CHAPTER 2)
CHAPTER TWO
The sorting was always a source of entertainment at the beginning of the year.
All the little first years crowded together, the wide range of fear, excitement and anticipation mingling on their faces. The roar of applause from a table as the sorting hat announced its decision, the introductions and shaking of hands as the tiny firsties met who would be their family for the next seven years. It truly was a gorgeous occasion.
Regulus enjoyed it because of how much money he made.
The betting pool was created second year, when Barty, Evan and Pandora were arguing over where they thought a shaking, sweat coated little girl was going to be placed. Barty insisted she would be sorted into Ravenclaw, based on the stereotypical notion that all glasses wearing people are notoriously smart; Pandora thought that she’d be in Gryffindor- ‘don’t judge a book by it’s cover, boys’- whilst Evan said that she was pure blooded, and should be in Slytherin. Regulus, ever the opportunist, bet all of them a galleon that she would be a Hufflepuff, confidently delighted at their stupidity. His confidence was not misplaced. Obviously. From that moment it became a little, personal ritual to guess what house the first years would be sorted into, and the profit was astronomical. Not that he needed it, rich heir of black and all, but it was congenial nonetheless.
“RAVENCLAW!”
Regulus cursed as he reluctantly handed over a galleon to Pandora who shot him a smug smile. Evan grumbled whilst he slid the money due to a grinning Pandora, yet Barty did not seem phased in the slightest at his loss.
Makes sense, Regulus assumed he’d be used to it by now.
The sorting quickly drew to a close and the silverware erupted with mountains of food. Barty practically launched himself forwards, somehow managing to simultaneously pile food onto his plate whilst also shoving a generous portion of it in his mouth. Regulus chose to take a much more moderate approach as he filled his plate. Truth be told, he always struggled to stomach enough food for a couple weeks after the summer, his body being accustomed to digesting the bare minimum. He managed to keep a few sausages and a generous helping of apple crumble down before the group came to the unspoken, unanimous decision to retreat to their dorms. Regulus shared a dorm with Barty and Evan- they used to have a fourth dorm mate that had requested to move way back in third year, after Evan let his pet snake sleep in their bed. Safe to say, it had been just the three of them since.
It was one of those rare occasions where the first of September fell on a Friday, meaning they had the entire weekend to themselves before classes started on Monday. And by the look on Barty’s face, they were taking full advantage of said freedom.
“I’m thinking firewhiskey-“
“Ugh, no, I’ve got a stash of butterbeer under the floor boards.”
“I’m sorry- whose getting wasted on butterbeer?”
“Why is the aim to get wasted?”
Barty tutted derisively, “Evan, my love, the aim is always to get wasted. No one drinks because they enjoy it.”
Evan rolled his eyes but relented, shooting his boyfriend an exasperated yet fond look as he walked ahead with Pandora. Regulus fell into step besides Barty,
“And where, pray tell, are you getting this firewhiskey from?”
He grins brightly, “See Reggie, I prefer to think of us as more of a collectivist culture. The real question is, where are we getting this firewhiskey from. And the answer to that, my friend, lies in the small and stout body of Alicia Nott.”
Regulus’ head was already in his hands by the time Barty had finished his little proclamation, and he groaned loudly whilst shaking his head from side to side,
“Absolutely not- she’s fucking-”
“Obsessed with you, yes. Thinks that your hair is as shiny as brass,” he mocked gleefully, “and lucky for us, she also happens to be of legal age, and according to my sources, in possession of a large amount of alcohol.”
Regulus looked up, “Your sources.” He deadpanned.
Barty nodded once solemnly before his gaze turned intense and expectant. Regulus glared back at him, stubborn and resolute.
~
“Your eyes- they’re just so-“
Regulus tuned her out, staring longingly at the large bottle of fire whiskey charmed to look like pumpkin juice that she clutched tightly in her right hand. Regulus had lasted all but ten minutes before he’d admitted defeat and slinked off to go and track down Nott. The blatant glee splashed on Barty’s face almost made him turn around and storm back up to their dorm empty handed, but the desire to drink and forget managed to outweigh his pride.
And his dignity, apparently. Now, if only he’d managed to master wand less magic, he could just summon the bottle-
“-Wondering if you would go to Hogsmeade with me when the visits start up in October.”
Regulus revelled in how the hope in her eyes seemed to diminish by the second as he stared at her blankly.
“Excuse me?”
She cleared her throat, “I was wondering if you’d accompany me to Hogsmeade- you know, when the visits start next month.”
Regulus continued to stare at her, his expression shifting to one of incredulity as she eagerly awaited his reply
“I don’t know, I’ll have to check my schedule,” he monotoned. Every pore of his being screamed with disgust, disgust that was abruptly ignored as Nott’s eyes lit up like it was fucking Yule as she took a step closer.
The bottle please just give me the bottle-
She batted her eyes in what Regulus presumed was meant to be a sultry manner as she replied, “Well you’ll have to let me know, won’t you?”
I’d rather drink a flask of draught of the living death.
“Of course.” Regulus stared pointedly at the bottle of firewhiskey.
“Oh!”
Finally-
She held out the bottle and Regulus grabbed it swiftly, shoving a galleon into her now empty palm before muttering a quick thanks and walking away. Very quickly (Blacks don’t run- it is undignified). When he’d rounded a corner and was sure that he was out of her sight, he paused for a second, letting out an involuntary shudder. He was not doing that again-
“-telling you, somethings wrong with him, he looks practically dead on his feet.”
Regulus’ heart stopped as he looked round erratically, darting into a hidden little alcove that his eyes snagged on. He knew that voice, and where there’s James Potter, his brother is almost guaranteed to not be far behind-
“I don’t give a shit about what he looks like Prongs. It’s the least he deserves.”
Potter visibly winced at the venom in Lupin’s voice as they slowly strolled past where Regulus was hidden. Confusion must’ve marred his face as he could see the stubby body of Peter Pettigrew but to what Regulus could see and hear, Sirius was no where to be found.
“He always looks worse for wear when he comes back from the summer- I’m sure he’s fine”
Potter’s brows furrowed at Pettigrew’s words but he said nothing as the trio resumed their journey, presumably to Gryffindor tower. Regulus couldn’t bring himself to move from where he was situated, his mind reeling.
Sirius, they were talking about Sirius.
That disgust, that rage in Lupin’s voice; that was at his brother. Practically the whole school had had front row seats to the pathetic fight between his brother’s little ragtag group- Regulus had presumed that they had surely fixed things sometime over the last two months.
Apparently not.
From a the brief snippets of their conversation that he had caught, He garnered that Sirius was not on speaking terms with any of his friends. And if that was true-
Where the fuck did he stay last summer?
Regulus had assumed- not even assumed, he’d been so sure that Sirius had ran straight to the Potters, but from what he’d just heard, there was no possible way he had. He just couldn’t fathom his brother going anywhere else, especially given the state that-
Swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat, Regulus slipped out from the alcove and started a brisk walk back to his dormitory. His feet plodded against the floor methodically as he counted every familiar painting that he passed by on his way to the dungeons. On his right, Lady Marie Laveau, sewing her freakishly hyper-realistic dolls, then Florence Nightingale, smiling ever so dainty and pretty from where she’s seated in her little blue chair. At the end of the hall, a stationary staircase-
He could’ve been sleeping on the streets in filthy, blood soaked robes-
-at which Anne Boleyn resides at the very bottom, staring stonily and unflinching from the middle of her frame. Regulus quickly came to face the stony, grey wall that hid the entrance to the Slytherin common room.
“Pure.”
The stone shifted and rippled to form a wooden door that swung right open; Regulus didn’t hesitate before walking straight through the door. He ignored calls and greetings from his classmates and beelined straight for the dorms, swinging the door open and slamming it shut swiftly behind him. He was greeted with the sight of Barty lying starfished out on Evan’s bed, his robed discarded carelessly on the floor, with one arm thrown over his eyes. At the sound of the door closing, he shifted and opened one eye lazily.
“That was quick.”
Regulus threw the bottle onto his stomach, satisfied at the huff and curse that came spluttering out of his mouth.
“Where is everyone?” Regulus removed his own robe, folding and placing it carefully down on his bed before ambling over to join Barty.
Barty had already cracked open the bottle, taking a long swig before shoving it at Regulus, “Evan left to go meet his hash guy. Dora said she’d be up any minute- she just wanted to ward her stuff before she left.”
His eyes darkened at the mention of Pandora having to ward her belongings and Regulus had to admit, he felt a very strong urge to go and hex her conceited roommates.
Regulus swallowed some of the burning liquid and frowned, “Are they giving her trouble again?”
“No I don’t think so,” Barty made a childish grabby handed gesture and Regulus dutifully passed the bottle back, “not yet at least. I think she’s just taking precautions after last year.”
Some time last March, Pandora had woken up had found all of her belongings, clothes included, floating in the black lake. With the giggles and whispers that followed her around the whole day, it was obvious who the perpetrators were, yet Pandora refused to report it- she claimed it would only make it all worse. She wouldn’t even allow any of them to retaliate on her behalf so as a compromise, Evan suggested that they move her into their dorm. They’d gotten away with it for about two and a half months before Slughorn caught them sneaking her into their dorm one day after dinner. They each received three weeks detention, however the boys were adamant that Pandora was not at fault, and volunteered to split her detentions between the three of them. It was horrific, and Regulus didn’t think he would ever be able to look at a cauldron again without puking, but the reappearance of that spark in the blonde girl’s eyes made it entirely worth the agony.
“I won’t stand for it again this year. We’ll have to sort them out.” There was a dangerous glint in Barty’s eyes that sent goosebumps racing across his skin, but Regulus nodded in agreement nonetheless. The mood remained fairly somber as they drank, until the door burst open and a petite figure stumbled in, patting down their hair and straightening their shirt.
Regulus grinned at the girl as she squeezed herself on the bed and snatched the firewhiskey from his hands,
“Why hello Dorcas, nice of you to finally join us,” he teased, “How’s McKinnon doing?”
The curly haired girl shot him hostile glare as she drank, which didn’t quite seem to have the right impact paired with her messed hair and rumpled clothes. She pursed her swollen lips,
“I don’t know what you mean,” She replied, trying and only marginally failing to sound completely clueless.
“Oh please,” Barty cut in, “you look well and thoroughly snogged. Anyone with half a brain could put two and two together.”
“The fact that Barty doesn’t have one speaks for itself.” Regulus piped in, ignoring Barty’s splutter of outrage.
The door opened once again, this time letting Evan and Pandora come through before finally shutting, the lock clicking firmly behind the twins. Regulus got up swiftly to allow Evan to take his place on the bed, choosing to lounge on his own with Pandora soon coming to lay by his side. He shifted so that his head rested in her lap and relaxed as he inhaled the second hand smoke coming from the half smoked blunt resting casually between her fingers. They sat in comfortable silence as she smoked, watching Evan poke fun at Dorcas. He’d just attempted to pinch her cheeks when Pandora broke the quiet.
“That’s not going to end well for him.” She commented.
“Most likely not,” Regulus nodded in affirmation, “McKinnon is always a touchy subject with her. Merlin knows why.”
“Love does strange things to people.” She mused.
He scoffed, “Love? Because hooking up in broom closets whilst everyone’s in the great hall is the epitome of adoration.”
“To some people,” she offered him the blunt which he gratefully accepted, “even more so to those who don’t actually know they’re in love.”
Regulus took a long drag before handing it back to her and looking up, “Dora that makes no sense.”
Her eyes sparkled, “Neither does love, Regulus.”
He rolled his eyes but made no further comment. He closed his eyes and was on the verge of dosing off when a sharp yelp succeeded by a deep thud forced his eyes open. Dorcas had evidently shoved Evan off of the bed, and was clambering off herself, swaying slightly on her feet.
“I’m bored. Let’s go for a walk.”
Evan glared at her from where he was still sprawled out on the floor and murmured angrily that he and Barty were staying in the dorm. Suddenly very awake, Regulus dragged himself up, grabbed his robe and turned to look at Dora inquisitively. She waved him away, seemingly very content to remain exactly where she was, and Regulus let Dorcas link her arm with his and drag him out of the dorm.
The journey from the common room to the astronomy tower from there went suspiciously without fault; they didn’t run into a single prefect on their way to the furthest tower from the dungeons. Upon arriving to the astronomy room, Dorcas quietly murmured a charm and the stone on the left wall shifted, leading to a more secluded part of the balcony that apparently NEWT students used during their practical lessons. They shuffled through, and the stone assumed it’s original position behind them.
There were no stars out.
Regulus flopped to the floor, hands behind his head and stared out at nothing. Dorcas stumbled over and mirrored his position, giggling when she reached out and linked her pinky with his. A silence ensued when her giggling subsided- a stifling one, completely different to the one that he basked in with Pandora earlier.
“There are no stars.” His voice came out petulant and childish. Dorcas shifted onto her side so that she could look at him.
“They’re there.” Her tone was calm, slightly slurring her words as she spoke, as Regulus was sure he too was. Her words filled him with an inexplicable, consuming warmth that no robe or jumper could replicate, and he must be so, so very drunk, some small part of him whispered. It was such a foreign feeling, he mused, he couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t been cold. It was always there, seeping through his bones and into his blood.
He sat up abrubtly, as if a metal rod had suddenly been jammed straight through his spine, then began shuffling, earnest but clumsy, towards Dorcas, getting so close that his mouth was barely a hair widths away from her ear.
“I miss the stars.” He whispered, as if it were some life-altering, mind-blowing secret, as if he would burst at the seams if he kept it to himself.
When she turned around to meet his gaze, there was a contemplative, curious sadness glazing her eyes. She rolled onto her side, grabbing her wand out of her back pocket, staring at it in wonder for a few seconds before she blinked and waved it lazily above their heads and they watched, transfixed, as small spheres of light floated from her long piece of wood and remained stationary just a few metres above.
“Now you can see them.” She murmured, smiling at him softly.
Regulus giggled, giggled, and reached upwards, as if he were going to steal one of them out of the air. He pushed himself forwards, planting a sloppy kiss on Dorcas’s cheek, “Thanks Cas.”
She just continued smiling at him and the stars and Regulus knew that he was smiling too.
Regulus didn’t remember wandering back to his dorm, hell- he didn’t even remember making it to his bed. All he knew could comprehend when he woke was a sudden sense of empathy towards that Gryffindor ghost, Sir Nicholas, as he desired nothing more in that moment than to be able to displace his head from his shoulders and hide it in a dark, quiet room where it could not be disturbed.
If only.
Classes didn’t start until Monday, giving him two full days before he had to solidify into the role he’d spent his whole life rehearsing; perfecting.
The role of the sole heir to the most ancient and noble House of Black.
Being truly honest, it was a fairly bleak one. Sneer at absolutely anything and anyone that is below him, (which was everything and everyone) make a show of being cruel, surpass every other individual in his academics, and don’t, under any and all circumstances, fuck it up, as there is no understudy.
He was the understudy. The main actor quit and now it was common practice to pretend he had never auditioned in the first place.
If his life were to be dictated, it’d be a rather morose tale, albeit interesting at least.
A rather pertinent pulse of pain that permeated every cell in his brain suddenly provoked him to let out a loud groan, causing a hand to materialise out of thin air and slap over his mouth sloppily. Panicked, Regulus’ eyes jerked open, following the hand that covered his mouth down a past arm eventually to land on Evan’s pissed off face, glaring back down at him, entirely unamused. Regulus gripped his wrist and pushed it away from his mouth.
“What time is it?” His voice cracked and he had to turn away for a second to cough violently into his pillow.
“I’m not sure,” Evan replied quietly, sounding equally as rough, “it’s definitely passed lunch. I woke up when I heard everyone leaving the common room.”
Regulus let out another, much quieter groan, before his whole body was overtaken by a violent shiver, causing him to come to the realisation that he was actually wearing nothing, other than his pants. His stomach felt sticky to the touch, and his worry only deepened when he turned to see that Evan seemed to be in a very similar state of undress.
“Ohhh I’m a dead man. I’m deceased. I’m as fucking dead as Merlin. Oh fuck.”
Evan’s expression morphed into one of amusement as he observed the theatrics
“Barty’s going to fucking castrate me Ev- he won’t do that to you, he’d been hurting himself- but with me he’ll have no such qualms-“
His ramblings were cut off by Barty slapping his hand right over Regulus’ mouth again, an odd look in his eyes swirling with the blatant humour as he spoke, “Relax, Reg. You and Cas came barrelling back in here after twenty minutes, demanding that we all do body shots.”
Assured by Evan’s words and the lack of any sort of castration in the immediate future, Regulus sat up, fussing with his pillows so he could lean against the headboard comfortably, making the very diplomatic decision not to look Evan in the eyes.
“Oh. Okay, good.”
An awkward pause.
Evan snickered, “Did I ruin a fantasy of yours? Don’t beat yourself up about it too much, it’s nothing personal, I’m just very picky you see.”
“Oh fuck off-”
~
Faster- stupid broom, it needs to go faster.
Regulus leaned forwards over the edge of his broom, thighs digging into the smooth wood, urging it to pick up its speed.
He didn’t dare practice any complicated manoeuvres, fearful that he’d send himself straight to the hospital wing.
On the second day- it’d probably be some sort of record, Merlin, how embarrassing.
The wind tore through his hair wildly, almost painfully, and Regulus experienced a brief pulse of resentment towards his mother for not letting him grow it out longer- at least long enough to securely tie back. The rush that Regulus had always counted on flying being able to give him was dulled that morning and he was resolute in his efforts to re-obtain it, even for just a few seconds.
Faster faster faster-
Braving the callous whipping of the cold against his cheeks, Regulus sharply leaned left and curved around the posts, narrowly missing one of the outer hoops as he turned. A logical part of his brain that was somehow still functioning through his recklessness pleaded with him to slow his pace, and the seeker honestly couldn’t say that he would’ve obeyed if he hadn’t had spotted a couple of red blotches far down below out of the corner of his eye, making their way towards the quidditch pitch.
The only thing that Regulus Black hated more than being out of control, was literally anyone else seeing that he was out of control.
Clenching his thighs, he forced himself to decelerate steadily as he flew towards the ground, grunting slightly as the impact of the landing was far messier than usual, and had threatened to knock the air out of his lungs for a second there. Regulus gave himself a minute before he swiftly tucked his broom under his arm and marched round the back of the changing rooms, deciding to shower in the dorms and take the longer route back to the castle in order to avoid whoever it was that he had seen walking towards the pitch.
Every muscle in his body ached profusely and by the time Regulus reached his dorm, he almost fell to his knees in relief to hear that the shower was already going and he wouldn’t have to wait for it to run hot.
Yes, he lived in a magical castle, Yes, the plumbing was faulty as fuck despite that and No, he had not tried fixing it with magic since that incident with Barty in third year.
Regulus yelled at whoever was in the bathroom to leave the water running, and after only a few minutes Evan came sauntering out, stark naked, using a towel to rub-dry his hair.
Regulus’ eyes snapped shut automatically and he let out a pained groan, “You literally have a towel in your fucking hands.”
“Just showing off the goods, Reggie.” Regulus could hear the smirk in his voice and absently threw an obscene gesture in what he hoped was the right direction.
“I hope Barty bites your dick off.”
He walked forwards, feeling for the door, yanking it open and letting it slam loudly behind him. The steam from the shower invaded his nostrils as he mindlessly opened the cabinet beneath the sink, and he welcomed the blissful brain-fog that came with it.
‘And I’m sorry I left,
but it was for the best
though it never felt right’