Regulus
It was the summer after 5th year and Regulus Black was expecting very little from the universe.
The cosmos of life had never been particularly in his favour, but now he was officially giving up on hoping for more. He was fine, and he was fine with being fine. Sirius would have made fun of him for this line of thinking, saying something brave and stupid about how life was supposed to be more, but Regulus’ brother had been disowned last Christmas. Regulus had barely spoken to him since.
Sirius usually spent his summers with his humorous group of friends, cliff diving and bar hopping and date asking, but Regulus always spent the ferocious days of heat between June and August at number 12 Grimmauld Place. It was a cold home, with even colder occupants. He had always hated summers; there were too many long days spent near his parents, too many opportunities to anger them. Regulus would never admit it, but he was also very very lonely. At least at school, he had other things to keep him occupied, but during the summer all he had was his thoughts.
Currently, he was thinking about trees. The roof was hot on his back, the shingles and ivy digging into the spot where his shirt met his belt. The sun was direct on his cheeks, guaranteeing a solid sunburn, but at least the canopy of trees broke up the worst of the rays. The leaves were thick and green, a spidery web of dark branches stretching towards the sky. The backyard of 12 Grimmauld Place was a sad square of cement, so the pine and oak trees belonged to neighbours - they were old and grand beasts, good for climbing and lying under. Regulus really liked trees, as a principal - in fact, he liked all forms of nature. Some trees grew so tall and wide you couldn't tell where they started or ended. Some lived forever. Some whispered hidden secrets if you listened carefully. He preferred their quiet tongue to the bashful words of people.
“Mr. Black, I am so sorry to interrupt, but there is someone at the door.”
Regulus lifted himself on his elbows, peering around through the open window. Kreacher, his family's butler, stood looking quite sheepish in the frame.
“Tell whoever it is that my parents will be back later.”
Kreacher shook his head. “No, no. He specifically asked for you, Mr. Black.”
Regulus was surprised at that. He had few friends, and even less so who would visit him. Pandora was busy volunteering at some sort of non-profit. Barty and Evan were probably sleeping off the night's hangover in someone's basement. Snape was barely his friend on a good day. He had seen Dorcas yesterday with no mention of hanging out in the near future. Who in the world would want to see Regulus?
“Are you certain?” Regulus asked, crawling to his feet, balancing carefully on the sloped roof. A strand of ivy was tucked under the edge of his sock and was scratching at the skin above his ankle. He tugged it free carefully, before pulling himself through the window. He had to jerk slightly to the side to not to kick Kreacher in the face as a consequence of his momentum.
“Yes Mr. Black,” Kreacher said, frowning softly. His whole childhood, Kreacher was an unchanging staple - he was a shadow in the corner, a hand brushing back hair, a light flicking on down the hallway. Regulus sometimes believed he loved Kreacher more than his own father, if not only because the latter man was never really around.
His feet padded up the hallway. Multiple floors up and he could still feel someone standing in the lobby, waiting. He was always on high alert during his days back home, waiting for the doors to slam in warning or stomps to climb stairs with punishments in mind. Regulus shook off the feeling that he was in trouble somehow and jogged down the stairs, fingers skimming the railing. Even with the blinds drawn, the hallways were still dark and dreary and lifeless. The wallpaper was cool to the touch, almost frigid.
Regulus stepped off the last step with his head down, so the first thing he saw was the pair of shoes tapping on the front carpet. They were red converse, ripped on the seams, drawings of lighting bolts and song lyrics scattering the soles. The socks faded into warm brown calves, trailing up to shorts and a T-shirt and a dark blue jacket with white trim and glasses and wild dark hair and James Potter. It was James Potter. James Potter was standing in the Black’s foyer. James Potter, Sirius’s best and most trusted of friends, was waiting - waiting for Regulus.
James’ lips tipped up into a sunny smile, dimples denting his cheeks. He waved a two-finger saluting motion that seemed both lazy and extremely overdone as if he was thinking very hard about his motions. Regulus steadied himself on the railing, leaning back to his full height, trying to seem indifferent about the whole affair.
“Hi,” James said. He coughed into his shoulder.
“Sirius doesn’t live here anymore,” Regulus said in response. He was sure James already knew this, but it was the only thing he could say without giving away how deeply disrupted he was by the merging of his two separate worlds. 1) The world of school and dinners in the great halls and homework and James ignoring his existence in the hallways. 2) The world of his parent's creation, filled with empty dining rooms and cruel relatives and cold baths and counting down the days till he could move far far away.
James frowned at Regulus’ remark and shook his head in subtle disagreement. He looked very out of place and uncomfortable, but Regulus did nothing to ease that burden. He merely waited for some kind of understanding to fall from the sky and land in his lap.
“Uh, yeah, I know. He’s actually been staying with my mum and dad and me.” James said the last part very quietly as if afraid this would offend Regulus in some grand and irreversible way. As if Regulus hadn’t already known that his brother had traded one family for another, one life for a better one, one brother for three.
“Then why are you here?” Regulus said, running a hand through his hair.
“I have a proposition, of sorts.”
“You can’t steal my parents' silverware. My mum has a party next week and she needs it. I suppose you could take the Monet upstairs…” Regulus said this all in a fairly sarcastic tone, sitting down on the stairs with a shrug, but the joke flew over James’ head. Regulus tried to hide his smile when he saw James’ horrified face.
“I’m not here to steal anything. Are you mad?” The other boy said, turning halfway to look around the house.
“I might be. Who knows? Black’s don't do therapy.”
“Trust me, I know. Frankly, I think both you and Sirius could benefit from psychiatric treatment.”
Regulus took a deep breath through his nose. “What’s your ‘proposition’, James.” He said the word proposition with finger quotations.
James, who was distracted by the large tapestry hanging on the wall, turned towards him.
“Hmm? Oh, yes. My parents have asked me to invite you to our summer home for the upcoming months.”
The world tipped very slowly to the side. Regulus had thought he had gotten very good at not reacting outwardly to his internal emotions, but the shock undoubtedly showed on his face. Blacks didn’t do therapy, and they didn’t do hugs, and they definitely didn't do summer vacations of the enjoyable sort.
“Excuse me?” James looked over his shoulder, out the pane of glass of the side window. Regulus followed his gaze, seeing an idling red car out front. Someone sat in the front seat, tapping his fingers on the wheel. James turned back around.
“My parents want you to join us at our summer house. Sirius will be there. And Remus. Peter probably too. We have plenty of rooms and a pool and the town's only like a five-minute walk away if you are-”
Regulus burst out into hysterical laughter, doubling over. His ribs ached with the pressure in his lungs. James slammed his mouth shut, eyebrows furrowing. “
You can’t be serious?” Regulus said, catching his breath.
James shrugged. “You should come. It’ll be fun.”
Regulus shook his head. “I’m sure it’ll be a fucking blast, Potter. You and all your mates will have a grand ol' time-”
“Then why won't you come?” James interrupted, stepping closer.
“-without me. I’m not going, James. I’m not like you!”
“To be fair,” James said, smirking, “I am one of a kind.”
“Oh, sod off. You know what I mean. I don’t just get to do whatever I please any time I want.”
“Sirius does.”
“Yeah? That's why his name is smouldering on our drawing-room wall.”
James took a few steps forward, leaning on the railing, too close for Regulus' comfort. “So are you just gonna spend your summer here? In this house? Come on Reggie, live a little.”
“Don’t call me Reggie.”
“If I stop calling you Reggie, will you pack up your shit and get in the car?”
“No. Get out of my house James. Get back in your friend's car and drive the fuck away.”
Regulus stood quickly, yanking open the front door. A warm gust of air blew a few leaves into the front hallway. A bird chirped happily across the street. The whole world was peaceful and unassuming, so oblivious to the storm of thoughts swirling around his brain.
“Regulus, come on-”
“Give Sirius my regards.”
James Potter might have been an idiot, and an egotistical ass, and every other genre of human Regulus despised, but at least he knew when he had overstayed his welcome. Tail tucked between his legs, pushing his glasses up on his nose, he walked down the front steps. Regulus slammed the door before he changed his mind.
When he turned around, he jumped. Kreacher had come out of thin air, silent as a ghost. His wrinkled skin folded in disappointment. In his hands was a black duffle bag.
“He wanted me to come with him,” Regulus scoffed.
“I’m aware, Mr. Black. I packed your bag.” Regulus was confused for a moment, looking at Kreacher with his eyebrows raised before understanding the man had expected him to agree.
“Did you think… I can’t go.”
Kreacher stepped forward, shoving the duffle into Regulus' arms. It was heavy with clothes and books and toiletries and the weight of his life.
“Who is going to stop you?”
“My mother, maybe? She’d go mental if she found out I spent the summer with Sirius, let alone at the Potters estate.”
“Regulus, for the love of God, you’ve spent your whole life worrying about everyone else. Let me take care of your mother. Go have fun with your friends.”
“Firstly, they aren't my friends-”
“Then make some new ones.”
“Secondly… I can’t remember my second point but I definitely had one.”
Kreacher rarely smiled, but his lips twisted upward as he swung open the front door.
“Go, Mr. Black. The world will still be turning when you return.”
If Regulus had been smarter, or stupider, or different, or more careful, he would have disagreed. He would have dropped the duffle, and went back upstairs, and forgotten all about it. He would have shaken his head and laughed at the absurdity of him sitting around a table with James. But Regulus wasn’t the type of son his parents wished they had, no matter how many years he had spent masquerading as such. So instead, he stepped out of the dark and into the sun; the world was bright and beautiful and James’ car was waiting for him.