THE COUSINS
The summer before Hogwarts marked a quiet yet undeniable shift in Hermione Ara’s world. For the first time, she found herself spending more time with Regulus Black. Until then, she had never truly spoken much with him—he was always the shadow trailing behind Walburga, silent and obedient. If he ever attended the same family affairs as her, he either clung to his mother like a lost duckling or kept to himself out of shyness. But Sirius adored his little brother, even if he teased him endlessly, and that summer, the three of them grew closer.
Regulus was nothing like Sirius. He was quiet, composed, and oddly formal for his age—a little gentleman in every way Sirius was not. While Sirius was all reckless laughter and mischief, Regulus was methodical, watching before he acted, his words measured and careful. But in the safety of Alphard’s manor, away from Walburga’s sharp eyes and heavy expectations, he relaxed, if only a little. There, he wasn’t the heir’s younger brother; he was simply Regulus.
The days were filled with stolen freedoms. They read books they weren’t supposed to, ones filled with forgotten spells and history deemed unfit for children. They explored the manor’s vast gardens, chasing each other through hedge mazes and daring one another to climb the tallest trees. At the pond, Sirius would splash about, carefree and loud, while Hermione and Regulus sat on the dock, their feet dipping into the cool water. Occasionally, she would catch Regulus watching his brother, an odd mixture of admiration and apprehension in his grey eyes. He idolized Sirius, but he also feared stepping too far out of line, a lesson drilled into him since birth.
Sometimes, Sirius convinced them to sneak into Alphard’s private study, a grand room filled with dark wooden shelves and books that smelled of old parchment and secrecy. They found tomes that spoke of magic long forgotten—some dangerous, others merely intriguing. Hermione, with her unrelenting curiosity, devoured every word. Regulus was hesitant at first, but when he saw how easily Hermione and Sirius turned the pages of knowledge they weren’t supposed to have, he followed. There was something about the forbidden that made learning even more thrilling.
Sirius loved making trouble, and more often than not, Alphard seemed amused by his antics. Encouraged by this, Hermione Ara had attempted a few of Sirius’ tricks herself—only to find that her father did not find her pranks nearly as charming.
One evening, after Sirius had managed to charm all the house-elves’ teacups into croaking like frogs, Alphard summoned her to his study.
“Sit.” His voice was even, but she knew better than to mistake it for gentleness. He didn’t scold her outright, but there was a weight to his gaze that made her sit straighter.
“You must understand,” he said, folding his hands together, “there is a way things must be done. I don’t care who you associate with.” That startled her. Sirius had always said that Alphard was different from the rest of the Blacks, but to hear it confirmed was something else. “Muggleborns, half-bloods, blood traitors—it’s all meaningless. What matters is appearance.” His eyes flickered with something sharp. “You must never be caught. Whatever you choose to do, you must be careful. Someone is always watching.”
She nodded, but his words unsettled her. It wasn’t exactly a warning—it was a lesson. She would not be punished for naughtiness, but she would be punished for being foolish about it.
His next words surprised her even more.
“You are not like Sirius,” he said simply. “He was never meant for the life of a Black. He isn’t like us.”
That upset her in a way she couldn’t explain. It wasn’t untrue—Sirius was bold and reckless, controversial in a way that made pureblood society grind its teeth. And yet, she understood what Alphard was saying. She was different too, but not in the way Sirius was. She wasn’t trying to fight the system or tear it down. She was simply… existing within it, always careful, always aware.
Alphard must have noticed something in her expression because he leaned back and regarded her carefully. Then, in a softer voice, he said, “Your nightmares are worse than when you were younger.”
She stiffened. How did he know about that? She never spoke of her dreams. Half the time, she didn’t even remember them. But they always left behind a strange, hollow feeling, like echoes of something just out of reach. Cruel gibberish that made her wake up gasping, her heart racing in her chest.
She didn’t respond, but Alphard didn’t seem to need her to. Instead, he stood and retrieved his wand. With a flick, a shimmer of silver-blue magic wove through the air between them.
“A privacy charm,” he said. “It will keep your mind safe. You should learn it.”
That, more than anything, made her uneasy. Why did he think she needed it? And yet, she obeyed, watching carefully as he showed her the wand movements, whispering the incantation under her breath until she got it right.
Since the Bonding Ceremony, something had shifted in her. She felt it deep in her bones, though she chose to ignore it. She acted by instinct, as if guided by something unseen. Sometimes, she knew things she shouldn’t, things she had never learned. And sometimes, she felt as if she were standing at the edge of something vast and unknowable, the first steps of a path she couldn’t see but had already begun to walk.
That summer, she saw the world differently. Regulus was not just Sirius’ quiet little brother; he was thoughtful, cautious, and carried burdens of his own. Alphard was not just an indifferent father; he was shaping her, molding her into something precise, something strategic. Sirius, for all his bravado, was increasingly aware that he did not belong in the world that had created him. And she—she was not just a child growing up in the Black family. She was something else entirely, something she didn’t yet understand.
The shift wasn’t only internal. She noticed the way Walburga’s eyes lingered on her longer at family gatherings, how Druella watched her with something between calculation and unease. She was aware that her name was whispered more often in hushed conversations.
She felt it in the way Alphard regarded her, the way Regulus hesitated before speaking, the way Sirius clung to their stolen moments of laughter as if he knew, somehow, that childhood would not last forever. And whatever it was, she had the distinct feeling that it was only just beginning.
The afternoon sun was beginning its descent, casting a soft, muted glow over Grimmauld Place as the cousins made their way inside. The house felt oddly still, with Walburga and Orion out at some gala, leaving the cousins to their own devices. Kreacher, the ever-loyal house-elf, shuffled through the corridors, his movements muffled but purposeful, a low muttering escaping him from time to time as he went about his business.
Sirius tossed his jacket over the back of a chair before collapsing onto the couch with a theatrical sigh, clearly drained from the day’s escapades. Regulus, on the other hand, took his time to neatly hang up his coat, his motions always deliberate, before settling into the chair opposite Hermione. She, in contrast to her more chaotic cousins, appeared composed, though every so often her gaze would drift to Sirius, her lips curving in a quiet smile at his over-the-top antics.
"Don’t tell me you’re already tired," Sirius teased, throwing a pillow in her direction as he reclined. "You’re supposed to be the perfect lady."
Hermione caught the pillow easily and tossed it back at him, laughing lightly. "I can be unperfect when I want to be." Her tone carried that rebellious edge she occasionally allowed herself when in the company of her cousins—especially Sirius.
Regulus smirked slightly, watching the exchange from the corner of his eye. "You’re both insufferable," he said dryly, though there was no real irritation in his voice. He let the words hang for a moment before adding, "But I suppose it’s good to see you both enjoying yourselves for once."
Sirius shot him a mischievous grin, one that was always on the verge of getting them into trouble. "We enjoy ourselves just fine, thanks."
"I meant you actually enjoying something other than making trouble," Regulus clarified, his voice almost contemplative. He leaned back in his chair, fingers tracing the armrest, eyes catching the light in a way that made him look older than his years.
Hermione raised an eyebrow, but before she could respond, Kreacher’s shuffle echoed down the hallway. He appeared in the doorway, his nose wrinkled in disapproval. "Master Regulus, Master Sirius, Miss Hermione—Kreacher humbly requests that you leave the family heirlooms alone, yes?"
Sirius made a face at the mention of "family heirlooms," knowing full well that any attempt to engage with one of the more delicate objects in the house would result in Kreacher’s disapproval. "We weren’t even touching them, Kreacher," he said with exaggerated innocence.
"Certainly not," Regulus added with a chuckle. "We were just enjoying some peace and quiet in the living room."
Hermione, trying to be the sensible one in the midst of her cousins' antics, smiled at Kreacher, though it was a touch strained. "We’re sorry, Kreacher. We won’t cause any trouble."
The house-elf’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he nodded curtly before shuffling off once again, his muttered words barely audible: "Trouble-making Black children... all the same..."
The cousins exchanged amused looks before their attention returned to the quiet of the room.
"Well, that was entertaining," Sirius remarked dryly. "At least we get the house to ourselves for a bit."
Hermione nodded, relaxing into the couch, though a mischievous grin tugged at the corners of her lips. "Not for long, I imagine," she said, glancing at the empty hallways. "You know, the perfect lady might just have a little bit of wildness in her after all."
Sirius’s grin widened. "I knew it!"
Regulus, with an air of quiet amusement, let his gaze flicker between the two before turning his attention to the window. "What shall we do with our newfound freedom, then?" he asked, the quiet invitation hanging in the air.
Hermione’s eyes sparkled mischievously as she glanced back at Sirius. "Oh, I think we can come up with something fun."
"Let the chaos commence," Sirius declared with a dramatic flourish, his grin matching Hermione’s in intensity.
Hermione and Sirius crept through the house, making sure not to disturb Kreacher, who was off somewhere grumbling to himself. The Muggle world, with its curious normalcy and quiet bustle, was just a door away from Grimmauld Place—a narrow, unassuming door tucked into the shadowed corner of the kitchen.
Sirius, grinning with that familiar spark of mischief, looked over at Hermione. "Ready for a little adventure?" he whispered, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
Hermione, the ever-practical one, hesitated for just a moment, glancing back toward the dimly lit hallway where Regulus had stayed behind. "I think we should be careful," she muttered. "Regulus is nervous enough about this, and I don't want to get caught."
Sirius shot her a reassuring smile. "Relax. Regulus is just being… Regulus. We’re fine. We’ll be in and out before anyone notices."
Despite herself, Hermione smiled back. She couldn’t resist the pull of Sirius’s impulsive energy. Together, they slipped through the door into the Muggle world, the sounds of the street immediately washing over them.
Meanwhile, inside Grimmauld Place, Regulus stood still, arms crossed, watching the two disappear into the streets with a mixture of scepticism and reluctance. He couldn’t bring himself to join them. The idea of crossing into the Muggle world felt too… foreign, too dangerous. Besides, someone had to stay behind. Just in case.
He leaned back against the wall, muttering to himself. "If they’re caught, I’ll never hear the end of it."
But deep down, Regulus knew he was more concerned about them than he let on. He knew his family—Sirius especially—and his need for shenanigans was unpredictable. Still, he didn’t want to risk being discovered himself, so he had a backup plan: just in case things went wrong, he would be the one to cover their tracks. He couldn’t completely let go of his cautious, sensible side, even if it meant missing out on whatever fun they were having.
As Hermione and Sirius ventured deeper into the Muggle world, unaware of Regulus’s watchful gaze, they couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement. After all, the world beyond Grimmauld Place felt like freedom, and for once, they didn’t have to play by anyone's rules.