Back to Black

As promised by his parents Regulus lived through a perfect pureblood routine the remainder of the summer leading to his fifth year. He attended his etiquette lessons without complaint, as it was expected of him, and he excelled and when he didn't he practiced until it was perfect. It had to be perfect, nearly perfect wasn't the standard for the Black family and much less the sole Black heir. He not only had to make up from Sirius' past transgressions, but show that he was capable for such a role. It was many things—too many to name truly but one thing he could surmise was that it wasn't easy.

Then again he hadn't expected it to be, not in any other lifetime would it have been. Sirius was given years of practice on such lessons and Regulus was given a month at best to be ahead of all the other Noble and Sacred Twenty-Eight heirs. The Black family was to be feared and respected and with Sirius at the helm for the last sixteen years it hadn't done well in either department.

The financials were the easiest of his training to grasp, having always been decent with numbers and arithmacy. That in no way shape or form made such lessons with his father any less dull, and going over trade agreements, plausible betrothals and whom they were indebted to and owed favours didn't help in the slightest. On the slightly less grim side it did give him much to think about in the ways of coordinating allies when he returned to school.
He could easily use it to gain popularity in the right groupings and develop beneficial understandings and advantages should he so choose. Not that he liked the idea of socializing with anyone regardless.

Regulus had always preferred his own company compared to others—he was good at being alone. Depending on others, trusting in someone other than himself did nothing but leave a sour taste in his mouth. But that wouldn't do, not with him being the sole heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. His father had instructed—ordered him, more like— to make favourable alliances, and he would. It was expected of him after all.

Calligraphy was he least favourite of lessons, excluding that of politics and the usual etiquette he was subjected too every other summer before. He had never liked the fancy script he was expected to use and even less so since he was not a traditional writer with his right hand. Regulus was backwards in writing according to his mother, favouring his left hand and side for most things.

He was constantly degraded and quipped at from her when he slipped into the habits of smudging the still wet ink across the parchment, or incidentally forgetting to use the script she had tailored for him to use. Twice he had been forced to use a blood quill to let the lessons of perfect scripture sink in. Always spaced out so as to not scar his hands–, as a Black heir was to look and be perfect and scars were the definition of not-perfect. Thrice he had been cracked with a belt on the wrist for ink bottles being spilled, and far too many times to count he had been subjected to minor hexes for a smudged set of writing.

Even by the end of the summer, the last night before riding the train back to Hogwarts his writing was not up to par with his parents expectations but there was nothing more to be done. His mother did promise that they would review such scriptures upon his return for the next summers holidays though—an impending date that Regulus was not at all looking forward too.

Outside the gruelling calligraphy lessons and the financials Regulus underwent the usual set of etiquette lessons. Ones that subjected around the topics of proper, poised and pureblood— three words he was slowly beginning to harbour a hefty grudge against.

Politics has become more advanced as he studied the mechanics of the Wizengamot and the injustices of pureblood society with the prominent intermixing of Muggle blood in parliament. On more than one occupancy his father has fallen into rants about Mudbloods and sympathizers for such scum eradicating their traditions. Traditions that privately Regulus thought to be better buried in the past more often then not.

Dark magic and Light magic had not existed previous to the rising popularity of Albus Dumbledore but with the man growing in power and defeating the so-called dark wizard 'Grindelwald' the world had begun to spiral. Regulus had often found the superstitions surrounding such magic strange— as any magic could be Dark magic if the intent or use of it was misguided. He was just a boy however, and no one cared to ask about his stances and opinions towards such subjects.

That was just one of the minor topics brought to light in such lessons however. More often they focused on the preservation of traditions and purity, that as a Black heir he ought to act in the family's best interests and their allies at all times. That he would be the face of the family, the name that was to bring respect and fear to their Noble name. Regulus had been uneasy for the entire afternoon after being dropped such news on his shoulders. He had never wanted to be feared— respected maybe, but never feared.

Hence, when he was given the unfortunate opportunity to meet a man named Tom Riddle he was more than uneasy. Whispers had been circulating his home for days before the man's scheduled arrival, with house guests more and more common than before. The portraits of Grimmauld Place whispered of a new Dark Lord in the rising, a man who was gaining more and more popularity for his power and purity views. It didn't take long for Regulus to piece the puzzle together and realize just who this Tom Riddle man was.

Bellatrix, who had come to visit far more often than Regulus was comfortable with in the accompany of her husband, had went on for hours about the man. About his charming and cunning way with words and his raw and nearly untampered power. The meeting with the man had been short thankfully, but Regulus hadn't been able to eat properly for days afterwards. His pale skin feeling slick with Dark, no Black Magic, as it clung to his very skin from being around the shifty man. All the showers in the world, of both scalding and freezing temperatures couldn't erase the feeling of tar clogging his senses and muddling his dexterity.

Bellatrix was enamoured with the new Dark Lord, while Regulus had been nothing short of ill and anxious in his presence. Though when his father had insisted an alliance with the man, Regulus was forced to approve. It didn't matter that his hands shook at the oil that would soon coat him like a second skin from the secondhand Black Magic or the terror that filled his very blood at the prospect of being branded like cattle and owned like a slave. The Black heir had always known his family to be dark and twisted, cruel and unforgiving— but never had he thought that murder was going to be second nature to his eventual lordship.

It was after the first meeting and decided upon timing for his marking that Regulus finally cracked. Not in tears in the comfort of his bedroom, where he wallowed in pity and grieved for his own choices, but in anger. He had exploded an ancestral vase in the corner cupboard of his room, had shattered a window and tore the drapes clearly from their rods bolted above the frames. He would later blame it on accidental magic—a foolish excuse that had him writhing on the floor from his mother on a presumed ineptitude in magic. In truth, in was anger that fuelled his reaction, not anger at himself but at Sirius.

At Sirius, who had ran away from home and left him alone in the cesspit of hell. Who had single handedly been the main factor on whether or not he would ever be able to make a choice of his own free will. At Sirius, who was a coward, who had escaped the soon to be dubbed Dark Lord and condemned Regulus to nothing but a life of sin,
tragedy and misery.

It was Sirius' fault, all of it. All the the wrong choices, all the sudden mistakes he made and the darkness that lingered wherever he went. At least that was what Regulus told himself on particularly dark and gloomy days in Grimmauld Place.

The etiquette lessons following his lash out had been worse then, intermixed with Dark Magic that left him shaking and unable to sleep through the night. He no longer needed to perfect all twenty-six dances that all respectable pureblood's knew but all the ways to poison a member of high society without alerting the authorities. Regulus didn't need to know the different ways of greeting his classmates and other people of importance but instead how to cast the unforgivable's successfully. He needed to know darkness, Black Magic to be precise, to be deemed successful in his parent's eyes.

He was only fifteen and already Regulus knew the darkest of arts and how to exploit them. He knew the rule book of the law backwards and forwards but not because of his impending station at a heir but because the Dark Lord expected it. Because the Dark Lord was going to own Regulus much like he already owned most of their assets and vaults.

Regulus was angry at Sirius—that was indisputable— but deep down, he was angry at himself too. He was angry at himself for not following his brother out that slamming front door when he had the chance. For not being braver, and for being the coward that Sirius always knew him to be. 

September first was a monumental day in the Wizarding World, at least for those over the age of eleven and under the age of eighteen. It was the start of term for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and likewise the day most students were able to reconnect with their peers after spending the summer holidays with their families. For Regulus the first of September had always been something to look forward to— the light at the end of two months of solitude and darkness.

Hence, why it was unsurprising that Regulus was not only one of the first students to arrive at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, but nearly an entire hour earlier then the train was scheduled to depart the station. Most Wizarding families made it a point to see their children off to school on the first day, though this was not the case for the Blacks.

After Sirius and Regulus had both attended their first year at the school Kreacher had been the one to see them off and retrieve them at the end of term. Every year without fault Kreacher would apparate both of the Black brother's to the platform alongside their trunks and then leave in a loud, resounding crack. It was a tradition almost, routine on how the day would start but with Sirius disowned and burnt from the family tapestry it seemed like nothing more than another reminder to the many changes that had happened over the summer.

With Kreacher disappearing in his usual loud crack, Regulus stood more anxious and uncertain than he had been as a first year alone on the platform with nothing but his trunk at his feet. At least as a first year he had been given the moral support of Sirius, even if his brother had ditched him only minutes later to find his three best friends. Regulus was entirely alone for the start of his fifth year and for some insignificant reason this bothered him more than anything else.

It was stupid really, he knew that deep down as he huffed out a sigh and straightened his black suit jacket. After all, it wasn't like Sirius being disowned was new information to him.  He had been given weeks to get over being abandoned —for a lack of better term— at Grimmauld Place, so why was he so overwrought with emotions over such a simple thing?

In a fit of nervousness, Regulus tugged at the sleeves of his jacket, trying to hide the shake of his pale hands under the expensive cloth, and went to collect his trunk. At the very least he could board the crimson red steam engine and find a suitable compartment— he was early for a reason it would do him better not to dwell on unpleasant memories out in the open. Cementing a neutral and almost bored look upon his aristocratic features, Regulus tugged his trunk closely behind and went to board the train.

He didn't linger long in the corridors, hearing the telltale signs of apparition and the gateway onto the platform opening often as more students poured into the vicinity. Regulus chose an inconspicuous compartment, one situated almost directly into the middle of the train in a way to seem like any other student. He knew the more prominent of Slytherin's would lay claim to the furthest back ones, while Hufflepuff stole the ones closest to the engine. Ravenclaw and Gryffindor usually filled in the middle, save for the mixed relationships between houses and the younger years yet to be sorted.

Regulus knew he could have easily situated himself towards the back, being the sole heir to the Black Family and having gained an incidental reputation amongst his peers as someone not to be wronged– yet he didn't. He knew his father and mother expected him to make allies with prominent pureblood families in his house but the mere thought of socializing with such terrible company had his stomach churning with nerves.

It would bet better to wait until after the feast, he reasoned with himself. To plan and prepare for how to go about making such acquaintances and allies— for the moment he would be selfish and place his own desperate need for anonymity first. His mother and father's demands could wait a few more hours he reasoned— after all, they couldn't reach him with curses and hexes on the way to school. The strongly worded letters from them both about his lack of determination towards his given duty would have to wait until the next day anyway.

After settling into the compartment he had dubbed as his own, Regulus carefully pulled a worn copy of his fifth year Arithmacy textbook out from his trunk and settled into the seat closest to the window to seem studious rather than anxious. Unfortunately, his plan to seem inattentive due to his mindless scanning of his textbook was a lost cause when he heard the familiar bark of laughter outside the train.

Unable to stop himself, Regulus was caught watching like the outsider that he was, as Sirius and his friends caused a ruckus on the platform. The first thing he noticed was how well Sirius seemed too look—, gone was the haunted shadows beneath his eyes and the once colourful bruising along his jaw. Even his skin looked healthier, less ivory and paper-like and more tanned, glowing almost, like he had spent a fair amount of time in the sun over the summer.

Regulus felt his throat tighten at his brother, wearing that ridiculous Muggle leather jacket of his, who was slinging a lazy arm over the tops of James Potter's shoulders as he tried to stay upright with his laughter. It must have been some joke he thought to himself, to bring that sort of response. Regulus knew it was good for his brother to leave, better in fact for both Black brother's but the jealousy in his stomach still swelled and the bitterness of it still burned his throat like acid.

It seemed that Sirius hadn't waited too long before replacing him after all. Not that it surprised him really, James Potter had always been the brother that Sirius desired. He was just as brash and reckless as he was, two sides of the same coin in their Gryffindor-ish attitudes—it was destined for the two to never part ever since first year. Regulus could have never been the brother that Sirius wanted and needed. He was too Slytherin to put it simply— too dark for his shining beacon of a brother, too callous in regards to others and lacking that self righteousness of always being in the right.

Regulus defended himself with cutting remarks and relied heavily on his wits to get out of alterations. He was all the things Sirius not only proclaimed to hate but could never seem to grasp the concepts of. They may have been brothers by blood at one point but they had always been the sun and the moon—, related and orbiting around one another but glaringly different to those looking in at them.

This was the reason his gut swelled with jealousy because of James Potter, the boy that Sirius had never stopped speaking about once first year had ended. Perfect Gryffindor James Potter with his messy hair and an obsession with Lily Evans— the boy who was brighter than the sun and was bound to be on the Quidditch team in second year because he was simply 'brilliant ' on a broomstick. At the beginning, Regulus had been enchanted by him too, until he realized through his own first year that James Potter was just another burning sun.

He was just like Sirius who had scorched so many of Regulus' choices already. The youngest of the Black's had refused to be burned yet again by another sun and it's burning rays. It didn't matter that it hurt to distance himself and it hurt to be close— it was like that old Muggle saying that he heard Lily Evans mutter once; 'Damned if you do, and damned if you don't.'

So Regulus hadn't stopped his brother from running, not really. Just as he hadn't purposely cut his brother off at school years ago. It was easier in the distance to pretend everything was fine, and that the darkness he had enveloped himself in would fade eventually. Regulus was but a moon in their orbit and it was better to stay far away from them both. He was many things— a masochist was not one of them. He did not wish to be burned from either of them ever again.

The sudden opening of his compartment door had him turning away from the sight and sound of his brother outside the train quickly. Composing himself in seconds, Regulus turned a neutral expression to the intruders on his compartment and arched a single brow in question to them. He wasn't even slightly surprised to see Severus Snape —a half-blood Slytherin in the year above him— slinking inside in poorly tailored black robes with the Muggle-born witch, Lily Evans shortly behind with their trunks.

This was merely another tradition, or at least in part, on the way back to Hogwarts. Regulus has been avoiding his brother ever since half-way through second year and the best way to accomplish that, he had found out, was to be around the one person his brother despised most; Severus Snape. It didn't bother the other wizard any as it offered him an unspoken sort of protection against others in their dorms, but slowly it had begun to grate over Regulus' patience.

He knew now that he would have to dispose of Snape and his moderate protection's from his brother so he could attempt acquaintances with more popular pureblood's in their house so at least that was a marginal bit of sunlight in his peripheral view. Nonetheless, he had already resigned himself to ignoring those later demands of his parents until after the welcoming feast. It didn't help that Severus was unfortunately one of the closest things he had to a friend.

"Black," the lanky haired boy greeted stiffly, his coal black eyes staring at him with a burning intensity that left Regulus bristling. Not in fear like his mother's eyes, but like yet another sun. Maybe Regulus was doomed to burn in the end after all.

"Snape," he replied a moment after, devoid of emotion.

Emotion wasn't needed to communicate with his fellow house mate however. Severus had always had the uncanny ability to know exactly how he was fairing with nothing more than a fleeting glance. It had bothered the younger of the Black's for years, always sure that his mask was slipping without his knowledge. Something that was simply not allowed to happen, ever.

"Honestly," Lily huffed next to him, as she shoved her best friend off to the side and went to take the seat across from Regulus without so much as a backwards glance. Her antics nearly made him grin—such a Gryffindor was Lily Evans, always direct and blunt in her statements and forever impatient. "—you two are ridiculous. Can't you just call one another by your first names?"

Perhaps, it was the way the Muggleborn girl worded it, or maybe, Regulus simply was as prickly as his brother always claimed him to be. Nonetheless, he didn't hesitate in snidely stating at the girl with ice covering his words, and causing the vivacious redhead to stiffen in her previously relaxed posture.

"I wouldn't expect someone of your stature to understand the necessities and propriety of our greetings."

It was hardly an insult by Regulus' standards, and quite tame for a pureblood at that. Most of their housemates would have started cursing first, rather than insulting the Muggleborn girl who had made herself at home in the compartment. Nonetheless, Severus had jumped to her defence and Regulus was soon staring down the end of his wand.

Regulus chuckled smoothly, not at all threatened by the dark haired boy with burning eyes. He had seen and endured much worse than anything Severus Snape could ever hope to inflict on him from this summer alone. He could thank his mother and father for that— though Sirius could potentially be blamed as well.

"Do put you wand away, Snape," Regulus stated plainly, as he jested with a knowing look to the boy. "I'd hate to embarrass you in front of Evans."

"I'm fine, Sev. Just ignore it." Lily Evans consoled with a roll of her eyes and fleeting smirk.

Regulus had always admired that about the girl. Her seamless inability to never be baited into an alteration unless it was something truly unforgivable that was spoken. Frankly, Regulus hardly insulted her at all, he most often simply stated the facts that she wouldn't understand the traditional customs or pureblood's or the like. This however, never ceased to raise Severus' hackles to protect his precious Lily.

Slowly, Severus lowered his wand and took a seat next to the unbothered red head. The three soon fell into a tense silence, which soon had Regulus trying his luck with his Arithmacy textbook once again. Sooner than expected, the train started it's dissent from the station and the passengers of students abroad were finally on their way to Hogwarts for another term.

It was only ten minutes into the journey and already Regulus could feel the beginnings of tension fade from his stiff form. He hadn't noticed how tight he had been clutching his textbook, or even how rigid he had been pressed against the well-worn cushions of the train. Though with every passing minute he slowly, almost unknowingly, relaxed further.

Though he would never voice it out loud, he knew it in part was because at Hogwarts he wasn't as heavily plagued by the memories and lessons his parents had shoved over and in him during the holidays. On the train he could be just Regulus, even for just a few minutes before retaking the helm of the sole Black heir and readying himself for the vultures that were known as his house mates. This was his last journey to Hogwarts without a shadow of responsibilities and frankly he would make the most of it. At least he would have, if Lily Evans hadn't suddenly tried to pry into his life.

That was an unfortunate habit of the redhead's. Every year it was the same, where she would come sniffing about as if trying to wheedle some large and damning confession from him about his home life. Regulus would have been insulted had her claims not been so close truth—about the curses, the pain, the neglect and ignorance for years on end. Then again how could she not be right? Sirius had stated both loudly and clear to practically the entire school on just what exactly there parent's were like for years.

"Do anything interesting over the holidays, Regulus?" She asked, playing with a strand of loose hair that kept falling towards her right cheekbone. "My parents and I visited my cousins for a few weeks—it was nice at first but was soon very boring."

Regulus simply hummed in reply, as he slowly closed his book to give her his full attention more or less. He had learned the hard way and many years previous that Lily Evans was not to be ignored. Unless you wanted a stray gibberish hex sent your way or a swift kick to the shins. She was some strange witch, that was for sure.

"Sev didn't much enjoy his break, Eileen was caught up in her shifts at the local store." She continues on, as if Regulus would care what either one of them did on their holidays. He knew for a fact that his was likely far more interesting —and perhaps traumatic in some instances— than either of theirs could have ever been.

"Though he did get a head start on the theory of some potions later in the year, since his father was away on business."

Now that was something that sparked his interest, if only barely. Severus was far more clever than he outwardly appeared, having not only remedied and simplified most of their Ministry-dictated potions study, but had even crafted some spells of his own invention. This of course, was knowledge only Lily and Regulus were privy too, seeing as none of the three were close to anyone else overly. Lily had her friends in Gryffindor obviously, but Severus only had Regulus in Slytherin house for the most part. Not that it made them friends by any means, mutual acquaintances would be far more fitting for their... relationship of sorts.

Regulus raised an intrigued brow, "Create anything of interest, Snape?"

"Just a few modifications," he replied with a shrug, but soon added on with a small curl of his lips that had Regulus stiffening in his seat once more. "You never did answer Lily's question though."

Regulus sighed. He didn't go into details, as it wasn't proper and stuck to being mostly truthful if a bit blurry about all that had happened over the summer at Grimmauld Place. Though Lily would soon know exactly what had happened anyway, as would the rest of the school seeing as Sirius was such a loud talker. If of course the Pureblood Slytherin's didn't out the news first about his brother's disowning.

"My break was eventful, to say the least." He hummed plainly before adding. "Much happened in a short while, but it was all for the best I'd say."

Lily frowned. "That was frustratingly vague."

"Well," Regulus countered slowly, with a smirk creeping to the edges of his lips, "—not all of us can prance around wearing our emotions on our sleeves for all to see."

"No, I suppose not." Lily replied with a sharp nod before curtly cutting down Regulus' short lived triumph. "Tell me, is that why you're wearing at least three different glamour spells and your hands are still shaking?"

Severus inhaled sharply on her right side, as if about to having a coughing fit whilst he attempted to scold her for her rash statements. Not about to be outdone or caught without his guard up, Regulus simply gave her a winning grin he knew Sirius used often on teachers to get out of trouble and easily replied, without missing a beat.

"Acute observation, Evans. I'm impressed."

The redhead rolled her eyes. "Liar."

Severus looked seconds away from either laughing at the absurdity of the situation or fainting at the mere thought of his best friend calling out Regulus Black on his spotty use of glamour charms. Regulus had known his glamours weren't perfect, as he had only learned them a week ago but they were needed to hide the bags beneath his eyes, and the bruises along his jaw from his mother's harsh grip.

The scratches along his cheeks, well those had been accidentally self inflicted in a round of torture curses. The Cruiciatus curse was to blame for his still shaking hands— three rounds of it the night prior hadn't exactly don't him any favours. Though Regulus knew they would fade soon enough, for now he could just write it off as anxiety or nerves if someone questioned it.

Before Regulus could come up with a suitable defence or switch the dangerous waters the topic was slowly sliding into, Lily Evans had made her excuses to both boys in the compartment.

"I'm going to go catch up with Marlene and Dorcas for a while." She said, not giving either boy an opening to object, not that Regulus or Severus would try to stop her. She was a force to be reckoned with, after all. "I presume you'll both be fine in my absence?"

Regulus had simply rolled his eyes at her insinuation that they couldn't be civil to one another without her running interference. Severus had offered her a small nod in reply, as the sliding door of the compartment opened and shut once more, with a small click. Silence fell easily between the two boys, with the one staring out the window pane as he watched the landscapes pass by and the other shifted in their seat and watched the other with a scalpel like precision.

Regulus knew what Severus was searching for, it was hard not to come accustomed to knowing exactly how someone watched you after living in Grimmauld Place. Though Severus would easily find what he was looking for, since Regulus wasn't about to try and fix the glamours he had placed around himself. He could of course pull them down, seeing as Severus knew better than anyone just exactly went on for him at home. It took one to know one after all.

Tobias Snape wasn't a proper parent nor father, and Regulus knew that the elder Slytherin was often beaten and kicked around at home for his use of magic. It was the reason his mother Eileen didn't practice magic anymore— she was no better than a squib now. Regulus wouldn't lie and say he wasn't curious as of why the woman didn't leave the horrible excuse of a man after he showed his true colours. It wasn't like it was a betrothal, seeing as he was a Muggle and her a pureblooded witch. There was nothin legally or magically binding her to stay with him. Plus, if she did leave him, Severus wouldn't have to hide his own injuries much like Regulus himself.

At least Severus only had one horrible parent to contend with though— while Regulus had two, both varying in their degrees of nastiness. Even if Regulus had wanted to escape just as Sirius had that summer he would have had nowhere to go. With no friends to offer their spare rooms, and the rest of the family not much better in temperament, he was stuck. There was also the fact that despite all their flaws, Regulus couldn't help but love his parents. He knew even if he had the choice he wouldn't leave—he was a coward.

"How much of what you said was actually true?" Severus suddenly spoke in the eerie silence of the compartment. Regulus didn't bother to turn his gaze from the window as he replied in a purposely neutral tone.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Severus huffed loudly before snidely commenting, "Just becuase I'm not a Pureblood or run in the same circles as your family doesn't mean I didn't hear the rumours."

That was news to Regulus. He hadn't expected there to be rumours, not with his parents being as tight lipped about the situation as possible and going about as if nothing had happened at all. Odd. Perhaps the Potter's had let something leak.

"Which are just that—," Regulus stated boredly, before letting his grey-eyed gaze wander to the other black haired Slytherin's. "—rumours."

"If you say so," Severus shrugged with a meticulous curl to his lips before uttering beneath his breath in taunt, "...heir Black."

Regulus felt his temper flare at this words but didn't act out, not as he wished to anyway. If he had it his way he would have cursed the boy for even thinking of using that to his advantage. The Black named was already shamed in it's disowning of Sirius, Severus didn't need to start spreading farces to make it much worse— some of which Regulus didn't even want to contemplate. The rivalry between the so-called marauders and Severus knew no bounds and he was often shoved in the mix of it. Mostly to cover up whatever mess Severus made in trying to get back at them, whether it be rumours or lies to throw off professors, or cursing a few random students to get the rumour mill speaking about something else.

"What about you?" Regulus asked curtly, not about to let the taunt slide but not in the mood to start an actual altercation in his few moments left of moderate solitude and peace.

"Hm?" Severus hummed in naivety. Pretending as though he had no idea to what Regulus was alluding too.

Feeling a sense of power persuade him, Regulus leaned forward and supplied in more detail than he really needed to about what he was asking.

"How many lies did you have to feed Evans about your 'mediocre' summer?"

As expected, Severus went bright red at Regulus' insinuations as he attempted and failed to make excuses for himself to avoid the dangerous topic that had sprang between them. It takes one to know one after all, one broken child to another.

"That's none of your—!"

"Perhaps not," Regulus conceded simply, lounging back in his seat, and purposely looking relaxed and unbothered by what he said shortly after.

"Though do stop by Madam Pomfrey," he gestured with his thumb at the other boy's awkwardly cradled hand in his robe pockets. "Your left wrist is healing wrong and I would hate for that to weaken your spell casting."

As if by an unspoken mutual agreement, neither of the Slytherin boy's spoke another word to one another on their journey to Hogwarts School. For Regulus, he would say that it was because he didn't want to be bothered and enjoyed the solitude to which the quiet offered. Though Severus would proclaim it was because the Black heir was a nosy brat with a god-complex, not unlike his blood-traitor brother.

When they finally arrived at the Hogsmeade station, Regulus felt an immense pressure relieve itself from his chest. This wasn't uncommon to the young Black heir however, as it happened nearly every year he returned to Hogwarts School after staying months in near isolation in Grimmauld Place. He didn't waste time in unloading his trunk, knowing that the carriages would fill soon and he'd rather not be subjected to any undesirable company—namely that of Sirius and his entourage.

Though he wasn't quite saved from that either, as Severus had apparently deigned him worthy of conversation yet again. Regulus couldn't say he was mad that the silence between them had been buried, but he had hoped for another quiet ride in solitude to the castle. Though even if Severus hadn't been speaking to him for the last part of the journey, Lily Evans surely would have chatted his ear off.

The redhead apparently had reached her quota of girl time with Meadowes and Mckinnon, and reattached herself to Severus' hip. Regulus would have made a comment about it but the unspoken truce between the oily haired boy and the glare at which he received, soon stopped him in his tracks. The impending arrival of the feast wasn't helping his nerves all that much either. He knew what he had to do, he knew it was in his best interest to make friends with the right sort— to no longer alienate himself out of preference. Though that didn't mean he had to enjoy it nor like it.

Lily Evans, always perceptive and observant, had noticed his sudden nerve spike however, and thought it appropriate to ask him about it whilst they waited to board the carriages. At first, Regulus hadn't bothered with replying to her— that however hadn't been the right way to go about it. Truthfully, he should have known better, seeing as he was, unfortunately, used to her presence via Severus. 

"Bloody Hell, Evans!" He cursed whilst feeling as though several of his toes had been broken from her stomping on his foot. At least it hadn't been a swift kick to the shin like most times. The bloody witch was going to be the reason for his shin splints in old age from how times she had whacked him. That of course was without mentioning how often she cuffed him behind the head— at least until second year when he learned to dodge. Mother's abusive tactics on discipline did have it's benefits.

"Don't ignore me, Regulus," She scolded lightly, with her eyes dancing with hidden mirth at the boys reaction. "I know you can hear me just fine."

Regulus huffed out an exasperated sigh as he attempted to persuade the girl to drop the matter. He knew that even if he did confide in her, which she had been pressing him to do for years, it wouldn't help the situation. The redheaded girl would be clueless on how to go about it even if she did attempt to give advice on the situation. It would be a meaningless conversation with an equally meaningless conclusion.

It was at this moment in time that Regulus was thankful that Severus had excused himself to go and drop off his luggage and left them both pointedly alone. More so because he didn't have two upperclassmen trying to delve into his personal problems and thoughts. Severus would have known instantly why he was so frazzled and would have been not only cruel but snide in his delivery of the news to Lily Evans. Who would have taken the information as a slight against her and used it against him.

Which was nothing new, to be perfectly honest. He was always crafted into being the villain of most situations, too quick-witted and untrusting. Regulus had always been good at playing the part, perhaps that was in part why Sirius had left.

"It's nothing of importance, Evans." He replied sharply, as he pulled at the sleeves of his pressed white shirt, which was hidden beneath his dark cloak. The Slytherin house emblem which was embroidered into the right side of his chest, seemed to almost glow with the few lanterns hanging around them.

Lily Evans glared at him disbelievingly. "Liar."

"Look," he sighed in exasperation, meeting her brilliantly green eyes for the first time in their mediocre argument. "—even if I wanted to tell you, you wouldn't understand. Just let it go."

"Wouldn't understand, would I?" She taunted with a roll of her eyes. Regulus applauded her attempt at trying to manipulate him, but she should have known that it was a pointless endeavour. He was raised in a primarily Slytherin household— not only that, but one that enjoyed to argue, taunt and manipulate everyone in the vicinity whenever available. "Try me."

"Evans, drop it." Regulus enunciated coldly and clear, trying to impose just how serious he was being at the present time.

It was not only getting tiresome to deal with her naive pestering, but irksome. The last thing he wanted to do was argue with her on likely his last possible conversation with her. He knew after the feast that night he would only put them both in danger should they continue their odd acquaintanceship. Likewise, he didn't want to hurt or burden her with strictly his own issues and pressures. Regulus was stressed and tired beyond comprehension and he was much closer to snapping and loosing control than he'd care to admit.

"Why? Is it becuase I'm Muggle born?" She snidely commented, her eyes turning to cold shards of emeralds and her cheeks puffing out slightly in agitation.

Every argument with the Gryffindor girl turned into a sparring battle of wits—commonly with her using her dirtied blood status as a guilt trip. Mostly to have Regulus scrambling on how to respond, because unlike most of his ancestors and family, he didn't buy into the blood-traitor and dirtied blood hypocrisy. A witch or wizard should be based on their skills and achievements alone, not their blood. Though if he ever voiced such thoughts he would be tortured endlessly in his own house, never mind what his pureblooded dorm mates would do once they caught wind of it. He'd be a dead man walking—a blood-traitor, just like Sirius.

"Honestly, Regulus," The witch continued in her rant, looking closer and closer to loosing her temper with him. A sight that was all too familiar to the Black heir. "I know your don't hate us all as much as you pretend too— I saw your reading bloody Shakespeare last year."

Regulus was at a breaking point, seconds from loosing the thinly held string he had on the infamous Black temper. He made it a point to not act out, to keep everything bottled up—it was safer, less catastrophic. Regulus Black refused to become like his mother and let the anger get the best of him, to hurt people almost subconsciously with no measure of control. He needed control in his life, like others needed air. Without control even of the most basic of things, like his thoughts or emotions he'd explode—, spontaneously and horrifically. Devastating anyone and anything in his path.

"Evans, just let it go." He tried for what had be the hundredth time, though this time he followed it with a barely coherent plea, "Just leave it—, please."

"Just tell me!" She all but shouted, a few students nearby glanced their way in confusion but quickly turned away once realizing whom was arguing with one another. "You're freaking out, and I can't help if you don't tell me what it is that's wrong!"

Like he knew he would if the conversation continued, Regulus lost control.

"I don't want your help!" He snapped at her, his cold and stoic persona lost to the wind as it all came bubbling out of him in waves—, tsunami like waves that crushed and flattened entire cities in their wake. He was as chaotic as a storm with his eyes shining like the star for which he was named, bright and an all consuming fire.

"For fucks sake, Evans! It's not because you're a Muggle born—I could give a damn about your fucking blood!" He was seething, with his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.

The students around them watched in both terror and awe, their previous conversations at a sudden and abrupt halt as they watched the horror show. It was common knowledge that Regulus Black didn't shout. He didn't scream or yell, or loose his temper—he was the quiet one, the odd one. Even Narcissa Black, now Malfoy as of last summer, had been prone to sudden and volatile outbursts, but not Regulus. Never, Regulus Black.

"It's because you're not from the Sacred Twenty-eight," he continued harshly, not backing down for even a second as he saw the glint of fear echoed in the girl's eyes as he lost it completely. "—You can't help me because you don't get it! Because despite what you think, you don't know me or my family at all."

With the waves pulling back, and the fires that had danced in his eyes vanquished to nothing but smoke, he coldly stated like that of ice. Barely above that of a bitter and quiet wind across an empty and frozen lake. The fire that had consumed him for no more than a second, had vanished into nothing but quiet winter winds and freezing temperatures.

"I'm not Sirius, Evans." He huffed with a sneer, "And you'd better fucking remember that."

"I know that," Lily finally spoke, after a moment of tense silence had passed between the two. Her voice now soft and echoing concern rather than her previous annoyance and exasperation. She added on, almost in reassurance to herself, rather than him. "I do know you, Regulus."

The Black heir had frankly heard enough, and promptly and unapologetically snapped at her without a second thought. "Fuck. Off."

Nothing else was said between the two and soon enough the students around them regained their previous conversations. Some hushed in whispers to one another, always glancing off to the pair that had fallen into an icy and desolate silence. Almost like in waiting for them to draw there wands and start cursing one another, or to fall into another argument to fuel their gossiping whispers and needs. Regulus knew the news would reach his mother by nightfall and wasn't excited for tomorrow's letters and lectures on the matter.

The carriages soon were opened, and the small groups of two's and three's began settling themselves inside in preparation for the last part of their journey to Hogwarts School. Regulus was more relived then he'd care to admit when Severus finally rejoined them at the carriages perch at the side of the road. Though admittedly, the thought and feeling was fleeting when the lanky haired boy raised a brow at the obvious tension between Lily Evans and Regulus Black. Thankfully, Severus didn't vocalize his confusion or interest in the matter and instead pulled his most lovely and precious Lily into conversation. Leaving Regulus to brood alone with his thoughts as he stared out the window to watch as the stars slowly came to life in the night sky.

The hues of orange and violet had just begun to fade, and likewise so did Regulus' anger at the redheaded girl. It wouldn't matter much longer anyway, as soon she would despise him for much more suitable reasons than not trusting her. He had warned her after all, on the first day she had met him on the train of his first year that she would be better off keeping her distance.

He was bound to be in Slytherin, he wasn't brave like Sirius or clever and witty enough to gain Ravenclaw or kind in a way Hufflepuff would accept. No, Regulus had always been a Slytherin, even before he knew what the word signified. He was cold and clever, often using his mind to gain the upper hand, he was silver tongued and ambitious— a perfect Black in that aspect.

Regulus could add cowardice to that list of course, and the infallible ability to ruin the most simplest of things. He had never been good, he had told Lily Evans that the first day he met her and she foolishly didn't believe him. It didn't matter how many times, Regulus had warned her that Black's ruined everything they touched, and that he wouldn't be any different. It was her own fault for not paying heed to his warnings. For once Regulus, in his miserable life, wasn't the one to blame.