Fire is an interesting element. As it burns through a forest it leaves black charcoal and ash. It moves with such speed no one dares to cross its path. Attempt to soothe the anger in the flame. Cover it in water and watch the flame die. You’ll miss how the anger is still fresh and flaming red. You’ll miss how the flames have caused mass destruction. Embers trailing behind it as it destroys and kills everything it comes in contact with.
Regulus couldn’t shake the feeling that he was a flame. He destroyed everything in his path when he could have chosen not too. His friendship with Barty was a string tying them together. Something where neither could break free. But the sting is slowly turning from ivory to black as the flame from a candle slowly weathers it till it snaps.
It was nothing Barty did. If anything Barty was being a better friend. Constantly asking him if he was alright after what happened. It seemed that since that day everyone was walking on eggshells around Regulus. Maybe that’s what Barty was doing. Walking on eggshells. Watching Regulus slowly tip into insanity. Maybe the sting is in worse shape than Regulus thought.
Everyone was careful around him. Pandora visited the dorm less. Dorcas ate with her girlfriend at the Gryffindor table. Claimed it was to comfort Marlene about the death of her childhood friend. Regulus didn’t believe her. But he kept reading.
Life holds pain. Regulus understands that. It takes and it takes and it takes and in the end, you are left with nothing but the physical remains of your own body. And eventually life takes that too.
Regulus has never been selfish. Compared to life he gives and he gives. He’s not one to take. He’s not one to steal. But he did today. The pages of his book are old and the cover is worn yet the words cut new scars that overlap the ones he already has adorning his body. And a living through his heart. This copy of Great Expectations was not one of his own. He stole it, from the boy who stole his brother's heart. His first act of selfishness.
It felt like the smallest little flame. The start of a forest fire. Amber. Xanthous. Orange. Forest fires are difficult to stop once they've reached a certain point. Regulus hasn’t gotten there yet, but nobody knows there is a fire. Nobody can stop this.
“I’m tense and nervous and I can’t relax”
- - -
Fire reminds Regulus of a pyre and he wishes to burn. For all his flesh to melt under the heat. He wants his bones to weep. He wants to be surrounded by total and complete blind hatred. He wants it to slash open his heart and eat him alive. He wants to be mad. His tears don't want to fall on the cold stone. His tears wish to hiss on burning wood. He wants. He wants. He wants.
The first real selfish thing he does is dance. He has spent years and years standing in corners away from prying eyes. Tonight, he doesn’t give a shit. Tonight he takes back a little bit of freedom. He dances.
“Don’t touch me, I’m a real live wire”
“Regulus.” James .
Regulus burned. His fingertips on fire. His heart melting. He was burning. Being swallowed by flames. Marigold. Gamboge. Orange. Flames. James looked at him, his brown eyes filled with so much hurt. Regulus could see it. Regulus could feel it. And as he brought his hand up towards James’ cheek, he felt cold. His fingertips brushed James’ skin and Regulus began to freeze. No. No he couldn't. He couldn't freeze. Don't let him freeze.
“Why don’t you love me?”
“I do love you. I d- I do. You know I do, Jamie,”
“Then stay.”
“Okay.”
He can’t. He can’t breathe. Ice has frozen him from the inside out. His heart stops, his lungs hurt. Stay. He can’t. So he pulls away. And James leaves this time. Is this what it felt like for James. To watch your lover walk away. To know you could never see them. To know you can't ever share the sunshine with them. And then James vanishes and doesnt look back. His icy skin going translucent… transparent.
“I can’t see him anymore”
And then Regulus breaks. Fire reminds Regulus of a pyre and he’s burning. His flesh melts under the heat. His bones weep. He is surrounded by total and complete blind hatred. It slashes open his heart and eats him alive. He’s not mad. But he will be. His tears hiss on burning wood. He’s burning. Harvest gold. Ochre. Orange
- - -
Fire started small. Like the smallest part of hell that grows larger and larger. The alloy orange flame danced on the tables. Hypnotizing as it lured him in.
“There’s no art to find the minds construction in the face.”
“Psycho Killer”
“You missed potions class, Regulus”
“Qu’est-ce que c’est?”
“Look like th’ innocent flower, but be the serpent under’t”
“Run, run, run, run, run, run, run away”
“Stop mumbling Regulus.” Regulus sat in bed, book in hand. He could feel it burning in his touch yet it stayed intact. Safe from his forest fire. “Well sorry I’m enjoying this book.” Regulus kept his eyes on his reading while he talked with Barty. Barty sat on the floor of the dorm doing puzzles. Regulus couldn’t see the puzzle, but as Barty picked them up one by one he could see the familiar shape of a fire. An orange flaming fire surrounding deep brown eyes and bronze skin.
The burning of his hands reminded him of the fire that kept him awake most nights. How it danced from one bed to another like a flame through trees. Fulvous. Blaze. Orange.
“False face must hide what the false heart doth know.” Quiet. Silence. The crackle of a fire in the far distance. Then a bang from the door. And as Barty walked in, Regulus could feel the heat. Regulus could feel it on his finger tips.
“Regulus, where is my wand?” Barty was walking around the room. His expensive cologne drifted around the room. It was like a cool breeze but the wind fed the flame and the flame grew. “You smell different when you’re awake.”
Barty paused his step. Taking a moment to think, he looked at Regulus. Then a whisper from his lips. It felt pained. Hurt. Burned by the fire. “Regulus” Barty was burning but he didn’t even know it. Regulus could see the flames engulfing him. His small hands and pale arms now black with soot.
“What have you done?” A cryptic message and Barty was out of the room.
“You start a conversation, you can't even finish it”
- - -
The library is a great place to start a fire. All those books and pages are so easily caught by flames. He enjoys picturing it burn. He enjoys imagining the tall shelves covered in flames that cannot be stopped. The fire, in hues of blue red and yellow, danced across the wood. Soot left trails. Across dark wood.
“You’re talking a lot, but you're not saying anything.”
The stars are out. The clouds of smoke have blown away in the wind. The stars are out. Regulus wishes to hold one. He wishes to have his flesh burn under the touch of the sun. He once did. He once burnt because the sun was right there. Under his fingertips. The soft gentle caress of a cheek. His hands burnt. The flesh of his hands holding the sun. But it burnt him.
“Say something once, why say it again?”
It's all his fault. It's all his wrong doing. He got my love killed. And She forced it on me. She is also to blame. They both forced the red to infest the yellow. They deserve to burn like witches on a stake. They need to burn.
“Psycho Killer”
- - -
He walked in with embers trailing behind him. He walked in like a fire. One that paints the forests black and grey. Draws were ripped off hinges and emptied. A bag lay open on his dark sheets. He burned through the room. Giving no regard to who or what got in his way. He is mad. He is burning. Alloy. Persimmon. Orange.
“What have you done?” Barty yelled as he stormed into the room, Evan trailing behind him. Okay so maybe Regulus went a bit overboard but he enjoys watching things burn. Why not burn the place down. Why not leave a mark. Things are strewn all around the room. A bedpost is on fire. An unfinished essay is on fire. Regulus is on fire.
The Black family madness had always been explained as cold,icy, freezing over all empathy, crazy and sociopathic. But Regulus felt as if he was scorching, as if his blood was made of molten lava and his touch could sear through flesh. Lock him in a cage and he’d melt the bars. Regulus felt mad.
“Ce que j’ai fait, ce soir-là”
He had spiders crawling up his arms. Their cold chill covers him in a thin layer of frost. James. He was there behind Evan. Watching Regulus with a sad look in his eye.
“Stop love.”
Regulus couldnt breath. He felt like he was drowning. Like his chest was filling with water and freezing inside him. “I cant-” gasp “ i can't-” A glass was thrown towards James but he was gone before it hit him. Instead it hit the wall right near Evans head.
“Ce qu’elle a dit, ce soir-là”
“What the fuck Regulus!” Barty yelled.
“This is almost as fun as watching you sleep,” He murmured, grabbing his wand from the fallen bedside table. “I just uh,” he gestured to the room “was redecorating.” He twiddled his wand between his fingers and his eyes held a sinopia inferno. “You like it?” He didn't smile but the tone of his voice was humorous. He enjoyed this. But he had red tears streaming down his face. He was burning and his blood was boiling. On fire.
“Regulus this isn't decorating, this is destruction. Self destruction even. You need help,” Evan held his wand just a little bit tighter.
“The world is going to burn one day. One day the sun will rain hell onto the streets. Why not speed up the process?” Regulus took his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Good day, boys,” he said before pushing fast Evan and walking out the door.
“Réalisant mon espoir”
“Regulus,” Barty grabbed his hand and looked at him. Begging him to stay. Regulus couldn't help but see the similarities between his best mate and his brother.
Amber. Xanthous. Marigold.
“Regulus,” He begged.His hand was outstretched as he lay on the floor at Regulus’ feet. Regulus bent down holding his hands out for his brother to tak–
Gamboge. Harvest gold.
“Regulus,” his mothers cold voice ran over him like ice and he froze. “Dont. Help the traitor.” He stood up, refusing to look down to the boy at his feet. The one who stood up for him and took the hits for the both of them. Another throw of a spell and Regulus flinched.
Ochre.Fulvous. Blaze.
“Regulus.” James was there shaking him awake from the nightmare. But this James felt foreign. This James burned like a sun, overheating the both of them. His James was the sun but he didn't burn. When Regulus burnt, his James would be the one to touch his skin and lower his temperature. His James was like ice cooling him, calming him until the nightmare passed. This wasn't his James.
Alloy. Persimmon.
His James now stood where Regulus had been before. “Go,” he urged. “Go, I'll see you again one day.” Regulus bolted. Sinopia. Mahogany.
“We are vain and we are blind”
‘BREAKING NEWS: Heir to the Noble House of Black is Missing’