Power. Everyone wants it, few can acquire it. Reputations contribute to power, especially when they are positive towards the group you're aiming to please. If the population is looking for someone with raw power that is untamed and unfiltered, a harsh and volatile reputation is necessary for success. However, if the people are looking for someone to mediate situations and put an end to the violence that rages on, a pristine reputation may work in the person's favour.
But every so often, a strange case comes around where there's a blurred line between the good and the bad reputation. An untamed power source with the desire to put an end to the horrific killings and destruction of the world as they know it. Or, the person could have that unfiltered power buried within them, waiting for the coercion of someone who matches their abilities to lead them into the light.
Typically, that style of story follows the paths of light and dark. But that's not quite the case here. A dark shadow is still birthed from the light, though it's more ignored than acknowledged. Except for some people who take it along with them as a source of power to tap into.
Reputations precede people, and wariness is a common response. But what happens when the person people may be wary about, has unknown intentions, even to themselves?
-----
Lyra felt the colour drain from her face as he swept into the room. Scarlet eyes that appeared to be watching everyone yet not moving all at once. His waxy skin glistened under the candlelight of Grimmauld Place, the veins around his face prominently blue. Perhaps he was as handsome as some believed him to be, but now, he was merely a shell of a man turned inside out and bleached. There was nothing appealing about the snake slits of his nose and the way he waltzed into the room as though he were floating. The Dark Lord's gnarly fingers gripped the infamous wand and he brandished it around the room.
"Everything alright, my Lord?" Orion questioned, watching Voldemort with an intrigued eye as he surveyed the room.
Lyra had to grip onto the armchair to keep herself from darting from the dining room as his straight edged wand found its home pointing towards her. The room fell into an expecting silence and Lyra simply prayed her inside emotions weren't screaming onto her face. The terrifying smile that broke onto Voldemort's grotesque face curdled whatever food Euphemia had fed Lyra in her stomach and it took everything for it not to come roaring back up. Everyone's eyes were attached to Lyra's still frame, wondering, questioning, what it was the Dark Lord wanted from her, or with her.
"A Potter?" He hissed, not a venomous sound, but it seemed that was the only tone he was capable of, "The Potter at that."
"I'm sorry?" Lyra gawked; her voice surprisingly calm at the words he spoke.
"Of course, you are unaware," Voldemort continued, rounding the table at a snail's pace, his precious Nagini following behind, "Dumbledore has a habit of refuting information."
"My Lord," Bellatrix spoke up, only to be silenced by a pointed glare from the cloaked figure, "My apologies."
When the Dark Lord found his way behind Lyra, she refused to copy the others and watch him. Instead, she set her shoulders high and stared across the table at Walburga, a stone-cold look in her eyes. Even when those ghostly hands slowly ran through the underside of her hair, caressing the golden locks before leading them fall back onto her shoulders. Everything inside of Lyra wanted to run and get as far from this hellscape as she possibly could, but she knew that everything would implode if she did that.
"Such an oddity," Voldemort whispered, "A blonde in the Potters. Green eyes at that. Beautiful."
"Thank you," Lyra returned, her voice oddly steady that shocked her, "My Grandmother, I inherited her physical genetics."
"And your mental morals? Who did you inherit those from?"
"No one, my Dark Lord."
"Good girl," Voldemort snickered, "Well done Regulus, you completed your task beautifully."
Lyra saw red.
-----
When dinner was dismissed, Lyra made a point to linger around Voldemort and far from Regulus. She wanted to speed the process up, get close to the Dark Lord instead of following the little tasks Regulus wished to. The last thing she wanted was to allow him to pick up on the cracks that had appeared in her shell. But then again, perhaps he wouldn't care either way, if she was simply a task for him to complete.
After a solid 20 minutes of talking up the Dark Lord, Lyra slid from the room like a snake and darted up the various stairs towards the room she would be staying in. The sounds of footsteps following behind her alerted her of the fact he had noticed her leaving. The sick feeling in her stomach was worse than anything that Sirius had caused her, even the words he shot at her that made her wonder her worth. She truly believed that her and Regulus were close friends, he had been the one she confided in on her feelings about her brother.
Perhaps that was what he was aiming for the whole time. Locating those weaknesses and exploiting them to the point where he could get whatever he wanted out of her. Regulus had longer legs than the blonde, so she couldn't shut the door in his face fast enough before he came bursting in and slamming it shut, muttering both a silencing and locking charm.
"I'd rather be alone right now," Lyra hissed, "Master Black."
"Lyra let me explain," Regulus pleaded, walking towards the girl from across the room, she was quick to turn her back to him, "Lyra it's not what you think?"
"And what is it?" Lyra questioned, "Actually, no. I don't want to know. Get out."
"I'm not leaving until you talk to me."
"We're talking right now. Bye."
"Lyra," Regulus pleaded once again, gripping her shoulders, and turning her to face him, "Is that what it started as? Yes, but it wasn't just that."
"What was it then?"
"The Dark Lord told me he had given the task to someone else as well," Regulus whispered, his breath fanning across her face, "I suspected Pierre, I had to get there first and protect you. If it were Pierre or whoever, I knew you'd be hurt. I couldn't let that happen, so I got to you first. I didn't intend to..."
"Intend to what?" Lyra whispered, her chest heaving as she noticed how class the two were to one another, their noses nearly touching.
"I didn't intend to fall in love with you."
You'd think a girl would be pleased to hear those emotion-filled words. You'd think that Lyra would be pleased to know that someone loved her for more than just what she could physically offer. But that wasn't the case. The first thing she thought of was those obsidian dark eyes and the crooked smirk that sent her into a fit of fury. The way his neck tensed, and hair fell perfectly onto his face. The way the silence fell over the two was deafening and she knew that she'd have to say something quick, or he would be left a shell of a boy. The last thing Lyra wanted was Regulus Black to become another heart she broke.
"I love you too."
Sirius.
The lips that crashed against hers were foreign and odd. They didn't quite fit together, but she was sure that it would work out. He cupped her face with cold hands, not the same warmth that she had felt earlier caressing her hip. Lyra raised her hands and tangled them into the heavy curls that sat atop of his head, tugging gently, and eliciting a moan to leave the younger Black brother's mouth. Lyra returned with a blissed-out sigh, stumbling backwards with the boy towards the large bed and collapsing back onto it.
His jacket was first to come off, starting the pile that would quickly grow as they tore each other's clothes off in a feverish hurry. She had never seen Regulus free of a long sleeve and his shoulders were something that appeared to be sculpted from marble. His deep hazel eyes stared at Lyra as she laid sprawled on the bed, deep red bra and panties sticking out against the deep green of the comforter. The perfect contrast.
Lyra couldn't bring herself to look below his upper body, knowing what sat on his forearm like a beacon of regret. Regulus stared down at Lyra like a predator, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike on his wounded prey. The blonde beneath him withered slightly at the lack of touch, awaiting his strike. Lyra propped herself up on her elbows, staring back at him in defiance. She was quick to stand, only to finger a grip on her neck forcing her back down onto the bed.
"Oh no," Regulus chuckled, "That's not how this goes."
Lyra tilted her head to the side, grinning at the way his hand squeezed when she moved. She knew it wasn't him that she wanted to be standing above her, awaiting the moment she broke and allowed him in. She had a sneaking suspicion he was aware of this as well, seeing as they stared in silence, adjusting to what was about to occur. Lyra had to keep his name on her lips to remember the fact it was him that was about to pounce upon and mark her, not the one she truly desired or loved. His touch was different than his elders, more possessive and less freeing. She felt encased by Regulus when he leaned over her, a new power balance taking place of the one that previously ruled their relationship.
The touch of Regulus Black was vastly different than that of his brother. Sirius held Lyra with a sense of warmth and longing, but there was a lack of both in the way that Regulus handled the blonde. He was quick to crash his lips to hers once more, possessing her with a feverish need for his touch. After all, Regulus had nothing to long for. He already had what he wanted, even though beneath him was the girl he loved, dreaming of his brother.
His kiss was harsh and unyielding, pushing Lyra deeper into the abyss without a foot to land on. All she could smell was the intoxicating scent that was both Black brothers. Deep mahogany with a sense of wickedness and corruption. It swept over Lyra unexpectedly as the back of her bra became loose, exposing the mounds in the front. Regulus didn't bother glancing at the shocked look on the blondes face as he found his home, lips tugging and teasing.
Lyra was quick to realize this was most likely not going to be about her pleasure, or his, perhaps just an unsaid spur of emotions that both needed to release. The curly haired boy was far from a gentle lover, biting and nipping at the sensitive flesh before quickly finding his way down the rabbit hole towards the most sensitive areas. Lyra had no fighting chance as her underwear was torn away without a second thought, leaving her completely vulnerable to the boy in front of her.
Despite the confessions, both Lyra and Regulus knew what was going on inside the formers head. Not the Black between her legs, diving into her like a man unhinged, starving, and wanting more. No, instead, it was the one sitting in the Potter home with her family, laughing and sharing stories or singing classic muggle Christmas songs. She would give anything to be curled next to anyone in that home, away from the cold and gripping walls of Grimmauld Place that seemed to be whispering deep desires to the blonde.
"Such a good girl."
It took no time for Regulus to release himself from the cavern between Lyra's legs, discarding of his pants without a look at her. His hands gripped onto hers with a bruising feeling, flipping the older girl onto her front and lining himself up. The feeling of him was pleasurable, stretching, tugging, hitting every right spot as he sheathed his length deep within her. Lyra wouldn't have been able to hold in the moan if she tried and instead allowed it to roll from her tongue just as his had across her heat.
"Should've done this sooner," Regulus hissed, fingers returning to her hips and snapping her backwards with no remorse, "Such a pretty girl, all ready for me."
Lyra pursed her lips as she let her eyes flutter shut, the pleasure too much for her to handle. She was glad she consented to the actions, having been unable to find such pleasure in such a long time. Regulus was no horrid lover and managed to find every spot that Lyra knew and held secret. It was as though he knew her body inside and out, more than she did. The way he spoke and held her was a constant beacon of hope as the ever so lovely feeling tugged deep within her stomach.
Lyra allowed herself to sing the chorus, squealing at the way his thrusts would grow harsher the more she let out. Perhaps she may love Sirius, but she could fall in love with Regulus, she was sure of it. There was nothing left for her to do with the elder Black brother, but the younger one was a book waiting for her to be read. Perhaps cursed, perhaps holding secrets that not even a brave Gryffindor like the blonde could handle. But a book, nonetheless, waiting for someone to crack open and understand.
"Godric!" Lyra shouted, slamming her fist onto the bed, and letting out an animalistic groan, "Merlin's beard, Regulus!"
"Ya like that don't ya?" Regulus chuckled darkly, his tone something that Lyra never expected to hear, "Like it when I use you like this? All mine, baby."
All his. Lyra was all his. Sirius kept flashing in front of her eyes, warning her of the danger she was walking directly into with the Black family, with Regulus. The look in his eyes when she declined her staying at the Potter manor, backing away from the kiss that would have changed the entire course of their story, it was something that Lyra couldn't replicate. His eyes seemed to watch her slip away, walking backwards to the edge of a cliff with a thick blindfold covering her forest green eyes.
An arm placed itself beside Lyra's head, and she just about threw up. The dark mark sat as reminder of just who it was that Lyra was doing this for. She was sacrificing everything to save those that she loved. James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, etc. Everyone. It was her that was doing the dirty work, allowing such vile things to be said, uttering the same things back to those she swore to take down.
What sickened her though was the reminder of who she had sheathed deep inside of her. Regulus Black, infamous Black heir and sole survivor of Walburga's torture. He had sought Lyra out as a task for the Dark Lord, recruiting her in a way that Lyra didn't understand. He said it was to protect her, to keep her away from Pierre. But she had yet to see the French student wandering the halls of Grimmauld Place, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Regulus's member hit a particular sensitive area, sending Lyra fumbling forward onto her face. He wasted no time grabbing the curled blonde tresses with the same arm that had her worst nightmare painted upon it. Regulus was quick to yank, arching the blondes back to an uncomfortable position, elevating the pleasure he was causing her.
"Can't even keep yourself up right," Regulus mocked, "Guess it's a good thing I got you, hm?"
Lyra nodded as best as she could, wincing at the tug on her scalp. Her release built up faster than she would have liked and it took a few more minutes of grunting and gasping before both her and the Black heir collapsed forward, his seed slowly slipping away from her. Lyra wiped a hand across her face, the dark eye makeup she wore following suit.
Regulus rolled off her, tugging her sweaty and naked body tight against his. His lips found her forehead, soothing her as her breathing returned to normal. It had been a while since she had felt such an immense sense of pleasure absolutely obliterate her senses, leaving her dumb and needy in his arms. Regulus caressed Lyra's arm with gentle fingers, causing goosebumps to appear across her fair skin.
"We'll rule the world one day, Lyra Potter."
Sirius.