Intro
Regulus Black was not a stupid person. In fact, he was actually quite smart. Never got anything less than a ninety-five in any of his classes, current or past. He studied, he turned in assignments early, he had attempted to tutor other students but, well, that ended horribly due to a lack of social skills, patients and overall ability to teach. But not only that, he was also people smart. He's never met anyone he couldn't read, never once has he come across a glint in an eye he couldn't recognize, a crease in skin he couldn't decipher, a lie he couldn't catch. He just- knew. He could read a room, pick up on sarcasm or a joke. Despite what others may think, he could sense emotion(even if he'd rather peel off his skin than feel one).
In summary, Regulus Black was smart. So how on Earth had he thought this was a good idea?
Walburga scoffed. "You're being ridiculous, Regina."
Regulus ignored the unbridled fear and surge of absolute despair rushing through him. He forced himself to continue, follow through with this- whatever this was, but on a brave face for once in his goddamned life. "I'm not, Maman."
His mother narrowed her gaze, eyes flashing. "Excuse me?"
Regulus tried not to gag around the bile of terror in his throat because he knew what that meant. Sure, until this past year, he hadn't quite had that look pinned on him - the malice, the fury, the danger. No, that had always been Sirius. Sirius, who never knew when to stop. Sirius, who always one-upped Regulus' mistakes so he'd never be on their parents' bad sides. Sirius, who abandoned him at first chance.
Regulus swallowed and continued, in spite of the alarm bells ringing in his head, tolling to the sound of danger, danger, danger again and again. "I'm not a girl, Maman."
"That's nonsense. I've birthed you, I gave you life, I carried you for nine months, I've raised you for all sixteen years of your life. You have always been - and always will be - a girl. Wherever did you pick up the idea that you are simply not?It is physically impossible and utter ludicrousy!"
Regulus shrank in his chair, wanting nothing more than to disappear under the dinner table just to be out of her sight.
"Sit up straight." Walburga demanded.
Regulus' posture righted immediately, on its own accord. "I- I know it may not look it, but I am. I may have been born a girl and living as one for a long time but for nearly just as long, I've known it's not right. I'm stuck, born in the wrong body. I have the looks of a girl - something I wish to change - but I feel like a boy. I am a boy. Does- does that make sense?"
"No," Walburga said sharply. She rose, slamming her hands down on the table and leaning across, towering over Regulus, who fought the instinctive urge to disappear. "Have you been interacting with that disgusting excuse of a brother you have? Did he tell you this? Or is this some desperate attempt to fill the space your father left behind? Or was this the workings of your little friends?What brought this on, Regina?" Then suddenly, so sudden Regulus nearly got whiplash, Walburga softened, her eyes growing wide and gaining a wet film of tears. She reached out gently, tucking a loose strand of long hair behind Regulus' ear, fingers chilling. "Who's trying to change you, darling? Is there someone manipulating you into believing you're someone you aren't?"
Regulus blinked. "No- no, Maman. This is me-"
"Shhhhhh," Walburga whispered. "Don't listen to them, darling. You're my Regina, my beautiful, lovely daughter with so much potential. You're going to make a great actress one day, darling, if you keep being yourself. Don't let them change you, don't let them take the you from you," she leaned down and pressed a frozen kiss to Regulus' forehead. "I love you, Regina Ayra Black. Don't forget that."
She stood suddenly and swept out of the room without so much as a glance back.
Regulus folded forward, shaking as tears sprung to his eyes. He slammed the hilt of his palm against his temple, hard enough that, surely, his brain was bouncing around inside his skull. Maybe, just maybe, it'd find the brain cells he'd lost when thinking that telling Walburga fucking Black that he was different would have gone anything other than shit.
You see, Regulus' problem was that he wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe in the soft, gentle act his mother had just put on, he wanted to drown in that comfort. But he couldn't because it was just that. An act. She was good at that, putting on an mask, almost to a terrifying point. But why shouldn't she be? After all, Walburga Black had been being paid to put on acts of all different types for years. It's her fucking job!
Regulus took a breath, feeling it rattle in his rib cage. He scrubbed roughly at his cheeks, shoving tears away. He gathered the fraying strands of his emotions - bleh - and stuffed them in a box, shoving them under a loose mental floor board to sit there and gather dust. He didn't have time to process all his mommy issues right now(yes, he's aware he's got problems. He'd be an idiot to think so and, as previously established, Regulus Black was no idiot). Instead, he had a very important meeting with his pillow and his favourite playlist, 'Here and Queer(but wishing I wasn't)', that he simply couldn't miss.
Regulus sighed and stood, gathering the dirty dishes from dinner and heading to the kitchen. As happily as he would just leave them there, he couldn't. That would make whatever Walburga had brewing ten times worse.
Regulus stumbled down the stairs, utterly exhausted from the night before(if he didn't go to bed until one AM for undisclosed reasons that was nobody's business but his). His eyelids felt weighed down by bricks and his bag dug into his shoulder as he trudged into the kitchen. He dropped it carelessly on the counter and grabbed a mug from the cupboard, immensely grateful he had the foresight to set the timer for the coffee pot last night. He eagerly poured a cup, not bothering to put anything in it before raising it to his lips.
Though, before he could take a sip, Walburga swooped in a snatched the cup from his hands, carelessly letting the scalding liquid tip over the edge and splash across his skin.
Regulus yelped, sucking on his hand to try and soothe the burn. Walburga smacked him upside the head. "You're not a baby, Regina. Take your hand out of your mouth, it's disgusting."
Regulus complied, muttering an apology.
"Speak up. Blacks do not mumble."
"Sorry, Maman."
Regulus forced his face blank as he grabbed a new cup.
"You have you maths exam next week." Walburga stated, not a question but Regulus felt compelled to answer anyways.
"Yes, Maman."
"You dropped a grade last year. I expect that to be rectified, this time around."
"I got a 96 last year."
"Do not argue with me, Regina. You got a 97 the year before, I know you can do better so do it."
Between sips of coffee, Regulus fluttered around the kitchen, tossing random things in his bag for a lunch, considering the cafeteria food sucked ass and was heavily overpriced(not that Regulus didn't have the money to throw around but there were much, much better things he could do with his fortune).
"You need to change." Walburga said suddenly as Regulus was preparing to head out the door.
He blinked, glancing down at himself. He was in simple trousers and a sweater, the exact same thing he'd been wearing for the entirety of the school year. "What's wrong with this?"
She nodded at the window, indicating outside. "The temperature's heating up. You're going to be boiling in that."
Regulus cocked his head. Since when did she care about that? As long as he didn't go out looking like a 'homeless person' - her words, not his - she never paid any mind.
Walburga pointed to a bag on the counter, one Regulus hadn't opened, thinking it wasn't for him. Slowly, he walked over and peered inside, seeing nothing but a black clump of fabric. He glanced up in confusion but Walburga nodded, urging him on. Regulus pulled it out and unfolded it, feeling his stomach drop as he realized what it was. "Oh."
A skirt. A goddamn fucking skirt.
"'Oh'?" Walburga scoffed. "Don't just stand there, you're going to be late. Go change. And leave the sweatshirt, too. It's far too thick."
Regulus swallowed but nodded, trudging back up the stairs. His hands shook the entire time it took him to change, leaving him feeling incredibly uncomfortable and exposed. Regulus stared at his reflection in the mirror afterwards, looking the exact opposite of what he was. Long black hair, chest more prominent in just a dress shirt, dainty fingers he tried to hide behind thick silver rings, highly feminine legs on full display because of a stupid, even more feminine piece of clothing. He stared at his reflection, fighting off desperate tears with every fraction of himself, the pit of self loathing in his chest growing larger by the second.
"Regina!" Walburga shouted up the stairs.
"Coming!" Regulus called back, cringing at the waver in his voice. He snatched up his bag, headphones, phone and bus pass before descending the stairs.
Walburga smiled when she saw him, teeth flashing in a way Regulus hated. She stepped forward and cupped his face, speaking softly. "Oh, there you are. Much better, my darling daughter."
The pit grew even larger still as Walburga kissed his forehead. "Go on."
Regulus didn't have to be told twice. He slipped on his shoes and left, shoving his headphones on and attempting to suffocate his thoughts with music loud enough that could be heard by those around him.
Behind him, someone wolfwistled. Regulus scowled and hugged his book tighter. God, he forgot how fucking annoying people could be.
It had been the same thing again, and again, and again all fucking day at he was just barely half-way through. Logically, he knew he was attractive but my god, how many times does he have to flip someone off for them to take a hint? Though no one has asked him out face-to-face, he's received six separate notes demanding a date(two in his first period class, four in his second) and at least eight whistles just walking through the halls. He was so fucking done.
Unfortunately, life could never be that easy and grant him mercy for once.
"Hello, Black," said the grating, excruciating voice of Nikolai Mulciber as he cut Regulus off, leaning back on the lockers in front of him.
"What the fuck do you want, Mulciber?" Regulus snapped.
You see, for some fucking reason, Nikolai Mulciber was someone. He wasn't an athlete by any means, he wasn't intelligent in the slightest, he wasn't in band or apart of the drama department. He didn't have any notable personality, either. Do you know when you try to open a package but the cardboard doesn't rip away right, making a terrible fucking sound and the package near impossible to open? Well Mulciber was the human equivalent to that. No one really knows where Mulciber got his popularity or how he's managed to keep it or how the fuck he got the friends he has. He just- appeared one day and made a name for himself. Not a very good one, mind you, but a name nonetheless.
"You're lookin' good today." Mulciber continued, ignoring Regulus' question completely.
"Really?" Regulus said flatly. "I had no idea."
Mulciber chuckled and nearby, his buddies chuckled along with him. "You're funny."
"I'm about to rip your fucking tongue out if you don't tell me what the fuck it is that you want."
For some reason, Mulciber seems to find this funny too. "Feisty today, eh? How about you keep that energy up and we do something about it later tonight?"
"Not even if it would cure cancer." Regulus snarled, walking around Mulciber and tripping him as he goes.
Regulus heard Mulciber curse and fall to the floor. He heard his buddies have mixed reactions, some laughing and some lunging forward to help Mulciber up. Regulus didn't care. He just kept walking, only stopping once to try and pull the skirt down to cover more without any real luck.
He slammed open the cafeteria doors, mood darkening even further still by the sheer amount of noise. He weaved between tables, attracting gazes as he went. He scowled all the way to his typical table, throwing his shit down on the floor and plopping down into a chair. His friends stared as he dropped his forehead to the table, squeezing his eyes shut in a pathetic attempt to make the whole world disappear.
"Reg?" Pandora asked tentatively.
Pandora Rosier, Regulus' best friend since fifth grade when she and her brother transferred to Regulus' elementary school. No one would talk to her, and her bodyguard type brother by extension, but Regulus had been paired with the two of them for a Social Studies project and found out they weren't quite as bad as people thought they were. Sure, Pandora was eccentric and Evan was a bit intimidating but, well, take a look at the Blacks. It's not like Regulus had any room to judge.
Regulus groaned as a response.
She made a small noise and gently rubbed between his shoulders.
"Let me guess, no choice?" Evan murmured.
Evan Rosier, Pandora's twin brother, older by a minute and a half. Quiet, broody and, as previously mentioned, a bit intimidating at first glance, especially to those who pick on Pandora. The two of them, like Regulus, were children of rich actors, which is the only reason why he knows Walburga approved of them. Like Regulus, they were also expected to follow in their parents footsteps. Like Regulus, they weren't peeved about having their future planned for them. Pandora especially likes musicals, where she can be a background character but still get to dance and sing like the leads. Evan was a completely different person in a theatrical setting, and not just in the sense of disappearing into a role. He was more open, more chaotic, louder. He wasn't picky about the roles he played - leads, background, antagonists - and he played them all just as well as the last.
Regulus raised his head just enough so he could glare at him over the table. "No, I decided to be as feminine as possible today of my own volition. It's not like it's my own personal hell or anything."
Evan winced. "Right. Stupid question."
A hoodie was draped over Regulus' extended arms. He shifted his gaze over to Barty with a raised brow.
"Just take it, Reg." Barty said firmly.
Barty Crouch Jr., the first and only person Regulus had tried to tutor. They couldn't get anything done, and not just because of Regulus' abilities, or lack thereof. No, Barty simply had the tendency to wreak havoc everywhere he went. Not only that, he was the most stubborn person Regulus had ever met - himself included. Everything Barty did, he did out of spite for his father. Bartemius Crouch Sr. wanted Barty to be graduate with honors so Barty purposefully got low 60s, despite being an extremely intelligent motherfucker. Crouch Sr. wanted Barty to go into politics like he had, so Barty was determined to focus on the arts - visual, dramatic and musical. Crouch Sr. wanted someone quiet and friendly so Barty decided to be chaos personified.
"Thanks." Regulus mumbled, pulling the hoodie over his head. He tucked up his knees and hid those in the fabric as well. He pulled the hood up and tugged on the drawstrings so only his eyes were visible.
Barty turned to Evan and gave him a blinding smile, batting his eyelashes pleadingly. "Hey Evan-"
"No." Evan denied instantly.
Barty gaped at him. "You don't even know what I was gonna say!"
"I can guarantee that it was something ridiculously stupid, if not illegal. So, no."
Barty covered his heart and gasped with offence. "Do you truly think so little of me?"
"Yes." Evan replied shamelessly, rolling his eyes at the dramatics.
"But my rose," Barty whined and Regulus watched Evan's jaw tick, resolve wavering. "I was going to ask for your flannel."
Evan's eyes softened and his lip curled up into a pleased smile. "Fine. That, you can have."
"You aren't fooling anyone, y'know. You would've given me whatever it was I wanted, even if it was illegal, simply because it was me who asked." Barty teased, slipping the flannel on.
"No, I wouldn't've."
"Yes, you would've." Everyone else at the table - Regulus included - said simultaneously.
A small, barely there flush, coated Evan's cheeks. Barty beamed and placed a kiss to his temple. "It's alright, my rose. I would've done the same for you."
"Ugh. Stop being disgusting." Dorcas gagged.
Dorcas Meadowes, the tutor Barty had after Regulus. She was the year above them and equally involved in the world of theater as the rest of them are, just in a slightly different way. Sure, she's played roles, even if minor ones, in several productions, both in high school and elementary, or so she's said, Regulus couldn't actually remember. No, Dorcas was more interested in the things that happened backstage- the costumes, the makeup, the hair. That's what she wanted to do.
Barty just grinned. "You're just jealous this isn't you and McKinnon."
Dorcas crossed her arms and glared across the table. "I am not jealous, much less about a relationship with McKinnon that will never happen. I hate her."
Regulus clicked his tongue. "I didn't take you for an idiot, Meadowes."
"Fuck off, Black," Dorcas growled across the table. "I don't feel anything for Marlene McKinnon except for hatred."
"All because she got the role of Miss Hannigan in your eighth grade production of Annie instead of you," Pandora said with a roll of her eyes. "That was three years ago, Cas! Let it go."
Regulus wrinkled his nose. "Why are you upset about not getting the role of Miss Hannigan? I can think of much better things to be upset about."
"Don't pull the trans card."
"I am, indeed, pulling the trans card."
"She didn't take it well, then?" Pandora inquired softly.
"Nope," Regulus sighed. "I have no idea why I thought it would go well. My mother doesn't do individuality."
"I tried to tell you."
"This isn't an 'I told you so' moment, Dorcas."
Doracs shrugged.
"I'm guessing the, uh," Evan gestured vaguely downwards. "Was her doing?"
"Congratulations, have a gold star." Regulus grumbled, banging his head on the table again with a weak thumbs up.
"Have you eaten anything today?" Barty asked. "Or drank any water? And, no, coffee doesn't count."
"No." Regulus admitted.
Dorcas shoved a container across the table, packed full of blueberries. "Take some."
"I'm not hungry."
He was met with four identical, unimpressed looks.
"Fine." Regulus grabbed a small handful and popped them in his mouth.
The conversation quickly steered back towards Dorcas' issues - ehem, sexual tension - with Marlene McKinnon.
"Did you know McKinnon is looking at you right now?" Evan mused as Regulus' phone buzzed.
It was almost comical how Dorcas' head whipped around fast enough to hear an audible crack. Marlene McKinnon was, in fact, staring at Dorcas from her table across the cafeteria. Squished between Lily Evans and Peter Pettigrew, all of McKinnon's obnoxious friends were oblivious to the way she stared longingly at someone in the group they avoided most.
It was no secret, the fall out of the Black siblings. Sirius had their group - Evans, McKinnon, Pettigrew, Mary MacDonald, Remus Lupin, James fuckingPotter, Alice Fortescue and Frank Longbottom(though those last two were seniors and would be graduating soon- or at least Fortescue would be. There had been talk that Longbottom was going to stay an extra year for a Victory Lap, for whatever fucking reason) - and Regulus had his. It was general knowledge that the Black siblings avoided each other like the plague and their respective friend groups do as well, by extension.
Well, Regulus doesn't care. Dorcas can do whatever the fuck - or whoever the fuck - she wants, he sure as hell can't control her. Sirius, however, was always extremely territorial of things that were hers, and this includes people. Though McKinnon wasn't high on the list - no, those places belong to Lupin and Potter - she was still her friend and, the overdramatic fuck she was(and, yes, Regulus was saying that) would probably see it as a betrayal, the idiot.
Though, Regulus wasn't paying attention to see this. He didn't see Dorcas' glare, or the raise of McKinnon's eyebrow. No, he was far too focused on his phone.
Maman
What musical does Hogwarts have planned for next year?
Regulus frowned as he typed out his response.
Maman
Not sure
Why?
Find out.
I want you as the female lead, to compensate for your pathetic performance this year.
Regulus felt his stomach drop. The gender emphasis taunted him, blinking like a bright neon sign, impossible to miss. And it just had to be the fucking lead, not only because Walburga wouldn't settle for anything less(Regulus had trie, hence why his performance was labeled as pathetic) but because he'd be on stage the most, presenting himself in the exact opposite way he wanted.
Oh, no. This was bad. Very fucking bad.
Regulus slammed his head down on the table for the third time, though notably much harder than the previous two.
Pandora made another distressed noise. "Yeah, no, let's not give ourselves brain damage, please."
"What now?" Barty asked.
Regulus shoved his phone across the table.
"Fuck." Evan whispered.
Regulus snorted. "That sums it up pretty well, yeah."
"Does anyone know what musical it is?" Dorcas asked.
Several variations of the word 'no' fluttered around the table.
Regulus groaned as he pushed himself up. "I have to go talk to Minnie."
"Make sure you eat something!" Pandora called after him as he gathered his things and headed for the doors.
Regulus waved vaguely over his shoulder in response.
Minerva McGonagall didn't even look up as Regulus slumped into the chair across from her desk.
"Afternoon, Reg." Minerva murmured, flipping through a thick document on her desk.
"Hi, Minnie." Regulus mumbled in response.
Minerva glanced up at him over her spectacles, sensing his storm cloud of a mood. "Alright?"
"Am I ever?"
Minerva pushed her papers aside and folded her hands over her desk top. "Want to talk about it?"
Now, if you took a look at Regulus Black and Head of the Drama Department and Detentions Minerva McGonagall, you wouldn't think the two would have a conversation so informal. A proper meeting? More likely, as Regulus had taken dramatic arts all throughout his high school experience and had participated in all productions in his time as a Hogwarts student. But a casual conversation? With nicknames? It wasn't unusual for Minerva to address her students by their first names if they had asked but never, ever, has she allowed a student to do the same, much less a fucking nickname.
But, if you looked at Regulus Black and Minerva McGonagall, you wouldn't know that Minerva had caught him in the middle of a breakdown after winter break during his freshman year.
Sirius had just left, Orion had died due to an unforeseen, but obviously lethal, heart attack only three days later. The House of Black had been the most unstable Regulus had ever seen it - with people running to cover any and all evidence relating to what had happened to Sirius, funeral preparations and Walburga on the verge of insanity. Due to the unpredictability of everything, the danger dials had been turned all the way up. And with Regulus never having really experienced the true depth of danger within the House of Black, even something as small as sobbing silently into his pillow at midnight was suddenly too risky. He had held in the raging storm of emotion in all the way up until after the New Years, where he could sneak off during lunch, curl up in a corner backstage in the theater and just- cry. He cried, and cried, and cried.
Minerva had found him. Whether she knew he was in need of finding or she was simply going for a stroll backstage and heard his sniffles, it didn't matter. She found him, took him to her office, gave him a blanket, a pillow, a cup of tea and a tin of biscuits and let him do his thing. She didn't tell him to calm down, didn't ask if he was okay(he clearly wasn't) and didn't expect him to explain. He did anyway, though. Surrounded by a strange sense of comfort that was now entirely absent within his own home - no, whatever sort of comfort left with Sirius - he felt compelled to just- word vomit everything that had happened. And once he started venting, he just couldn't stop. He rambled and rambled and rambled until he was coming out as trans to the second person. Ever.
The first had been, quite predictably, Sirius. Regulus had been ten, Sirius was eleven. Regulus had woken from a nightmare relating to whatever torture Sirius had received only the evening before, one he had witnessed but was too cowardly to do anything about. Sirius had been murmuring quietly about something stupid he had learned in class, maybe something to do with metric conversions? Regulus wasn't sure. He had been wrapped up in Sirius' arms when he had interrupted mid-sentence, whispering six soft words.
"I don't think I'm a girl."
It had been Sirius who had scoured the internet to try and understand - for both their and Regulus' sake - what Regulus was feeling. It was through Sirius that he found out what it meant to be transgender. It was through Sirius he had learned about all the other terms under the trans umbrella. It was through Sirius where he found comfort in knowing he wasn't alone.
"I don't think I'm entirely a boy."
That had been Sirius' response.
When Minerva had let him go that day, she had made it clear that her door was always open if he needed a quiet space or if he wanted someone to talk to. Since that day, Regulus has been back many, many times. He had trauma dumped, he had read, he had watched her work, he had made conversation(which had surprised himself, really) and he had simply just stared at the wall. He had returned so often that he had taken to calling McGonagall 'Minerva' and then, finally, 'Minnie'. She was practically his therapist.
"My mother's not happy with me." Regulus admitted.
"What happened?"
"I told her I wasn't her daughter."
Minerva was silent for a few moments. "Are you okay?"
"Physically? Not a scratch. Mentally? Absolutely not. And it's only going to get worse."
Her brow furrowed. "Why?"
Regulus slouched in his seat in a way he knew his mother would have scolded him for and crossed his arms. "She wants me to be the lead in next year's production. The female lead."
Minerva hummed in acknowledgement and leaned back in her chair, finger tapping in slow intervals on her desk. Her gaze drifted past Regulus as she thought and he could practically see the cogs turning in her brain.
After a great pause, she spoke hesitantly, reaching for a blank pad of paper and a pen. "I can't guarantee that it'll work, but I have an idea."
"What?" Regulus said and his emotions were like a flipping coin, constantly switching between glum disinterest and eager excitement on the situation, having already given up but simultaneously hoping for a way out.
But Minerva shook her head. "I won't disclose the details, less it doesn't work out. But know I will try my hardest to find a way around this, Reg."
Flip, flip, flip.
The coin landed with hope face-up.
"Thank you." Regulus whispered.