REGULUS ARCTURUS BLACK
would've been easy to blend in a crowd of people, if it hadn't been for his eyes. The empty, stone cold expression in his eyes, that in consequence, hollowed out his face, made him seem like he was hardly in the world of the living. It was, perhaps, why people would deem him to be less beautiful than his elder brother, Sirius Black. Sirius brought the sun and its light, even in his grey eyes. Regulus had winter and its ice in them, the warning that life came to an end.
It was as if Sirius had been born for greatness, and Regulus for the shadows.
Regulus believed Sirius already knew that. He had finally come to realise it. But, still, something broke in him when he decided to act upon it, that summer. When he finally left him, in the shadow of what once had been home of the two brothers, something turned darker than those halls. Something that scarred, and burned, that would stay as a permanent reminder.
He carried these thoughts into the Hogwarts Express, that would take him right back to the castle for his fifth year, and he couldn't help it, he was glad. Maybe he shouldn't have been so glad to leave home, his parents, his house elf, but the feeling remained.
"Dickhead." The all too familiar thick accent of Lovina Selwyn grounded him right back to the present. "Where d'you think you're going?"
"To our part of the train, of course," Regulus answered, in an obvious tone, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of her, her hair, particularly, now blonde and bubblegum pink, "What did you do? Why are you here instead? What did you do?"
"Shaved my hair, regretted it, this was the only wig I had. Don't you like it?" Lovina deadpanned, "You don't want to be there. They'll be dropping pestilents and you'll have to take five showers. Again."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I do."
"But- but- that is the Slytherin part! We'll be surrounded by- by the commoners if we stay here! And these compartments don't even have a table, it's just ghastly!" Regulus complained, reluctantly dragging his feet inside, looking around the ridiculously small compartment. Was it just him, or did it smell like humanity?
"Merlin's good grace. No one wants to sit with us, anyway. It's this or your clothes ruined," Lovina said languidly, taking her seat back, and, having it all for herself, she put her boots up on it.
"Fine," Regulus agreed through his teeth, taking the seat across from her, making sure to keep his back very straight, "At least be civil? Keep your feet on the ground."
"What? They clean, now, don't they?"
"So what? You're adding up to the filth?" He retorted.
Lovina rolled her her eyes with feeling, but stamped her feet back on the ground, "You happy?"
"Seldomly." Regulus scoffed, but when a smile cracked into Lovina's face, he found himself doing the same.
As it would happen, the train set off, King's Cross Station became a blur, replaced by fleeting green landscapes, and the two had soon forgotten themselves between conversation, and an absentminded game of wizard chess with Regulus's marble set (not before Lovina had placed a protection charm on it, by his own request).
"You know that smoking will kill you, correct?" Regulus raised his eyebrows disapprovingly at the cigarette Lovina had whisked from one of her pockets. "Knight to E3." He looked back to the board between the two of them, his remaining black knight taking the desired position.
"We all get to pick our poison," Lovina said, cigarette lighting up the moment it touched her lips, "Queen to E3. Idiot." She added cockily, sliding part of the window open, otherwise Regulus would begin voicing his thoughts about the smoke.
But his eyes only light up maliciously as her queen stabbed his horse, and then his knight. "Bishop to E3. Bigger idiot."
"You withered psychopath." Lovina gasped quietly at the move, and Regulus's smile only lingered longer. She looked at him, challenging him to remain cocky, the train corridor visible through the glass door, seemingly calm, but Lovina knew better. She could hear voices, laughter, inherent mayhem in the distance.
And she knew the bubbles were beginning to pop, her face getting warmer, the hand that held her cigarette in place almost shaking as she chewed the inside of her cheeks. All a warning of the hatred that had begun to boil.
"I win," Regulus declared himself winner of the staring competition, his features turned into a pleased expression, "What are you doing?" He looked over his shoulder. On cue, the three Gryffindors rushed past their compartment. It was just a moment, but a moment was telling enough.
"Hurry up, now! We've got the Ravenclaw prefects on our tail!"
"I don't have a tail!"
"You're Wormtail!"
"Try carrying all these yourself then, if you're so quick!"
"I'm already carrying this whole group on my back!"
One of the grand parts about summer, was that Lovina did not get to see or hear about James Potter for a whole, incredible three months. Three months of blissful oblivion with absolutely nothing of him. Three months in which she could almost forget his ridiculous Liverpool accent, the way he pranced around the school like it was his property, that one joke he'd told the last year that had made even McGonagall smile, and how he thought he had everything under control if only he just smiled.
James Potter. Even the sound of his name, in her own head revolted her, in ways she could not fully describe.
"I told you," Lovina spoke gravely, almost through gritted teeth, "Pestilents." The ash of the cigarette had already piled on at its lit end, and she quickly flicked her wrist to let it fall, before Regulus had the chance to talk about hygienic practices.
Right enough, Regulus Black was not fond of James Potter, either. Not in the slightest, he'd concluded that. It was his fault. It was him that had ripped Sirius away from him. It was him, with his glorious words and golden promises that had done it. Because he was just so great. He was in Gryffindor, house of the pretentious, those who thought their ideas would triumph, just because they deemed their will strong enough. It was James Potter's fault. It was all his fault.
"Sirius left."
Lovina recognised the change in his appearance, he'd turned around and another person had come back.
"What?"
"Sirius left," Regulus repeated, jaw tensing as he met Lovina's eyes, "For good. He's out the house. My mother burnt him off the tapestry. It's done."
"Fuck," Lovina muttered, putting the cigarette out against the wall, no complaint was uttered.
"He told me, actually. Right before he did, he told me he'd do it," He continued, with a sudden, bitter laugh, "He had the boldness to tell me, and he didn't listen to a single damned word I said. I would've rather been talking to a wall. He didn't even look back."
A horrible silence fell upon them, a void they both knew was necessary.
"I wanted you to hear it from me," Regulus said, faintly nodding at his own words, now avoiding contact as he looked to the side, "I know this place. All these people will speak about it. I know. But I thought you should get it from me."
Lovina found herself without words. An atrocious force was pressing against her chest, that had nothing to do with her smoking habit. It was, as it often turned out to be, the weight of words. The weight of their significance. What were words, if not tools to understand reality? What were words, if not symbols that attempted to translate such reality into comprehension?
"I am sorry, Regulus."
"Should've known. All the signs were there." He shook his head at himself. His own throat had become heavy, it was getting harder and harder to swallow, his eyes had started resembling shattered glass. "He never cared about family. Not really."
The weight had somehow gotten heavier, almost asphyxiating her. Never cared about family. She cared. She did care. Lovina wasn't like Sirius Black... she wouldn't do such a thing. No. She wouldn't. She had to believe she wouldn't. For her sake. For Regulus's sake.
"You're still here," Lovina said, reaching out for his bony hand, strongly interlacing their fingers, "And you care. That should matter."
Hesitantly, erratically, Regulus nodded, clutching onto Lovina's hand tighter, both their knuckles were starting to look white, neither of them minded.
"He'd call Potter brother over me," He whispered with fragility, yet poison infected his every word, "I was his brother."
"You still have me." Lovina hadn't thought of her words when she spoke. Maybe that made them all the more. Maybe neither of them quite understood what that meant, but that didn't mean it was a lie.
Another pause, impossible to know how much time had gone by within it.
"Are you saying I've basically got nothing?" Regulus asked, finding a foreign strength wishing him to muster the smallest of playful smiles.
"Dickhead." It was word around the school that Lovina Selwyn never smiled, let alone laugh. Perhaps it was a curse, or her heart reduced to stone, but she never did, or so would people tell each other. And yet, Regulus Black watched her let out a chuckle, for his own comment.
They let go of each other's hands, finally realising how numb they were, Regulus more than her, but his fingers, delicate as they appeared, weren't that harmless at all!
"Fine— alright." Regulus waved his hand around, trying to soothe the pain away, slowly merging back to his collected facade, the more his face relaxed, "Your move."
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LUCY'S WORDS ˊˎ-
i don't hate my writing so far? there's something very weird happening for me to not hate it? STRANGE. very strange indeed. anyway. regulus black. that's all i've got to say.