Prologue
Summer Before Fifth Year
Regulus could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage, as he sat in the living room of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, his posture ramrod straight. Shoulders pulled taut, and his breathing even with considerably more effort than it usually takes. It had been over six weeks since Sirius escaped the clutches of Grimmauld Place, taking away what little light he had in these halls, with him. He had dragged his broken, bleeding brother to the Floo with his belongings, promising to follow him, without being able to. Now, he only had the thought of how he must've been coping.
He could still feel the twitch in his back and the sting in his leg from when mother had caught him before he could follow his brother. When she had unleashed a wrath like never before from her wand. He'd lost count of the crucios he had obtained. She'd broken a bone in his ankle and his wrist was badly sprained. He'd lost a lot of blood from the lacerations he had faced. Hell, he'd lost an eye to it.
He had lost consciousness by the time her mother's rage had made him half-blind. But when he woke up, he could feel his entire body in pain. It was bad. The worst that he had ever experienced. But the worst, unbearable pain was on the left side of his face. He had cried out in pain when he registered the pain on his face. Almost passed out from it. When he regulated his breathing, he'd called for Kreacher to help heal him. But the elf had remorsefully denied him. He'd been forbidden to heal any part of his body by his mother, who had left the house with father and would not be home for some time.
Eventually, after almost a week, he was worse than he'd ever been. He was sure he had a fever from an infection from some part of his body. Kreacher couldn't feed him but he got him water and fresh juice to keep him alive. The day his parents returned, and Kreacher healed him, it wasn't enough. He had to be taken to a private healer to fix him up. He healed him almost completely but when he reached his eye, nothing seemed to work. He'd become blind in it. The healer said if he was healed soon after the injury, his eye would have pulled through, but of course he was unaware of the torture style of Walburga Black.
Ever since then, his mother had left him alone. Father had thrown a fit over her blinding his remaining heir, but she had stood firm. Saying he was already pathetic and inept for the role of heir. The loss of an eye wouldn't hurt their house any more than he himself would. He'd grown used to such comments though, so oh well. At least, she left him alone now.
It took him a while to get used to seeing the milky white-grey colour of his left eye, and the scar that went through it, starting from above the arch of his eyebrow, down to the edge of his nose. His balance had taken a hit with being unable to see, his vision affected in the way it was. He had to rely on his hearing to get used to having such a huge blind spot. He wondered if he should wear a patch across his eye to look like a pirate from those silly muggle stories Sirius would read to him, having acquired them from Uncle Alphard.
Thinking about his brother brought back the questions that had been coursing through his mind, the on repeat doubts and anxieties that made his skin itch and kept him up at night.
Were the Potter's treating him well?
Stupid thought. Of course they were. He very well knew how well the Potter's must be caring for him. Like the second son they'd always wanted. He was being paranoid.
Was he wondering where he was?
Maybe it was selfish of Regulus to hope that his brother was, at least a little worried. He had spent days and weeks thinking about him. Hoping he could come save him. But he'd been delusional. Of course his parents wouldn't let their last option leave and disgrace them. He only hoped he could find a way to discreetly meet his brother in the new school year.
Would James care that he was half-blind now? Would he be disgusted? Would-
He quickly shut that line of thinking down. He was overthinking. He knew James loved him with all his heart. He would turn the world over for him and he would do the same for him. But he wouldn't think of him here. He didn't want to taint their memories by thinking of him in this cursed house.
Did his brother think he had lied to become their perfect Heir?
He hoped he didn't. Because he hadn't lied. He wanted to be with his brother more than anything. He wanted to get out of this hellscape but he knew he had lost his chance. At least for this break. Maybe he could leave with Sirius and James to the Potter's for Christmas break? Easter?
He'd devise a plan with his brother when he got to Hogwarts.
Did he miss him?
He hoped he did. He hoped being free and with his real family didn't overshadow Regulus’ place in his life, but he couldn't really be sure.
He couldn't think like that though. Sirius had promised him in first year, after they'd had a falling out for the first term, that he could never replace him. Would never. He'd said he would always be his little brother, whom he loved to his bones. That had to mean something. Right?
God, he hoped it did.
He was broken out of his thoughts as Kreacher popped into the sitting room with a tea set ready. His mother had called for him to join her for his last day before returning to school, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread growing in the pit of his stomach.
He checked his Occlumency shields to ensure that they were raised high. As impenetrable as he could make them. As he had been practising with Evan to make them. He regulated his breathing to keep his body in as much control as possible.
His mother started a conversation as they were both served tea. He drank a sip from the cup that had been placed before him, as his mother did the same. She asked him about his plans for the fifth year, and his thoughts about becoming Prefect. He answered everything perfectly until his cup was finished.
He was about to ask to be excused to finish packing (though he already had, he was too anxious to return), when his mother filled his cup once again. She reached into her robes and revealed a clear vile that glinted in the light of the fireplace. She uncorked it and poured it in his tea before pushing it towards him. She was rolling her wand in her fingers where it was placed on the table.
A warning.
His blood ran cold. He knew what was about to happen and he wanted nothing more than to scream, cry and run away. But he knew. She would rather kill him than let him run. He had to drink. He prayed he could play dead convincingly enough. If he was injured enough, maybe he could fake his death and pass through the floo. Maybe she wouldn't even notice. Maybe-
A stinging hex to his arm brought his focus back to the present. His mother stared at her with her usual cold gaze, lips tight in a flat line, almost a grimace. Like she was disgusted by her own child.
He swallowed down the bile along with the scalding tea, finishing it in two sips. She wouldn't leave him until he drank it all anyway. Besides, his burnt tongue is going to be the least of his worries soon.
“Do you plan to keep contact with the traitor at Hogwarts?”, she asked. No preamble then.
He fought to keep his answers down. He knew it was pointless, but he couldn't not fight either, despite knowing it was a losing battle.
“Yes.”, he blurted out.
She hummed, non-committal.
“Do you plan on staying and taking the heirship of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black?”
“No.”
Another hum.
“Would you be willing to marry a pureblood woman? Birth heirs?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I'm gay.”
Silence. He closed his eyes and prepared himself for the curse he knew was coming. It still didn't help. He shuddered and collapsed on the floor as thousands of white hot needles pricked into his skin. The feeling of his muscles being torn apart piece by piece, followed the feeling of his bones being broken repeatedly.
His mother usually held the curse for a few seconds before letting up and taking multiple rounds. This didn't seem to be her plan tonight. She kept him for must've been hours but as the curse eventually stopped and his body shuddered from the strain and aftershocks, he saw it had been over three minutes.
His mother was being unpredictable.
The fact left a shock of ice cold fear down his spine.
Without giving him more than a moment of reprieve, his mother entered his mind easily. His walls must have been brought down during the torture. Usually she was much more graceful about legilimency. It seemed as though she had lost all sense of patience at this point.
She dug through his memories looking for what he kept hidden tight under the roof of this house. However, the curse seems to have made his defences as weak as his body. He couldn't fight no matter how much his mind protested and eventually she found her way in.
The memories he had kept hidden away flooded his mind as his mother rifled through them.
Meetings in the Astronomy Tower. Picnics in the Forest. Passionate kisses in supply cupboards. Waking up to sunkissed, glowing, golden skin under his pale fingertips. Flying around the pitch in the dark. Hidden smile and feverish glances. Stargazing and sweet sex. Bright laughter and the soul of a sun. His Sun. His James.
He cried out when her mother pulled out of his mind, as frantically as she had entered. He closed his eyes as he waited for the screaming. For the Unforgivable. The final one, he had never faced. He couldn't stop the tears that slipped through his eyes and down his temple. He was going to die. And he didn't want to.
He wanted to have cheeky fights with Sirius. He wanted to roll his eyes at Barty and Evan's idiocies. He wanted to argue with Dorcas. He wanted to study with Pandora. He wanted to discuss a book with Remus. He wanted to play chess with Peter. He wanted to be bitchy and gossip with the Marlene, Mary and Lily.
He wanted to hold the sun in his arms.
Please. I'm not done with him yet. Just a bit more time please.
When no spell hit him, he opened his eyes to see his mother staring down at him with a tight smile on her face. It looked more like a grimace. But she looked pleased nonetheless, so he knew whatever she had planned would be worse than death.
The thought of begging for it crossed his mind but before he could, his mother pressed her heel into his chest and pointed his wand at his head.
Maybe he wouldn't have to beg after all.
“As I suspected. Not to worry, I won't make the same mistake I did with the first one.”
His eyes widened as he heard the spell leave her lips, before glazing over.
His last thought before he lost himself was of his star and his sun.
I hope I can see you again. I hope I can remember you again.