( ❝ THOSE WHO ESCAPE DEATH ARE UNLUCKY ❞ )
REGULUS BLACK is that humming in the restless summer air. He is what is created in the untempered heat of a blazing fire. He is a moth, drawn to hollowness and resentment. And in that resentment, he built...
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Snow melted to reveal a spring brighter than the year before it, and then a summer hotter than all the summers Regulus could remember, combined. It wasn't so much the heat that stuck to Regulus like sweaty clothing as much as the angry hollowness of being inside his home for the remainder of the semester. There was no escape from the irate eyes of his father, and his mother in her tired voice, shrieking "you've done it this time, Regulus". He knew being suspended had not only disappointed his parents, but also caused them a great deal of embarrassment. In the first few weeks, their words hurt, slicing through the thick of his skin like razor blades. The effect wore off quite quickly after that; it certainly wasn't the first time Regulus was at the receiving end of their harsh criticism. He'd suffered the brunt of it after Sirius's departure, and allowed it to break him every time, before he carefully reconstructed a different person out of the pieces.
Thankfully, Lucius Malfoy's arrival signified the end of the monotonous hell that Grimmauld Place had become. Malfoy and Narcissa had spent their honeymoon getting brown and freckled on a sunny island off the coast of Sicily. Regulus was more than ready to leave home and travel to the Malfoys' vacation home in the humble Worcestershire countryside. His suitcase had been packed for months already and he had expended the majority of his suspension in his library, building a repertoire of theoretical knowledge worthy of being trained to excellence by a great wizard like Malfoy.
Before long, Regulus was on a train, Malfoy snoring on the blue velveteen seat across from him. He remembered leaving Hogwarts those months ago, the platform emptier than he had ever seen it considering it was the middle of the school year. Fern was there, strangely, to see him off, hugging the white fur of her jacket close to her as she waved him over.
"Will you write?" She asked him.
"Maybe," Regulus responded, knowing he wouldn't. "To Jonny, and Malcolm."
Fern frowned at this. "I know we've never been friends, Regulus, but consider my going to Dumbledore a mercy. It was killing you." She chewed her lips for a moment then gave Regulus a dark look, eyes like pinpricks. "And I couldn't let Jonny or Malcolm be punished for a crime you committed."
"Do you remember, Fern," Regulus said. "That you led Gerble there that night?" Fern seemed to shrink into her large jacket as Regulus took a step forward. He reached out and grabbed her hand, holding it up in the gap between his face and hers. "You may think you have honor but your hands," he said, dropping her arm and looking into the brown flurry of her eyes. "They're just as filthy as mine."
***
Malfoy's Italian style villa was on a hilltop overlooking a forest of redwood and fir that acted as a divide between his property and a tiny Muggle village. Regulus had enjoyed exploring the lavish walls of the villa on the first day, falling asleep at early sunset on a bed of silk duvets and plush feather pillows in the room he was given.
