fucking Potter.
But he was there, again. And then, again. Again. Again. Again. He was there, in every letter, in every story, in every aspect of Sirius’ life. James Potter was bright, and generous, and funny, and witty, and caring, and brave, and handsome, and a good hugger (how was that fair?), and a good friend… a good brother, too.
Like a brother.
‘He is like a brother.’
Regulus hated him. Both of them. Hated himself, because Sirius already had a brother, but Regulus knew that he was not enough, and if he knew it, then Sirius must too, and clearly, he did, for he needed another brother.
A better one.
One who was not scared of hugging.
James Potter was the fucking sun, and he was just a star. How was he supposed to compete?
Simply, he could not.
Regulus felt his brother slipping away, like the only anchor in that cramped house was slowly drifting off. The safety line wasn't just growing thin; it had unmistakably snapped, plunging Regulus into the depths of a sea filled with the bitter waves of abandonment. Navigating through those turbulent emotions was uncharted territory; he had never learned to swim, especially not by himself. Sirius used to be a safety net, but then, he began to feel more like water, like water that brought with him monsters like James Potter, so beautiful that it was hard to label them as such.
Regulus hated.
Hated his brother.
His brother. His brother. His brother.
He hated
He hated
He hated
He missed him.
Undeniably, he missed Sirius, but the stark reality of losing him weighed heavily on his shoulders. And caused all the wrong reactions.
He never did know fire could be created underwater, but clearly, it did, for it was happening.
Regulus hated.
Hated his brother.
His brother. His brother. His brother.
He hated
He hated
He hated
He missed him.
But Sirius was not creating a life for them to escape to, he was creating one for himself. And it was perfectly curated to desert Regulus Black from it.
Regulus missed, missed, missed his brother. Missed, missed, missed all the time. It was like a part of him that was always left aching, wanting for more, empty. Missed. Missed. Missed. And he would be left feeling half empty forever, for he would always miss; miss his brother and the relationship they once had, for it would never be the same.
Never.
Never.
Never.
The fire took all the oxygen from his lungs, for it did not steal the water’s oxygen, it stole his. Regulus struggled to breathe, and he hated.
Because hating was easier than hurting.
Regulus hated.
Hated his brother.
His brother. His brother. His brother.
He hated
He hated
He hated
Because hating his brother, or James Potter by consequence, was easier than hating himself.
Than hating life.
Because how was any of it fair?
Regulus was used to impossible circumstances, and those were never fair, but he was just tired.
Hogwarts was supposed to be a breath of fresh air, but, instead, felt more like a punishment for Regulus. In there, his brother crafted a whole new life, and Regulus? Well, he struggled to find his groove in that scene. It felt like a weird twist of fate, maybe something he deserved.
It wasn't just about being happy for his brother; it was a rollercoaster of mixed emotions. Instead of cheering on his brother's joy, Regulus felt like more of a bother, someone not quite fitting into the story. There was this odd, childlike feeling – a desire to hold onto what was rightfully his and not let go. Sirius was meant to be his, and even if it seemed like Sirius might be miserable with him – even when he ultimately did–, there was this strange wish for shared misery, the kind they were supposed to endure together. Yet, tangled up in all these feelings, Regulus reluctantly got it. It was a bit of an impossible situation, an unwinnable competition. Winning at the peculiar game of being Sirius's brother was always a no-brainer for Regulus because, honestly, Sirius never had much of a choice, Regulus never had another opponent. Sirius had always only had Regulus, no real choices, but he did then, and in a weird way, Regulus understood that; understood why he had chosen James over him.
If he had the choice, he probably wouldn't want to be stuck with himself either.
He hated himself.
But he resented James Potter more, for giving his brother that choice, the chance to decide, to choose to leave. Regulus just wanted to be like James, to be the one Sirius looked up to, not down on. The constant mention of James' name got on his nerves, a reminder of tricky, underlying, comparisons. Yet, when confronted with the harsh reality, Regulus had to confront the truth – comparing them was like unraveling the seams of his very being. An authentic, underlying comparison remained a distant delusion, as Regulus could not, in good coincidence, even pretend to be anything like James Potter. He could not even feign similarities.
The warmth with which Sirius spoke of James left an ineffable weight on Regulus's heart, a weight that doubled as it stuck with the harsh truth that Regulus would never be the product of Sirius’ affection the same way James was .
In the game of comparison, the plain truth unfolded – James wasn't just taking up spots in Sirius's life that used to belong to Regulus; he was doing it so effortlessly that Regulus felt a bit left hanging. It went beyond losing those spots; James excelled in taking over. Regulus found himself sort of stuck, wrestling with the fact that not only did James grab his positions, but he did it with a skill that outshone him. The desire to be someone Sirius admired, not pitied, burned brighter as James seamlessly filled the gaps left by Regulus.
And how could Regulus compete? It was an impossible situation. How was he supposed to fight against James bloody Potter? He hated him. He hated himself. Hate hated Sirius Black.
Ha hated hating.
…
Dread.
Regulus Black had envisioned his first day at Hogwarts as very many things, had pictured it to be a picture taken from countless different angles, but never could he have predicted dread to be the predominant color.
It had been a continuous emotion that settled into his gut as the summer progressed. Slowly, like a cancer it had spread to all parts of his body, leaving him useless to feeling serotonin. For all Sirius seemed to beam, Regulus sulked.
Dread.
Regulus knew all the warnings of the sickness, had memorized them like a language that communicated his body’s state; physical and emotional. He spoke French, as a first, learned English as a need, and understood dread for survival.
That day, as Sirius dragged him through the corridors of the train, his hands felt angsty, desperate for movement, for friction, making his heart beat like a racing horse, consequentially — and the reason Regulus hated this expression of the sickness the most— forcing his chest to move up and down like a mantra his lungs recited.
They passed doors and doors, leaving behind them a trail of compartments filled with stories, people, that Regulus, at that very moment would have preferred to choose over the one he was being forced to be a part of. Regulus Black had always been an essential part of Sirius Black's life story, for many years he had been the core essence of his narration, however, lately he had started to feel like a secondary character more than anything else. It’s a realization that left Regulus empty, aching for air as he drowned in sorrow. It’s a realization that Regulus had learned to cope with.
But for all he hid the pain, for all he neglected his feelings, Regulus Black drew the line at reality. To him, it was one thing to conceptually understand his dissertation from his brother’s life, however, it was an utterly horrendous, tortuous situation, that he was being coerced into methodically understanding such a concept. Regulus Black did not need evidence to back the hypothesis he already knew to be true.
Some things were better off left unproved, Regulus thought.
Per contra, Regulus Black lived on a basis of impossible cases and he was used to them.
Depressingly used to them.
And suddenly, Sirius stopped at a halt.
“Here we are,” he beamed. Sirius smile was broad, Regulus knew he was trying to repress it, to maintain his cool, knew that Sirius had been waiting all summer for this moment, knew that his brother wanted nothing more than for Regulus to approve of his friends, “Be nice, please”
“When have you ever known me to be nice?”
“Reg, come one”
Regulus, despite himself, smiled and nodded, because to him, his brother was still an essential part of his narration. In his story Sirius Black was still a main character, and there was nothing Regulus wouldn’t do for him. Even kill himself.
Even turn himself into a martyr.
“Don’t call me that”
“Regulus, please”
“If you ask so nicely, maybe I can try”
“That’s all I am asking”
Regulus’ ears ranged as Sirius opened the compartment door, his hands shook, so he tucked them in his pants pockets to disguise his agitation. Regulus would be lying if he declared he had not spent the entirety of the summer nitpicking the realm of possibilities that could compose his meeting of Sirius’ friends. He had played it in his head time after time, night after night, day after day. He had panned it to play out in a trillion different ways, none of them to his favor. He had lost too much sleep over that moment, that one moment.
He wasn’t sure if it was worth it. He was sure it hadn;t been, afterall, he didn’t feel any more prepared to face it.
Regulus was not above lying, however he prided himself in his self consciousness, and in such effort, he was forced to recognize, too, that for all he was terrified of meeting Sirius’ friends, overall, specifically, he was anxious to meet James Potter. It was not normal, Regulus concluded, the way he had obsessed over Sirius’ best friend. He was conscious enough to know that no one spent so much time, so much energy scrutinizing every tiny, insignificant, detail they learned about a persona they had never actually met.
And Regulus Black, could also accept that he not only hated James Potter, but also, but worse, he had grown to idolize him. It was that part of him that wanted to impress the boy, that wanted to be better than him. It was that part of him that made his chest rise up and down in such a manner.
It was that part of him that, too, selfishly, wanted to meet James Potter to prove that he was not perfect. Because it was an impossible competition, and maybe, if Regulus could find all the dark parts that composed James and show them to Sirius, he would finally have a fair chance at winning.
Regulus Black was not above cheating, especially in the game that was Sirius Black’ love.
“SIRIUS!” a voice exclaimed the minute their faces showed from behind the opening door, “Merlin I missed you so much!”
The boy wasted no second, throwing himself at Sirius,, indulging him into a hug. Sirius melted in the embrace, and immediately Regulus knew that was James Potter. And the first thought that crossed Regulus’ head was the fact that Sirius had not been lying; James was a good hugger.
Regulus wanted to be hugged by James. Not that he would ever admit it. But being held by James made it look like the world ceased to exist and as long as he was there to protect him, reality could not catch up.
How was that fair?
“James I know you missed your other half, but maybe leave the private shows of affection for the bedroom, we have company” another voice interrupted, “Hi, I am Remus by the way, you must be Regulus”
Remus extended his hand for Regulus to shake but all he could do was stare at it. He never took, and slowly, awkwardly Remus retreated his hand back to his lap, looking away.
“So now you know how it felt, isn’t that karma Remus” James mocked, looking slightly red to his cheeks
“Shut up, James”
James turned his attention to Regulus. Suddenly he felt tested, suddenly he felt observed. James scanned him, looked at him for moments too long, it made regulus giddy. It made Regulus want to bolt, being scrutinized by James was not an scenario he had ever phantom.
“Marlin! You two really do look alike” he finally sentenced, chuckling, the tension in the room melting away with his laugh, “Hi Reggie, I’m James, and that’s Peter”
Peter waved.
“Don’t call me that”
“Regulus!” Sirius hissed, “you said you were going to at least try to be nice”
“It is not my fault your friend is so stupid he cannot say my name right, or even, pathetically enough, conceptualize the difference between a friend and an acquaintance, and I would even dare say we are not even that, we are strangers at best”
“I won’t even try to reason with you, I was the stupid one for asking you to be nice, now you are being mean just to spite me” Regulus smirked, Sirius sighted, “Everyone, this is Regulus, my very annoying little brother”
“And still I am taller than you”
“You are not!”
“I am younger than you, therefore I am overall taller than you even when we are currently equally tall”
“I hate you”
“No you don’t”
Sirius humphed and Peter barked out a laugh, “oh I like you, Regulus”
“You barely know me”
“You keep Sirius humble, on my book, that earns you all the points”
“I guess that is fair, I like you too Peter”
“You barely know me” Peter repeated, amused.
“You keep Sirius humble, on my book, that earns you all the points”
They laughed, and it was good. Regulus no longer had a nagging sensation on his feet, that tickled to run away. Swiftly the air could enter his lounges more comfortably, his hands could stop hibernating, and get out of the darkness of his pockets. Maybe, Regulus had turned everything into a tragedy for nothing. Maybe, and only maybe, Regulus was not a good judge of character.
“How come the people that hate me always like you?” James tagged, there was an entertained smile painting his face, however he looked at Regulus like he was the reason the world was ending, it was so sad to see and still everything Regulus ever wanted.
Regulus never claimed to be a good person.
“Maybe because I am better than you” Peter answered at the same time Remus, exasperated, uttered, “I never hated you!”
“But you resented me”
“Fuck off, James”
Regulus did not understand what was going, what that whole interaction was about. “You see Reggie-”
“Don’t call me that!”
“See James, that is why people don’t like you, you don’t know boundaries”
James flipped Peter off as he continued, “--Regulus, sorry. When Remus and I first met, he hated me, did for a long while actually, refused to be friends with me, but, and oh but, he was best friends with Peter. And here it seems to be happening again, do you hate me, Regulus?”
I do, I hate you more than anything.
I wish I did, more than anything.
I don’t. I will. I have. I hate myself.
“I hate you”
“Regulus!” Sirius punched him on the shoulder
“What? He asked”
“Oh-Okay” James looked like a hurt puppy. A puppy Regulus had just punched.
Regulus never claimed to be a good person.
I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. You stole my brother. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. You are everything I wish I was. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.
“Have I- Will you-”
I hate you. Your eyes. I hate you. The fact that you are a good hugger. I hate you. Your hair. I hate you. The fact that you make my brother happy. I hate you. Happier than I ever could. I hate you. The way you seem to be perfect. I hate you. The way I don’t hate you, not really. I hate you.
I hate myself.
“I don’t hate you, James”
…
Regulus Black considered himself to be a pessimist. Knew this to be a fact, and saw such a characteristic to be a positive aspect of his persona. He had never wanted to change this about himself. He thought it kept him tied to reality, and in his life, expecting the worst was survival, because if he never expected more, he was never disappointed. And his life had every ingredient to lead to disappointment.
Therefore, Regulus Black did not expect to meet disappointment at his brother’s hands. It was funny to think that they used to be the most tender thing he knew. It was funny to think that Regulus did not crumble under his mother’s sharp hands but under his brother’s tender hold.
And it was sad, pathetic even, Regulus thought, that he had been preparing for such an event. That he had prophesied it and still he hadn't seen it coming. Being deserted from his brother’s life hurt as much as he anticipated. But for all Regulus prepared, he could have never been prepared to see loathe in his brother’s eyes, loathe that was directed at him.
Regulus hated his brother. He hated him. Hated him. Hated him
Hated him
Hated him.
Hated fucking Sirius Black.
Hated his brother.
Hated
H H
A A
T T
E E
D D
Hated the fact he had been sorted into Slytherin.