mon étoile éternelle

Like any other day, Regulus Black is woken up by the smack of a pillow in his face. 

It's honestly the only way he can get up, or at least that’s what Barty and Evan have told him. 

Apparently, they have tried it all. Everything they could to get him out of bed. Loud alarms, opening the curtains to reveal the bright sun, practically screaming in Regulus’ face– until Barty had finally just slammed a pillow into his head, which caused Regulus to stir, just a bit. So Evan and Barty keep smacking him in the face with pillows every morning until he finally drags himself up. 

Personally, Regulus does not understand the world’s infatuation with being up so goddamn early. He feels sick every time he tries to open his eyes before noon. But ballet class seems to love being up before the sun and in the studio by the time it is nine in the morning. And Regulus loves ballet class.

By syllogism, then, Regulus should therefore love being up before the sun. He doesn’t, however. 

“Wakey, wakey our darling Regulus!” Evan sings to him, like trying to coax a baby into eating something they don’t want to. 

Regulus releases a groan, “No. Five more minutes.” He tries to cover his face with the white sheets.

Wham. Another pillow smack. 

“Oh, fuck off.” Regulus calls out, then decides to open his eyes right as he sees Barty looming over him, about to hit him for the third time. “I’m up, I’m up. Jesus christ. Don’t you guys get tired of this?”

“No,” Barty says immediately, “we’ve actually voted it our favorite morning activity.”

“An impressive score today, don’t you think Barty?” Evan waggles his eyebrows at Regulus.

“An impressive–” Regulus starts, before Barty launches in, “Oh, absolutely. I mean, he normally doesn’t open his eyes until at least seven times, and he certainly doesn’t get up most days until at least 10–” 

“Oh my god.” Regulus rolls his eyes as he puts his slippers on and walks towards the bathroom. “I hate you both. The only reason I haven’t smothered you two with that pillow is because I cannot bear to be late to class.” 

Both Evan and Barty giggle from the dorm room, already dressed and now just relaxing before ballet. They give Regulus approximately 20 minutes to shower, dress, and brush his teeth before class, as they know that if Regulus has any spare time after doing those things he will be pissy for the rest of the day, claiming he could’ve gotten more sleep. 

They’ve got it down to a science, really, as the minute Regulus combs through his hair they are rushing him out the door and towards the dining hall. There was a year where Regulus refused breakfast at the prospect of getting thirty more minutes of sleep, but after having seriously embarrassing stomach grumbles during class, he decided to grow out of that phase. 

Once the trio arrives at the dining hall they heave piles of eggs, bacon, french toast, and berries onto their plates, then scarf it all down. The three of them really only have 15 minutes until class starts, and that would include potential warmup time. Regulus will sacrifice his sleep for a small warmup, but that’s only because he is smart enough to know that he would not like an injury. 

It’s a very typical morning, with Regulus groaning, Evan playing with his food, and Barty loudly slurping his orange juice. That is, until Regulus spots someone in… a helmet?

He thinks his mind is playing tricks on him for a minute, or that he’s in some kind of dream and a pillow will come crashing down on him any second, until Evan points the helmet man out, too. 

“Hey, why is there a guy in a helmet?” His nose is scrunched in the way it always is when he’s confused.

“What?” Barty laughs, not seeing the guy because he’s sitting on the opposite side of the table as Regulus and Evan. 

“No seriously, Bart. Some guy is walking around in a helmet like a bozo,” Evan insists.

Barty continues to laugh, “Probably is scared to fall out of his double tours today. In fact, I admire him for that.” 

“No. Barty, turn around. Some dimwit is–”

“Regulus, is Evan playing with me?” Barty questions, before seeing Regulus’ angry gaze and finally turning his head over his shoulder.

Regulus hates hockey players. And oh, that’s exactly what this guy looks like. When he takes his helmet off, he has stupid, long locks of hair, which he shakes like God has gifted him them. Regulus knows a hockey player when he sees one. And he does. 

“What the hell is he doing here? Looking for his little sibling?” Regulus asks, voice cold. 

“No clue. But if I had to guess, I’d say you’re right.” Evan responds, hoping not to make Regulus even more angry. 

“Well, no matter. I’m going to class.” Regulus pushes himself out of his seat and launches his food towards the trash can. He’s pissed off. Everything hockey reminds him of his brother. For crying out loud, hair reminds him of his brother. 

Regulus remains in this state until he spots Pandora while walking down the hallway to class.

“Hello Regulus!” She calls out to him. They have their first ballet class of the day together.

“Good morning, Pandora.” He responds. He likes seeing Pandora for technique class; her calm demeanor helps him stay afloat in the treacherous waters that are mornings. 

She doesn’t look very happy, however, and this concerns Regulus. She is always happy. 

“Pandora?” Regulus questions. “What’s going on? You don’t look too good.”

“Well,” she gives an airy laugh, “I mean, I figured you already knew, but given your happy-ish tone, I’m now supposing you don’t.” 

“What? What do you mean?” 

“Well, I don’t want to be the one to tell you, necessarily, but I’m here and you need to know. I think. Please don’t shoot the messenger.” Pandora looks nervous as she essentially pleads this last sentence to Regulus.
“No, no, Pandora. I would never shoot the messenger, especially if it’s you.” A lie and a truth. Regulus would shoot the messenger. Regulus would not shoot Pandora, however. 

“Alright, then. But don’t be mad at me for the rest of the day. Choose someone else.” Pandora sighs as Regulus gives her a quick nod. 

“Well,” she starts, “there’s been an… interesting change to the directory of students this year.” She pauses for a minute, expecting Regulus to catch on though he is still very much confused. When Pandora realizes this, she reluctantly continues, “One of the nearby… hockey” and she cringes, “schools has decided that it would be beneficial for us to take up hockey and figure skating lessons, while they take ballet. Say it will be beneficial for both of our groups.” 

All color drains from Regulus’ face. “Pandora, what hockey school?” 

“Um, well you see…” 

“Pandora.” Regulus is now interrogating her, “What. Hockey school.” 

“Hey, I’d like to remind you of five seconds ago when you told me you would never, ever shoot the–” 

“Pandora, Jesus Christ. Tell me if my brother on campus at this very moment–”

“Yes.” Pandora eeks out, her voice going as high as a mouse’s. 

Regulus’ mouth just falls open. He doesn’t know how to process this information. He just stands there, gaping at Pandora. 

“Well, how do we feel?” She asks after a moment, “Do we need to take any deep breaths, or–” 

“Where is he, Pandora?” Regulus asks, in a dangerously calm tone. 

“I don’t know where he is right now, but I can tell you that fifteen minutes ago I saw him walking towards–”

“Ugh. Of course he is.” Regulus rolls his eyes again, still processing the fact that Sirius is here.

“Well, yes Regulus, given that he has legs…” 

“I know he has legs! That’s part of my problem! He had to come and step all over my school. And now he’s going to be meddling in my life.” 

“You know,” Pandora responds, her voice calmer, “you might not even have to see him. He’ll be taking completely different classes from you, and so you’ll never have to interact with him if you don’t want to.” Once Pandora stops talking, she realizes Regulus is still distressed, and therefore directs him to take many deep breaths, swearing that they will do him much better than being angry will.

Regulus, however, is still a flaming ball of vexation. 

He decides then and there that he will not let Sirius ruin his day. Or any days to come. He will ignore his brother, all year, if that’s what it takes, until Sirius fucking Black gets off his territory. 

He doesn’t care why his brother is here; he simply wants him gone. And therefore he will act like Sirius does not exist. Because if Regulus does not see of him, hear of him, or smell his awful axe body spray that he uses entirely too much of, then is he really there? 

Regulus answers himself with a sharp, satisfactory no. 

So, he carries on with his day gracefully. He even ignores Barty and Evan’s pestering comments about how he feels about his brother during barre. At nine in the morning. Yes, that’s how much of a saint Regulus is, he thinks. 

His first class of the day goes splendid, and so does his mens class after that. He feels good at barre, and even better in center. All the tours are landed, pretty effortlessly. His turns are stable,and his extensions aren't half bad, even though it’s a cold September day and his joints are frozen. This is when Regulus knows something is bound to go wrong.

He can’t have two good classes in a row. It’s just not achievable. He’s been having such a good time at ballet, that he knows something bad will happen to him later that day. He can feel it in his bones. 

But Regulus expects Sirius to be the demon that pops up during his day. 

So, Regulus’ soul just about leaves his body when he runs smack into James Potter as he leaves his mens class. 

They both jump back in surprise. 

James looks at him and gives Regulus a lopsided smile. Regulus looks back and scowls, before immediately turning on his heels to stalk away. 

“Hey!” James calls after him, “Regulus! It’s me, James!”

Regulus has to laugh a little at that one. Like he wouldn’t know James Potter. It’s only been a few years since they last talked, and James is unforgettable. He’s Sirius’ best friend, meaning as a little kid Regulus was forced around him. Constantly. Regulus couldn’t forget James if he tried, and he really has tried. 

He finds James atrociously annoying, if he’s going to be honest. This opinion is qualified at the moment, as James continues to buzz after Regulus in the hallway like a little bee. 

“Regulus! Come back here!” He hears James faintly yelling in the background of his mind, though only faintly because he has decided to tune him out.

It’s been this way for years, though. James had always tried to talk to Regulus, to include him in whatever Sirius and James were doing. Regulus never wanted any part of it, however.

It’s not until James grabs Regulus by the arm and twists him around that Regulus finally decides to listen to him. 

“Hi.” James says lazily, his grip still on Regulus’ arm. 

“Hello.” Regulus huffs, and then attempts to wrench himself free from James’ wicked grip. 

He is unable to. Screw James’  hockey muscles. 

“Um, no. I don’t think so.” James makes a tsking sound, “You’re going to have to hear me out on this one.” Regulus continues with his attempts to wring himself free of James’ grasp, “I bet you’re wondering why I’m here, and I’m positive you’re wondering if Sirius is here.” 

James smiles brightly while just saying Sirius’ name, like he’s some god on earth. Regulus finds that repulsive. 

“...so I suppose the long answer to that question would be yes, we are both here.” Regulus has been tuning James in and out, but finally decides to hear him out. He sure hopes he gets to the point soon, though. James has been rambling for at least two minutes, dancing around the reason why him and Sirius are there. 

“And now you’re probably wondering why we’re here…” James says nervously. Regulus is becoming impatient. James has said this same statement at least three times. 

“Coach Minnie thought it would be a good learning opportunity to have us here for a while. She thinks if we learn ballet then our hockey skills will massively improve, so really if there’s anyone to be mad at it’s actually her–” 

“That’s great. I’ll be pissed at both Sirius and her, then.” He finally looks James in the eyes as he speaks. “I bet you’re ecstatic to be here, Potter.” 

James flinches at the formality, but Regulus doesn’t care. He’s so upset that the both of them decided to do this. 

“I bet you’re ecstatic to play your hockey, and dabble in the ballet, because it would make you so artsy, and I bet you’re so, so happy to have your best friend here, and your lovely team, who I am sure love–” 

“Woah, woah Reggie.” Regulus cringes at the informality, “I can see you’re pent up about Siirus being here…”

“And you.” Regulus corrects, simply too irritated with James to give him a reprieve from this situation. 

“And me…” James parrots back, seeming a little disappointed. 

How sad, Regulus thinks, that there is someone on this planet who doesn’t worship James Potter at the moment. 

Nonetheless, James continues, “But I assure you, I’ll stay out of your way, and although I can’t promise the same for Sirius–”

“Oh I won’t worry about Sirius.” Regulus interjects. “He’ll want to stay out of my way.”

And with that comment, James abruptly lets go of Regulus’ arm, as though he has said something shocking.

James looks… hurt? Regulus wonders why the hell he would be, as this situation isn’t even about him, but he supposes if he hurts Sirius then he hurts James too by association. 

Regulus will be taking this chance to sprint away from James though, so he does just that. There are a myriad of “wait!”s after he begins to walk away, though Regulus ignores them all until he gets to the room of his next class, which is strangely empty. 

He waits for a few minutes, then, after realizing that no one is coming, decides to check the scheduling board. There is a new announcement made with pink construction paper. It tells him that he must head to the hockey/figure skating rink for an hour every day before lunch. This means that his academic classes will go later into the day, which is absolutely unacceptable. 

What is even more unacceptable, however, is the fact that Regulus must don hockey skates and waddle around the ice like a baby penguin for an entire hour– in front of his ballet class and some random male hockey teacher who he believes is a complete amateur. 

His only solace comes from the fact that he is a stellar figure skater, though very few know this.

Evan and Barty only found out because he would come to the rink at night sometimes last year, and they wondered where he went every night, so eventually they followed him. He almost killed them when they found out. 

But, hockey skates are not exactly figure skates. Regulus can’t maneuver the same way in them, and he most certainly cannot play hockey. This pisses him off, as he is good at most things. 

The controlling of the puck, the power it takes to shoot, and being knocked into by other people are three things he hates the most about the sport. At least in ballet the other dancers have the decency to stay out of his personal space. 

The other members of his ballet class aren’t fond of knocking into people, either, but they do when they’re directed too, and Evan does it periodically as well to piss Regulus off. 

The practice cannot be over soon enough, and when it is, Regulus finds a plentiful amount of bruises everywhere there was not excessive padding in his gear. That is the other thing– the gear smells rancid after practice, and he’s pretty sure everything the school bought him was brand new. 

He cannot take this new lifestyle. What is he supposed to learn from chucking black pucks at people’s heads? 

He can definitely see how the hockey boys would benefit from ballet, but he’s positive it does not go the other way. 

Regulus remains sour throughout his academic lessons, rehearsals, and even dinner. And Regulus loves dinner. But his mashed potatoes taste like soap– all because of some stupid sport that’s not his own. And maybe because of his stupid brother. And maybe because of his stupid brother’s idiot best friend. 

So, Regulus really does not expect his day to get any worse. That gruesome hockey practice and abhorrent conversation with James Potter should have been enough. But of course, the universe has worse things in store for Regulus Black. 

He is currently being told by Evan and Barty how they heard earlier that the more advanced ballet students– them– will have to teach the less advanced ballet students– the James Potter’s and Sirius Black’s of the world– the ‘basics’. Apparently the first day went so badly that the teachers simply couldn’t get them to focus. The administration thought it would be best for the boys to learn by example.

Regulus thinks that is an awful idea. If grown adults can’t put the ‘hockey bros’ in line, how do they expect a bunch of teenagers to? And will Regulus have to face the reversed fate? Will he have to be taught hockey by James and Sirius? Oh, now that would be too much to bear. 

Regulus believes it is fine to teach James and Sirius, as he is better than them at ballet, but to have those two nincompoops try to explain their sport to him? And have Regulus look like an absolute dolt? No, he does not like that idea at all. 

He grumbles all dinner and all the way up to the dorms. He can’t even sleep when Evan and Barty turn the lights off, which is great, because that means it’ll take him much longer the next morning to wake up, and then he’ll have to hear Evan and Barty mock him while he’s still half sleeping. And then when he’s fully awake, he’ll have to spend his morning with stupid hockey players and their idiot best friends.