An Inconvenient Arrangement
“It’s absolute bollocks is what it is,” Barty grumbled, pacing the length of Regulus’ bedchambers. He passed Evan on occasion in his laps and would stop to steal a grape from his bowl each time, met with minimal resistance. Regulus sighed.
“It is my purpose , Barty, you know that,” He said for about the dozenth time. “It was going to happen eventually,” He reiterated. There were only so many times he could say that before they all went mad, and he was nearing his limit. Barty stopped his pacing to scowl at him, leaning on the back of Evan’s chair. He was a very scary man when he wanted to be, touched with just enough of the Crouch family madness that he was more than capable of being unstable. With the scar that ran along one of his cheek bones, contrasting his pale skin, his messy dark hair, and deep brown eyes lined with dark liner, Regulus supposed he might’ve looked intimidating to anyone else. But to Regulus, he mostly just looked like a brooding toddler.
“Your purpose my arse,” He huffed when his intimidation didn’t work, throwing his hands up in frustration. “You’re barely twenty-one! You’re too young.” He looked to Evan for some sort of support. From Regulus’ seat on the edge of his bed, all he could see was Evan’s stark white dreadlocks. They bobbed as he nodded, agreeing easily with Barty’s point. Regulus doubted he was even listening anymore, but of course he’d agree with his husband. He didn’t blame him, either. If he didn’t there was no doubt Barty would throw a fit of epic proportions, and their bedchamber could only be redecorated so many times before people stopped believing it was simply a fashion choice.
“Barty, your mother married you off to Evan at nineteen.” Regulus pointed out, quick to call out the hypocrisy in Barty’s antics. Evan tossed a grape at him over his shoulder without bothering to move from where he was lounging in Regulus’ chair. Regulus didn’t even bother to scold him about his posture anymore, or how sitting with his legs draped over the arm of the chair was both ruining his back and his reputation. (“ What reputation ” was always the response he’d gotten anyways.) He did make a face at the thrown food, but neither of his friends took note of it. Because of course Regulus got stuck with the least proper friends imaginable. He spent his whole life perfecting his manners and reputation just to spend his free time with the least civilized people Vasiliki had to offer.
“That’s different! Me and Evan were meant to be,” Barty crossed his arms. Regulus would’ve pointed out that he hadn’t known that at the time, but he continued, “Besides, your parents want to marry you off to the first old guy they find. At least Mum looked for someone decent,” He grumbled, resuming his pacing. He was bound to walk a hole into the floor at this rate.
As much as Regulus loathed to admit it, Barty had a point there. Barty’s mother may have been a woman who was as mad as she was cruel, but she had actually looked for a suitable match. For reasons Regulus couldn’t even begin to imagine, she spent much longer than the majority of parents did when setting up an arranged marriage, actually looking beyond the piles of wealth people offered in exchange for her son. She insisted on marrying Barty to someone both age appropriate, and at least not openly abusive. Regulus could only speculate that she had done so because of what her own marriage had been like.
Barty had complained for months leading up to the wedding because his mother wouldn’t allow him to even see the person she’d picked. He’d complained about the entire arrangement, of course, but his biggest issue stemmed from the fact that he couldn’t even put a face to his demise.
In the end, all of that had flown out the window when Barty had walked down the aisle, in his green and black suit with his mother by his side, and actually laid eyes on Evan. Dark skin with darker eyes, six foot something, muscle showing even through his expensive suit. Power wafting off of him like he’d been birthed in it, something Barty found lethally attractive, and a kindness in the smile he flashed. And, of course, his signature white dreads that fell to just below his shoulders, silver charms carefully placed throughout. Regulus could practically see Barty drooling from where he’d stood as his best man.
Regulus had no doubt his own parents wouldn’t be so picky. His rushed marriage served one purpose: salvaging the family’s reputation. After they sided with Tom Riddle in the war they needed to prove to everyone that they were still loyal to Dumbledore and the High City as a whole, and that they were very apologetic for their part in everything. The narrative they were running with was that Riddle, as the king of Vasiliki, had threatened to take away the family's land and titles unless they fought alongside him.
Of course, that was far from the truth. The Black Family were as outraged as the rest of Riddle’s army when Dumbledore had handed power to the Weasleys, forming an entirely new kingdom in previously unclaimed land. They saw it as a slight to their noble blood and the ‘proper’ order of things. House Black was particularly enraged, seeing as they had been hoping to be the noble family to receive the land and its privileges, and they saw it as a horrible slight that they’d been passed up in favor of a peasant family. So Orion’s father had sided with Riddle when the war started, and now, forty years later, Regulus was paying the price.
His parents intended to marry him off to someone from the winning side of the war. The Order Of the Phoenix, as they had called themselves for whatever reason. Preferably someone who had done something particularly notable, with a suitable title of course. That way the family would be tied to whomever’s good name, allowing them to use their hard earned reputation to save their own. Unfortunately, the vast majority of the nobles Regulus’ age who had fought in the war were already married. Most of them had rushed to get married as the war started to turn, in case they died in battle. Young and foolish, he’d believed at the time. Now he wished his parents had made the same choice for him. Their decision to wait, in case Sirius died and they needed their back-up heir, meant Regulus was more likely to end up with someone who was older, like Alastor Moody. He wasn’t fond of the idea, but it was his duty, as much as Barty resented that fact.
“All of those old guys aren’t married for a reason. There’s something wrong with them. They might kill you, Reg!” Barty threw his arms up. “We can’t allow it.” He said resolutely, crossing his arms. There was that hint of crazy in his eye, a sign Regulus had long since learned meant he was ready to do something stupid. Regulus sighed again. It was about time he put an end to this nonsense. He’d let Barty monologue for long enough, and all it had done was given him a headache.
“And how do you suppose we do that?” He asked. Barty opened his mouth, but he was silenced with a wave of Regulus’ hand. “Should I run off? Go live in the forest somewhere? I would have to, if I ran. I couldn’t live in any sort of civilization, my parents would have Greyback after me in no time, and he’d just drag me back. Or maybe I should tell my parents I don’t want to do it? That would go over splendidly, wouldn’t it? ‘Hello Mother and Father. You know the single reason you conceived me? The only reason I am alive, my sole purpose and life and only value to this family? Marrying above my station and furthering our family’s name and influence? I don’t really want to. I don’t particularly feel up to it.’ Brilliant idea, Crouch. That certainly wouldn’t end up with me getting beaten within an inch of my life and married off before I could even open my eyes.” He scoffed. He shot Barty the nastiest look he could manage, which was far less intimidating than usual. His voice got weak towards the end, tears building behind his eyes. Of course he didn’t want to do it! He knew more than anyone that whoever he was married off to would likely be a monster. It didn’t matter which side of the war they’d fought on, anyone willing to marry into the Black family wouldn’t be someone he’d want to live with.
“Reg…” To his surprise it was Evan who spoke. He rose from his designated spot on the chair in front of the fireplace, knees popping, and walked over to where Regulus was still sitting on the bed. Even as he sat alone in his room with his closest friends, as safe as he’d ever be, his posture was perfect, shoulders drawn back and head tilted up so he could always, always be looking down on whoever he was talking to. He looked up to meet Evan’s black eyes, and nearly recoiled from the sadness he saw there. It reminded him of the expression he’d worn when Sirius left, a mask of pity and concern for Regulus. He swallowed around the knot in his throat. Pathetic. This whole display was pathetic.
“We all knew it was coming, Evan. I’m lucky they waited this long,” He said, voice low, and fought the urge to break eye contact. Even here, with them, he couldn’t show that sort of weakness. It was bad enough as it was that he’d nearly begun crying, he would not allow himself to embarrass himself any further. They were both being absurd about this, and their behavior had rubbed off on him. This was not worth crying over. He had known his entire life that this day would come. It was the only reason he was conceived. The only way he could do anything that mattered to his family. The bed dipped as Evan sat beside him.
“I’m so sorry, Reg,” Evan said gently, as if Regulus hadn’t spoken, and pulled him into a hug. Regulus stiffened for a moment, before forcing himself to relax into the warm embrace as he knew he should. Tears stung his eyes, and a few slipped down his face even as he fought it. Embarrassing. Pathetic. He felt Barty on his other side, hugging him from behind, and suddenly he was surrounded by the warmth and love of his friends.
Regulus was scared. He knew the feeling well. The tightening in his stomach, the ache in his lungs. The fact that his heart hurt so hard it felt like it was going to explode. He’d felt it so many times. Whenever he’d broken something as a child. When Sirius had left. When he was alone with his parents. But this was so much worse. At least he knew what to expect then, the harsh words and harsher blows. He knew now that he could stand a beating. But he had no idea what would happen when his parents found his match. He’d have to move across the continent at the very least, far from everything he’d ever known. No war hero lived in Riddle’s territory, and most stayed away even from the neighboring kingdom. He’d be lucky if his betrothed would be so close as Viridis, one of the few ‘good guys’ who hailed from somewhere where people like him were raised. Would he even have Barty and Evan with him? How could he ask them to follow him to some far unknown place? Even if it was technically their duty as his chosen court, he couldn’t ask them to abandon their home. Pandora would be with him, at least. Neither of them had much of a choice in the matter, and he was glad for it. But he was still scared. More scared than he had been in a very long time.
They stayed like that for longer than Regulus would like to admit. He knew he should not be allowing this. He did not need emotional comfort, it was beneath him in the worst of times, let alone in this situation. This was his duty. He should be overjoyed that he finally had the opportunity to serve his family the only way he can as the second born. So very few people were lucky enough to be born with a clear purpose in life, destined to flit from place to place in attempts to find where they belonged, what they were meant to do. He was lucky, really. He should be grateful. At least, that was what his parents told him.
He also knew that he should be okay with this, the comfort his friends were trying to provide. He should be comfortable enough around them to discuss how he truly felt, regardless of whether or not it aligned with what was expected of him. It would be normal, expected even, for him to break down to them the way Barty had to him when he faced a similar fate. He was safe among his friends. They wouldn’t mock him for his weakness, or report it to his parents, or use it to strip him of his status and power. He could trust them, he knew that. And he did. He trusted them with his life. He trusted them to be there with him and pick up the pieces when he invoked his parents’ wrath. He trusted them to be truthful with him, and to share his few moments of vulnerability with them. He trusted them more than almost anyone in the world.
But he could not bring himself to break down in front of them. He never fully succumbed to the tears that threatened to overwhelm him, only a few more fell before he felt that familiar wall stopping them. His mother’s voice rang in the back of his mind, demanding he stop embarrassing himself and the family. The lump in his throat grew painful, and his head ached from the suppressed tears. He remained there, stuck between two ideologies and not able to commit to either of them. Warmed by his friends’ proximity, but cold and numb from the ice his upbringing had surrounded him in. The hug only broke when there was a familiar tap tap tap on his window.
His stomach dropped.
Regulus knew who it would be before he freed himself from the embrace. It wasn’t like he received much mail. Anyone he was friends with lived within the Manor. He was right, it was Sirius’ hawk. A beautiful black bird with golden eyes and red tips on its tail feathers. That meant it was news about his suitor. It had to be. Sirius had been advising their parents on potential matches.
That was the only reason they hadn’t decided yet. Sirius used the fact that he had acted as a liaison to Prongston during the war, and had technically been on the winning side, to persuade them to let him help. He knew more soldiers than they did, after all. And they were far more likely to agree to court Regulus if Sirius asked. He was charming, and they trusted him.
All the while he was doing his best to find a way out of it, to keep Regulus unmarried for a few more years at least. But their parent’s patience wore thin, and he could only stall for so long. When they last spoke, Sirius had confided that he’d actually begun to look into potential suitors, his hope that he’d be able to thwart their parents' efforts indefinitely, finally dying out. Instead he’d turned his focus to finding a reasonable match, to influence them into pairing Regulus with someone who wasn’t entirely dreadful.
Regulus’ mind raced as he untied the letter from the hawk’s leg, leaving the bird to be pet by Barty, who cooed something about it being a 'very pretty birdy.' Sirius must have failed in holding their parents off any longer. There wasn’t any other reason he’d write. As close as he and Regulus had once been, they hadn’t been in regular contact since Sirius had left eight years ago. They were, at the start. But it wasn’t long before almost daily letters became weekly, then monthly, then had stopped entirely. The letters had started again after the war treaty was signed, with Sirius attempting to resume contact as if he hadn’t left Regulus alone and confused for years. They only spoke occasionally now, and it was almost always about his impending engagement, regardless of what small talk was sprinkled in. Regardless of how determined Sirius seemed to be about acting as if they were anything close to brothers anymore.
He perched on the arm of the chair Evan had abandoned, ignoring his Father’s voice barking at him about manners in his mind. He could be unrefined for just a moment, even if it physically pained him to do so. The scars that littered his back, in easily hidden places, burned in reminder of what happened when he was anything but perfect. He stayed on the armrest nevertheless. The idea of sitting properly in the chair was overwhelming, he needed the opportunity to stand easily when he learned of his fate. He needed to be able to flee the wretched paper in his hands and its news about his demise. Regulus held his breath as he unfurled the letter, anxiety nearly overtaking him. He ignored the undignified way his hands shook, straightening his spine reflexively. He took some comfort in the lazy sprawl of Sirius’ handwriting despite himself, and it was enough to force himself to read the letter.
‘Dearest Brother,’
Regulus rolled his eyes on instinct. Sirius never called him that, even in letters, usually opting to address all of his letters as ‘My little ickle Reggie-kins,’ no matter how many times Regulus had threatened to oust him as heir and take his place.
‘I apologize for sending this so late, I’m sure it's far past your bedtime’
There it was.
‘We both know what this letter is about. Your engagement.’
His stomach twisted into a knot, anxiety stabbing through him like a knife. If Sirius was being so straightforward it must have been truly important news. His letters were usually very long-winded, containing what were practically full conversations with himself where he responded to the things he assumed Regulus would say. As if he knew him that well. As if he knew him at all anymore. It was as infuriating as it was endearing. Regulus took a breath and forced himself to read the rest of the letter.
‘I am pleased to inform you that I have found the perfect match. I know you likely won’t believe that, so before I continue, here’s a list of his qualifications;
- He’s a decorated war hero. Very decorated. Led his own battalion, had a significant role in winning the war, practically has his own holiday dedicated to him, all of those sorts of things.
- He isn’t completely ancient! He’s only twenty-two, barely a year and a half older than you. (Still too old, in my opinion. But we should take what we can get, I suppose.)
- He’s completely fit. Like unfairly hot. I doubt there’s a person on this planet who could resist his charm. I’m pretty sure he is some sort of demigod, actually. If I wasn’t such a good brother I’d steal him myself.
- He actually tries to make a difference. A positive one. He’s a good leader to his people. He fights for worker’s rights, and tax limitations, all the stuff you used to go on about in your essays. You should hear him talk, really. It's surprising how alike you sound.
- He is from a better station than anyone else Mother and Father could possibly find. I doubt they could find a higher ranking person unless they married you off to Dumbledore himself. They haven’t a choice but to say yes, no matter how much they may dislike it.
- And, lastly, but quite possibly most importantly, he is the kindest person I have ever met. I know he will treat you well. Even though it is not a match born out of love, I truly believe you could grow to at least be happy with your life with him. Married only in name, really, but friendly.'
Relief hit Regulus like a wave, washing over him so abruptly it threatened to knock him over. Enough so that even the way Sirius had marked his list with stars in place of bullet points failed to annoy him. He felt like he could finally breathe clearly, like he was surfacing for the first time since his parents had told him he was to be engaged soon. He couldn’t believe it. Sirius had actually found him a decent match. There had to be some sort of trick. He hadn’t known Sirius to be so cruel, but he was far from optimistic. There must’ve been something else, something off about the bloke if he was unmarried. Perhaps Sirius was playing another prank, the way he had when they were young and he was bored. Perhaps the next page would start with ‘Gotcha! ’ in big bold letters, followed by paragraphs of taunting. He turned the page, scanning the letter for the catch.
‘Now, I know what you’re thinking. Sirius is literally the best person ever! He’s so smart and handsome. Truly, the best brother I could have asked for. The kindest, most generous…’
It went on like that for almost another page, so you can’t blame Regulus for skipping over it.
‘ I completely agree with you, of course, but there is something more important you should be focusing on. Who could this perfect mystery bloke possibly be? Well…
You have to remember I have been searching for months . He is the best option, I swear to Fate. All those things I said about him are more than true. I know that you may find this hard to believe, but I have truly exhausted every other option. I want what is best for you. And, well, I think this may be it. You will be safe. You will have money, and all the nice things you are used to having. You will be allowed, encouraged, even, to pursue your interest in politics and writing. We will be close to each other again. And he won’t take advantage of you, I can guarantee it. I know what our parents have taught you, but he is not like that.
This is the best option, Reg. You have to believe me.
All of that being said, I will cut to the chase. Drumroll please…Your future fiancé is none other than…
His Highness, Heir to the Prongston thrown,
James Fleamont Potter.’
Regulus’ stomach dropped yet again. Any relief he’d felt before disappeared, and he was being pulled back under. Like Sirius had pulled him up from the drink, only to place his hands on his shoulders and hold him down himself. Drawing air to his lungs became a difficult task, the weight of his reality pressing on him again. Sirius couldn’t be, well, serious. James Potter was just about the most insufferable man Regulus had ever met. They hadn’t interacted since Regulus was thirteen, a fact he was grateful for. The singular good thing that came from Sirius moving to Prongston was Potter’s absence. He and Sirius had made Regulus’ life hell through their entire childhoods, causing some sort of trouble at every ball and gala they’d attended. He was arrogant, cocky, dense, and completely infuriating.
Regulus would rather be married to anyone else. He’d rather spend the rest of his life married to Tom Riddle himself.
There was no way the things Sirius had spoken about in the letter were true. Potter was far from kind. He had no problem stealing away Regulus’ brother, and he had never considered the way his actions had affected the people around him. He had no regard for the fact that every time he convinced Sirius to cause some sort of chaos it only led to him being beaten, starved, or locked up. He never cared that all he did was hurt the two brothers. Whatever he was doing politically was likely not borne from true belief in those things. He wasn’t sure Potter was capable of complex thought. He had never thought his stupid schemes through, attempting to pull off half-baked pranks that were sure to fail. The only reason he and Sirius had ever succeeded was because of Lupin and his sharp wit.
Worst of all was the way Potter strutted around as if he owned every place he went, as if he were the heir to the High Throne rather than a prince to his own kingdom. He behaved as if he knew everything one could know, as if his whims were the only thing that truly mattered in the world. He and Sirius were so tied up in each other and their stupid ideas that it blinded them to everything else. Potter was so self absorbed he failed to recognize anyone he didn’t deem worthy. He lived his life as if he, Lupin, Sirius, and Pettigrew lived in a universe all to themselves. As if Regulus didn’t even exist. His brown eyes had skipped over Regulus every time he surveyed a room, never bothering to greet him the way he had everyone else, and he seemed completely oblivious to the fact that Regulus was even a living, breathing person. He treated him as if he were some second class citizen, only worth acknowledging when he got in the way of their fun. He had no problem stepping into Regulus’ place besides Sirius, becoming his brother as if he didn’t already have one. James Potter was a cruel, narcissistic person, who thrived only because he somehow managed to charm everyone around him.
In short, Regulus could not stand him.
His eyes dropped to the bottom of the letter, past three more paragraphs trying to persuade him this was a good idea, and caught on what must’ve been the worst sentence he’d ever read. A sentence so dire he wished his parents had subscribed to the notion that since he was only meant for marriage he oughtn’t know how to read.
‘We’ll arrive in two days. I want to tell Mother and Father in person.’