it’s your own body and mind
One hand holds the mantle
The other one holds the key
Your body is a sanctuary
And your body is about to be free
(‘It’s Your Own Body And Mind’ by Sufjan Stevens)
15:07. Sunday
“Yes.”
Regulus took a deep breath. He still didn’t know if he really wanted to say it. If he did say it, he wouldn’t have to carry so much weight on his shoulders about it. Maybe he wouldn’t have to feel so miserable about himself all the time. Maybe telling someone would mean he’d finally be happy. Someone else could know the real truth.
“I’m…I’m like you.”
Peter blinked, waiting for him to go on.
“I’m transgender.”
His breath stilled as he waited for a response. He gulped, feeling his heart began to race. His mind began to grow numb. He needed air.
Peter was smiling at him, eyes glittering. Peter had one of those smiles that turned downwards, looking like a frown, but his eyes were lit up showing all indication of the opposite.
“Thank you for telling me.” He said quietly. He put his teacup down on the coffee table. “I’m really proud of you.”
“No.” Regulus shook his head. He needed a way out. He looked down at his hands, flexing them, rubbing his fingers against the hem of his shorts. He didn’t want to be there. He needed Peter to stop talking. He needed stillness and silence and to be alone. The chair felt like it was suffocating him. Were the windows always shut? He needed air. He needed out of that room. “No. Stop.”
“No, I won’t. Look, I know we’re not close or anything, but I really am happy you told me, and I don’t care what you think about it, but I am proud of you.”
“Peter, please don’t.” Regulus could feel his eyes begin to prickle. “Please stop. Seriously. Please.” Regulus swallowed, willing himself not to cry. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t show any huge emotions in front of Peter. He didn’t want to make Peter think that he was weak for crying.
Peter didn’t say anything. He nodded, pursing his lips. Regulus felt his heart sink. He didn’t mean to hurt his feelings—he just panicked. He wasn’t used to being complimented or being told that someone was proud of him for confessing something, especially something like this.
“Are you going to change your name?” Peter asked after a beat.
Regulus looked up at Peter again. Change his name? He hadn’t really thought of a name he could change to. He thought Regulus suited him. Sirius hadn’t changed their name after coming out. And he felt like Regulus was a unisex name because it was the name of a star.
“I think I want to keep Regulus for now, but instead of going by ‘she’, I’d want to be referred to as ‘he’,” Regulus answered. His heart had begun to slow. His head didn’t feel like the blood was whirring around inside of it.
“I think it suits you.”
“I think it does too.” Regulus touched the hem of his t-shirt.
Neither of them said anything for approximately twenty seconds.
“I’m sorry if I overstepped anything, Regulus,” Peter said. “I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.”
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”
Peter nodded. Regulus looked away from Peter and around the room. His gaze was fixed on the piano. It was a baby grand—Regulus knew this because he played piano. His mother forced both Sirius and Regulus to take lessons in numerous instruments when they were both younger. Regulus found that he was best at playing the piano and the violin. Sirius was better at violin and guitar, but they also had a very beautiful singing voice and had mentioned quite a few times that they had aspirations of becoming a singer.
“—Like Robert Plant. Or…or-or Stevie Nicks! Merlin, if I had Stevie Nicks’s voice, I would never shut up.” They had said one Christmas Eve to Regulus.
“Who’s Stevie Nicks?” Regulus asked.
“Oh my god, that’s right, you don’t know who she is!” Sirius laughed. “She’s one of the most bloody amazing singers I’ve ever heard in my life. I think she’s a witch. No-scratch that. I know she’s one. She has to be.”
“Really?”
“Her voice is just so…” Sirius made an explosion movement around their ears with their hands. “I can’t describe it, but it’s tough and it’s gritty and it’s rock and roll and it’s beautiful. You just can’t stop listening to it.”
“Are you going to sing like her?”
Sirius’s smile faded. They looked at the ground.“Our parents would kill me if I ever told them I wanted to be a singer.”
“Why?” Regulus asked. He was newly eleven, excitement for going to Hogwarts spinning around in his mind. He didn’t seem to mind that Sirius was the first in the Black family to be donned with hues of crimson and gold instead of the usual silver and green everyone else wore. “I think you’d be a great singer.”
“Thanks.” They smiled at him. “They wouldn’t think it’s a ‘real job’. They just want to keep me in the family business. I say fuck that.” Sirius whipped their head around in case someone—or a nearby portrait—was listening to them curse and insult the family.
Regulus didn’t answer.
Sirius had only been gone for three and a half months, and they were already a completely changed person. They had these new friends who their parents said they shouldn’t be hanging out with, they didn’t ever stop talking about muggle or supposed witch singers, they were adamant about the fact that they were in the right house, and they began to rebel more against their parents’ wishes. Sirius had moved furniture around in the house, turned portraits upside down, and played other harmless pranks against everyone.
Regulus could feel his brother slowly start to fade away.
He missed them.
But Sirius was happier, and who was he to stop it?
He was just eleven, what did he know?
Regulus wasn’t eleven anymore. He wasn’t bright-eyed and hopeful that his mother still loved Sirius. Things had changed. He had changed. Sirius had changed.
Regulus kept his eyes fixed on the piano. Music was always something that stayed consistent, even when everything else was changing around him. Whole notes never became half notes, and those never became sixteenth notes. A C# never sounded like an F. Music was the same across multiple instruments. You just had to learn how to utilize them correctly to make some sort of beautiful noise.
“Do you play?” Peter asked from behind him.
“Yes.”
“Play us something, then.”
Regulus looked back at Peter who nodded to confirm that Regulus indeed had permission to play the piano. He then stood up and walked over to the piano, gliding his fingers across the smooth fallboard, slowly opening it. He traced the keys, pearl white and ebony black. Polished. Shiny. This was an instrument that didn’t keep much dust on it, regularly used and taken care of. Regulus sat down at the piano bench, gazing at the keys.
He began to play.
He played Claire de Lune. His favorite tune to play. Something easy. Something classic. Something he knew he could turn to. The melody from the piano rang out into the room, echoing off the walls.
Regulus wasn’t trying to impress Peter. He simply played what his heart knew. He didn’t worry about if he had the tempo exactly on point. He just played until his fingers stopped moving across the keys.
He sat back, turning his head to look at Peter.
“You’re really good. I guess music runs in your family?” Peter was awe-struck, his jaw dropped and eyes wide and soft.
“Our mother made us play. I also play the violin, harp, and the lyre,” He said casually. “Although I like piano the best. It was the easiest to learn.”
“That’s actually so impressive, you realize that, right?” Peter smiled. “It’s amazing. You and Sirius could start a band. I know Remus plays the drums sometimes, and I think he’s trying to learn to play the bass. I don’t know if James plays anything. I play piano as well, and…nothing else because I’m not that cool.”
“You are cool,” Regulus insisted. “You have a bloody amazing book collection, and you’re smart. And you dress nicely. James told me you’re working for a magazine firm.”
Peter kicked his foot out, glancing down at his outfit. “I am. But I haven’t officially started anything yet. I start in the fall for the new season. I’m supposed to move to Berlin in August to start.”
“Berlin?”
“It’s where the firm is located. It’s one of the only wizarding magazines in Europe that are gender-inclusive. And it’s not like I’m moving to a totally new area. My family is from Leipzig, which is sort of near Berlin. I’ve only been living in the UK since I was around six or so. I mean, we still visit a lot,” Peter explained. “I’m excited to go back.”
“I can imagine.” Regulus looked down at his fingers, still resting on the keys. “Uhm, do you think I need to come out to Sirius?”
“Do you want to?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m ready to really…talk about something like that with them. Things are still weird between us. We talked on the beach yesterday, but haven’t since. And I don’t want to make them angry. And I just…” His voice trailed off. “I don’t know if I can.”
“I’ll say this.” Peter took a step forward. “Don’t do it for Sirius. Don’t come out to Sirius just because you feel like you have to or because you’re their brother. If you’re going to tell them, do it for you.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready,” Regulus’s voice softly broke.
“You never really are ready. Sometimes it just happens. Sometimes you have to force yourself to say it.” Peter paused. “You don’t have to come out if you don’t want to. I know how scary it is. I know how hiding behind it feels. Sometimes you’d rather just keep it to yourself and not have it be anyone’s business.”
“I’m going to tell people. I just…it takes time.”
“Right.” He nodded. “Don’t force yourself to do anything. Okay? Just take your time. I know it’s hard.”
“I will.”
“Maybe you could come out to someone you’re closer to? Maybe a friend?” Peter suggested. “Or would they not understand?”
Regulus’s mind instantly landed on Pandora. His childhood best friend. His sister from another set of parents. The one he could always truly rely on. Why hadn’t he written to her? “Maybe I could tell one of them. Maybe. I need to write to her before. She doesn’t know I’m here.”
“That’s be a good idea.”
Regulus tapped a couple of the keys. He wasn’t really trying to play a song—he was just messing around with chords and notes and picking a random tempo and sticking to it. He stopped playing after he hit one sharp note.
“Does it get easier?” Regulus asked.
Peter didn’t answer right away. He shifted forward, adjusting his feet. “Have you heard of the word Jein?”
Regulus shook his head.
“Well, Jein is a German word that means ‘yes’ and ‘no’ at the same time. Yes, things are going to get better for you because you’re going to be able to be your authentic self now. But on the other hand, no. It won’t get easier. Nothing magically gets easier when you come out. You’re about to be going through a big change. And it’s going to linger in your life forever. I can assure you that once you come out, things will always be different. You’re always going to have people look at you in a new way. You’re going to have to make sure that you’re treating yourself correctly. It’s not easy at first. But things get better. You learn to handle it more gently. You learn how to hold your courage and unleash it when you need to because there are going to be days where it’s all you have.”
Regulus blinked.
“That’s my opinion on it. I think you’re really brave for being able to tell me and wanting to take that next step further, but I will also say that you really are putting yourself out there and telling everyone what’s really going on. It will not be easy, but you can do it.”
Regulus sat in silence, taking in Peter’s words. It was refreshing hearing Peter’s thoughts on everything—especially since he had also gone through all of this and transitioned. He knew it wouldn’t be sunshine and rainbows—but to be fair, was anything in Regulus’s life sunshine and rainbows? He had to run away from his childhood home and his family to see a glimpse of sunshine.
He wondered if his family was looking for him. If they cared that he was gone. He was technically an adult, so under the law, he was no longer in their complete custody and could do whatever he pleased with himself, but he was still Regulus Black. He was still a member of the Black Family. He still had his father’s eyes and his mother’s hair texture and his brother’s tears and his family name.
None of that would simply go away just because he was changing his appearance and what pronouns people use to refer to him. He’d still be haunted by the gaunt face of his mother in the bathroom mirror and his father’s cold, uncaring eyes watching him. His brother’s hands would be the same hands that touched the rails of the stairs and the doorknobs and the piano and the sand. Just because he was separating himself from everything he knew and who he was intended to be did not mean that the past wouldn’t be always there in the rear-view mirror, chasing him into the sea.
He began to play the theme to Swan Lake on the piano.
————
Dear Pandora,
I’m not sure if you have tried to write to me recently, but I wanted to tell you that I’m not living at Grimmauld Place anymore. Do not worry—I am safe. I’m staying with the Potters, where Sirius is living. They’ve also agreed to take me in for now until I can have my own place. I thought of running to you, but I know how your and Evan’s parents are.
Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard about anything, but I had to get out of there. I couldn’t stand being a part of something I don’t fully believe in. You understand. Right?
Things are going to be different next year.
Please write back when you can. And don’t show this letter to your parents or anyone else. Not yet, at least. I don’t want everyone to know just yet.
Yours,
R.A.B.