vivat regina
Regulus and Blair, in all their eleven-year-old glory, hold court in a train compartment of the Hogwarts Express. Regulus and Blair are seated across from each other. Narcissa is sprawled elegantly to her left, staring out the window.
Lucius Malfoy, a second year, is seated to her right, his back ramrod straight. It is understood that Blair Cassiopeia and Lucius Nathaniel will be married when they are of age. She is required to marry a powerful man, of course. Lucius will be one of those, and an obscenely wealthy one, at that. Her father and Abraxas Malfoy have already celebrated over elf-made wine. Blair doesn’t mind. Their children will be beautiful. She hopes they inherit Lucius’s platinum blonde locks.
Regulus is surrounded by some of their other compatriots: Charles Zabini, also a second year, idly eyeing Blair and Lucius with a faint curiosity, Penelope Parkinson, fluttering her eyelashes at Regulus, and Bartemius Crouch Jr., hunched over a book.
Sirius should be here as the Black heir, naturally, but he is off gallivanting with his Gryffindor cohorts: fellow blood traitor James Potter, heir to the Potter fortune, the werewolf Remus Lupin (Blair had figured that one out pretty quickly; Sirius was not exactly subtle in his forays into the Black library), and the unremarkable Peter Pettigrew. Blair makes a moue of distaste.
Before boarding the train, Sirius jokes, “You going off with the snakes, Reggie and Blair bear? Or are you jumping ship with me?” He says this with an easy grin. Sirius is effortlessly disarming, and she can’t help but adore her eldest brother, unaristocratic tendencies aside.
“Never,” Blair tells him in a supercilious tone. Regulus merely lazily flips him off. She has always been the most prim and proper Black child, at any rate.
Blair sees her reflection in the window and smiles. While not a striking beauty like Narcissa, who is all long legs and silky blonde hair, she is considered lovely in pureblood circles, Walburga’s endless criticism notwithstanding.
She is delicate, mirroring Regulus’s elfin bone structure. (Sirius has the same delicate lines, but most definitely towers over the both of them, despite a measly age gap of only two years.) Her eyes are wide and expressive; her dark brown curls fall gracefully past her shoulders. And Blair, unsurprisingly, carries herself with the poise of one so much older, as women born into wealth are wont to do.
Blair feels the train slowing. “Out,” she tuts imperiously at the men. “Narcissa and I have to change into our robes.”
Penelope Parkinson hesitates. Blair sighs. “Fine, Penny. You can stay too.”
Blair slips into her robes with a satisfied sigh. Ruling Hogwarts will be easier than she thought.