- ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴜs ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ
"You. Me. Hogsmeade. Tomorrow" Romie demands, leaving no room for objection.
Regulus slowly lifts his head from his book, briefly wondering if he's managed to land himself into a similar alternate dimension,
"Come again...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
꧁✧✧✧꧂
𝕽egulus quickly peers over his shoulder, checking the coast is clear, before slipping through the door.
The stiff, alder door that his twelve year old self, naturally bright and unfailingly curious, had stumbled across during one of his exploring of Hogwarts castle. Unlike other hidden rooms, secret passage ways and forgotten hideouts he'd discovered, this one he visits on a frequent basis, unable to forget the mystery inside. Sometimes the visits were awfully short, abandoned with a sharp slam of the door. Sometimes the visits were regrettably lengthy, every minute like a grain of sand in an hour glass, adding to the heavy weight of his melancholy heart.
Because Regulus likes to that to himself on those sometimes, likes to torment himself in a way that his parents never could with their contemptible curses and despicable words. This was a different kind of torture that he indulges in.
The torture of his own mind.
Exhaling deeply, he strides right towards what's evilly beckoning his name, deciding against small footsteps to work himself up to it. No need, he might as well just dive right in to the cold, dark deep end. And just like every single visit, the awfully short and the regrettably lengthy, the same thing happens. The impossible becomes possible. The far-fetched becomes credible. One becomes two. Strangers become brothers again.
Sirius joins him step, close enough to playfully bump shoulders as Regulus has seen him do with James Potter more times than he can count. But Potter isn't here right now, making Sirius grin that stupidly soul-lifting, heart-mending, genuine grin. Potter isn't the one that's making him laugh that silly barking laugh, the one where his chest puffs out and his head throws back, whipping his silky raven locks all over the place. Regulus is. Regulus' heart is. Regulus' poor, mean heart.
Regulus' poor, mean heart that knows if roles were reversed, if Sirius was the one standing before this ancient, ornate mirror with strange clawed feet and a cobwebbed golden frame, he wouldn't be seeing the same thing. Because what Sirius' heart desires the uttermost is the preservation of his new family, the one he abandoned Regulus for and never looked back. Fun and foolish James Potter, stupid and spineless Pettigrew and most importantly, intelligent and incredible Remus Lupin.
Sirius would choose them in a heartbeat — did choose them in a heartbeat. He'd probably choose the kind, loving Potter parents and chic, ruling Gryffindor girls next too, bumping Regulus right down the list. A slimy and sly Slytherin, unworthy of the bold and brave lionheart's consideration. Regulus scoffs, ducking away from the figurative leather-clad arm casually slinging across his shoulders.
This would definitely fall into the awfully short, ending with a sharp slam of the door visit category.
"Comment peux-tu être si facilement libre de moi, alors que je ne serai jamais libre de toi?" Regulus grunts darkly as the door shuts behind him, fists clenched and jaw squared.
