Le Début
Memoris.
—
1976.
Regulus Black gravitated through the darkened hallways of Grimmauld Place with his pale hands skimming the walls, and his drunken eyes imploring upon the spinning ceiling resting above him. He breathed shallowly, feeling the golden engraved edges of every family portrait as he passed, and finally enjoying the feeling of the stone cold wooden floor beneath his feet. He felt like he'd been walking for ages, and yet he still hadn't found his room -- he knew it was around there, somewhere, and somehow he couldn't comprehend where it could possibly be.
"Fuck," He breathed, when he finally gained sight of the familiar chestnut doorframe, standing tall at the end of the hallway. He stumbled forward, grabbing onto the shaky doorknob, and pulling it open. He invited himself into his own space as he quickly stripped himself of his clothing and collapsed into his bed. His big, warm, lush bed, that seemed to pull him into a deep embrace as he sighed into the oblivion. He felt comfortable, he felt kind. Thank God , he thought, thank God .
His bones ached wistfully while he drew his thick covers upon his body. He lied in the heat of summer and yet he always felt painfully cold. Therefore the warm duvet pleased him, and he felt at peace for the first time in... a while, it seemed. Regulus hadn't been drunk since months prior. He had forgotten how blissful, how soft it had made him feel -- lying there in bed with that baby buzz and the spinning walls and the feeling as if the universe was out of control and yet in the palm of his hand. Thoughts ran by him, songs punched through him, ideas stayed with him and he couldn't feel a thing, somehow. He loved that feeling. When he felt it, he felt as if he'd die for it.
He felt wet, suddenly, reaching his sluggish hand up to his cheeks and wiping the tears away. He did this quickly, now, brushing them off and down the spine of his neck as they continued to pour and pour down his face. He didn't know why he was crying, then. He seemed to do that often, ever since Sirius left. He'd cry, and he'd cry, and he'd cry, and he'd wipe, and push, and bury. All the time, every day, every night, and even more so now that he was intoxicated. He heard the echoing sobs ring in his ears, covering his own mouth and clutching his stomach, spinning into a cradling position as he curled underneath the covers. He prayed nobody heard him. But for some reason, he wished they would.
I miss my brother. I miss him every day.
He'd never say it out loud. He hated that he felt it, but he felt it more than anything in the world. Even tonight, when he'd see him the next morning, knowing very well that he'd ignore him the second he got the chance. That's what his mother told him to do, and that's what Regulus would do. He knew his mother would never know regardless, but he needed to do it, for himself. He wanted Sirius to feel the pain, the betrayal. Anything to make him feel as he'd felt every day at Grimmauld Place since then. Regulus wanted to be selfish, just like his brother.
The rest of that night -- or what had been the early hours of the morning -- was a blur to Regulus. He remembered the crying, and that feeling he had, and all he knew was that he wasn't ready to return the next day. He wasn't ready to start over again, to face everything he had hidden from all summer. He couldn't do it, he didn't want to. Grimmauld Place had been an escape, a torturous, lonely escape, but an escape. He didn't want to leave it and face the real world again. All he knew was that everything would change the next morning, and he couldn't stop it. He just couldn't.
He, eventually, fell asleep.
...
The next morning, Regulus managed to wake as early as he could. Already packed, he departed from home, not even bothering to dwell on "forgetting" to wish his mother and father and extended family a goodbye. He knew he couldn't stand taking the train with any of his cousins, so, instead, he left a very heartfelt note about having to meet one of his friends before they boarded the Hogwarts express. He hoped his family would believe it. And at the same time he didn't find himself caring if they didn't.
With deep dark circles under his eyes, and his hair neatly combed and gelled back against his skull, he sat on a bench outside of the station. He was cold, somehow, even in his burgundy jumper and trimmed trousers. He hoped he wouldn’t be recognizable. Regulus did look somewhat different in contrast to last June. He was taller, now, his shoulders a little more broad and his skin paler than ever. Being that Regulus hardly left his house that summer, he'd certainly developed more of a sickly look to him, complimenting his naturally deep-set eyes quite nicely. He didn't like the look of himself, but he dealt with it.
Sirius, however. God. He never let his mind touch upon the subject of his brother when he was feeling insecure, as he was that September morning. Sirius fucking Black. With his thick, sweet black hair, and his swooning crystal eyes, and his bright and white grin. Regulus hated that grin. He wished he had it, or even had a glimmer of it. But he didn't, at all. Regulus was uncomfortable, too skinny for his own good, but not tall enough. He had dark green eyes, and the same black hair, but just an uncontrollable mess of a version of his brother's. Therefore he resorted to copious amounts of gel, or cutting it bare. He would never, ever, follow that same unruly ragged look his brother did. He hated it more than anything. And, he knew without a doubt, it wouldn't look any good on him.
Regulus found himself glancing up at the clock more often than he'd like to admit. Soon, he found himself relocating somewhere a little farther than the station, just to avoid being noticed by any of his classmates. Well, a few in particular. He'd never admit that that was the meaning behind the whole ordeal -- that he was afraid, that he didn't want to see them, that he couldn't bear the conflict. It made him feel cowardly. Which he was. Or so, he felt. But he couldn't handle it, although those words swam through his head like a thick sea of worries. Fuck, he thought, knocking his head back impatiently as he noticed not much time had gone by. He'd absentmindedly moved to the back parlor of a closed bar, his wand close in his hand, and his baggage resting at his feet.
I wonder where Sirius is , he thought coldly, with that damn Potter, I'd imagine.
Regulus flicked the thought away from his mind, forcing himself not to think. He couldn't bear it. Not today.
Not now.
...
The day moved as a blur, a habit of his. Soon, he was standing on Platform 9 3/4, gripping his luggage and forcing his lips to rest thinly against one another. He kept his eyes narrowed, scanning the crowd for faces, before deciding against himself to step onto the train and search for an empty train compartment. Students of all ages flew past him, chasing down their friends, or trying to locate the trolly. Regulus didn't care. All he was focused on was avoiding, and eventually finding somewhere he could sit. Alone. With his thoughts, once again.
He preferred that, to the alternative.
Everything faded past him, blurring in a whirl of words and laughter, as he eventually slid open a glass door and found nobody inside of it. With a sigh of relief, he entered, shutting the door tightly and taking a seat. He attempted to run a hand through his hair, soon being hit by the hard blockage of the previously applied gel. He itched with insecurity, wondering what everyone had thought of him, wondering what people knew. Wondering if maybe his mother was at the station, looking for him. Maybe she'd found Sirius. Maybe they were confronting each other, right outside his window. Oh god, what if--
"Hello."
Regulus' head snapped up, immediately looking to the opened door, and the young girl standing inside the door-frame.
"Hello," Regulus replied with an icy tone, "may I help you?"
"Are you expecting anyone?" She asked. Her voice, on contrary to his, was warm. Almost sweet, but cautious.
"No."
She looked around the compartment, as if expecting someone else to be there. Ultimately, she looked back to Regulus, "Could I sit here?"
"I'd rather you not," Regulus answered honestly, but continued on with a lie, "I have loads of work to--"
"I'm quiet. I won't bother you," the girl blinked desperately.
Regulus looked back out the window, before looking back to the stranger, "Fine."
She smiled, then. He didn't know if he liked her smile. It was somewhat crooked, but when she smiled, it was like a crack of sunlight. Strange, really. But anyway, she sat down across from him, lifting her robes as she sat down. Fine , he thought to himself, at least if a girl's in here, maybe I won't be bothered . The two of them sat in silence, as more doors slid open, and more laughter echoed, and the both of them wore the same closed-off expression. Regulus looked at her, finally, forcing himself to overcome every other emotion pressing against his chest. "Are you a fifth-year?"
She looked a little shocked that he had spoken to her, but replied, "No, sixth."
"Oh," Regulus nodded stiffly, "must be why I don't recognize you."
"You don't?"
"No."
She nodded, "I know your brother, so I know you."
"Typical."
"I think he's a prick."
Regulus' head picked up now, and he looked at her without judgment for the first time. He hated himself, secretly, for only paying attention to her once she had spoken about his brother in that way. "Why do you think so?" He asked curiously.
"Because, everybody idolizes them," She shrugged softly, "and I've never understood it. His whole group, James, Remus, Peter... They're not kind. They're not funny. Everybody just fucking loves them for some reason, and I don't get it. I don't get it at all."
"Mm," Regulus sighed, "I don't, either."
After a silence, once again, the girl introduced herself, "Roxanne." She outstretched her hand to him.
"Regulus," He shook her hand and introduced himself, although he knew she already knew who he was. Regardless, she nodded politely. "You aren't a Slytherin, are you?"
"No," Roxanne shook her head, "Gryffindor."
"Oh," He answered tightly, "I see."
Roxanne raised an eyebrow at him, "Are you judging me?"
"No."
"Well, you're a Slytherin, so I don't particularly like you, either."
"I never said you had to like me."
"And I never said you could judge me," Roxanne clipped in return, causing Regulus to roll his eyes in retaliation.
"I may very well be judged by my own house for even speaking to you," Regulus muttered, self-consciously.
"So, stop speaking to me."
He didn't.
...
Regulus spent the train ride getting to know Roxanne Burton. She annoyed Regulus incredibly, and yet he found himself trapped with her for the entire ride. Once they arrived at Hogwarts, Roxanne shook his hand once more, and left him there, feeling like he'd wasted however many hours they spent droning away at each other about things neither of them really seemed to care about.
After shaking Roxanne off of his shoulders, and agreeing to himself to hopefully avoid her for the rest of the term, Regulus walked through the crowds of witches and wizards to hopefully make it onto a carriage in good timing. He felt he stood out like a sore thumb, everyone’s eyes around him itching and crawling over his body. He couldn’t stand it. He hated the crowds. He wanted to be alone.
Regulus kept his head down, hoping it would help him avoid the chances of running into his brother, or anyone else he knew the year prior. It was storming out, lightly, and the wind brushed against the nape of his neck. He felt the soft pattering of rain from above as they all made their way through a crest trail, friends chattering away with each other and boys crumbling about the walk.
Once again, passing in a blur, Regulus was soon first in line to board a carriage. He hoisted himself into the blue velvet atmosphere, taking a seat at the very edge, hoping he could shrink into himself and not be noticed by whomever boarded. He didn’t even get a chance to glance at who was behind him, he’d been too focused on just escaping.
He tried to keep his eyes busy as four girls climbed into the carriage. He did, however, notice their blushing expressions once they noticed he was in the car. They looked amongst each other, before one of them quickly sat next to him, and the others scattered about in the carriage. In the end, he ended up with two girls on one side of him, and two before him.
And he had absolutely no interest in speaking to any of them.
Fourth years , he figured to himself, bloody fourth years.
He recognized one of them to be Emmeline Vance, a Ravenclaw who had been trying to make the Ravenclaw quidditch team since god knows when. She had grown quite pretty over the summer, actually, her blonde hair wonderfully cupping her face and her big blue eyes looking rather enticing. She caught him looking at her, though, and she smiled and looked away.
He cursed himself for that.
As for the other girls, he didn’t really have a clue. He believed one of them was possibly Augustine Hoffman, a girl he recalled Snape talking about earlier last year. Something to do with Lily Evans.
Snape. Don’t think about Snape.
Regulus shook the thought, quickly.
“So,” One of the girls began, and he only noticed because she raised her voice, in contrast to the hushed one she had been using with her friends, “what’s your name?”
He blinked, seeing that all the girls were now looking at him. The carriage trotted underneath them, causing some of their legs to bounce due to the unsteady ride. He tried not to pay attention to that. “Regulus Black,” He answered, shortly.
“Oh!” Augustine piped, “Do you know Sirius Black?”
The other girls rolled their eyes, and Augustine looked embarrassed suddenly. “Yes,” Regulus answered, regardless, “he’s my brother.”
The fawning began, making Regulus scoff and look out the window of the carriage again. Hogwarts came into view, and he stared at it, almost in awe. Every year this seemed to happen to him – he’d feel that same excitement bursting through him just as the year before. But, at that moment, he only felt dread. He only felt thick, black anxiety, bubbling inside him like a cauldron.
He spaced out the girls for the rest of the ride. Soon, the carriage had stopped, and one by one they left, the girls attempting to be prim and proper on the way out. That pissed him off, too. Once he climbed out, he ignored them completely, starting rather fast towards the castle. He was actually hungry.
Once he was inside, the atmosphere of the castle wrapped around him like a warm blanket, crushing him almost in a sickly sweet home of nostalgia. He breathed deeply, following the crowd into the Great Hall, and feeling the dread return to him as soon as he realized he didn’t even know where to sit.
He took a deep breath, again, before quickly making his way to the Slytherin table, and sitting next to two second years he certainly didn’t know the names of. He felt a rush of relief all at once, breathing sharply as he knew he wasn’t going to have to face… that, today.
Eons and eons of students flooded in, taking their seats and chipping away happily with one another. Regulus just wanted to eat.
Regulus couldn’t even look at the Gryffindor table.
Or, anywhere, really.
Eventually, what seemed like ages later, the sorting ceremony began. Regulus watched boredly as the new fresh and bright Hogwrats students found out what some of them seemed to be waiting years for. He looked coldly to every new Slytherin member, something Mulciber had taught him years ago.
Scare the fresh meat , he sneered.
Shake it off.
It came to an end, eventually. And soon, plates and plates of rich, glorious food appeared in front of him. Pasties, and gravies, and meats and silverware and everything one could imagine sparkled in front of him.
And he had lost his appetite.
Regulus turned around, suddenly seeing his brother. He sat with his friends, the usual crew Regulus was able to recognize, laughing away at something Regulus would never ever have the privilege of knowing. Sirius’ hand on Remus Lupin’s shoulder, James Potter grinning at Lily Evans, and Peter Pettigrew looking as if he was the butt of that very joke. Jealousy soared through him like a wildfire.
And then those crystal eyes caught his, and there he was, making eye contact with his own brother for the first time in ages.
He ached, and burned, and he wanted to look away, but he couldn’t.
He just missed him so much.
...