17 - The First Storm
Platform 9¾ was packed-up, hands waving to the steaming scarlet engine, Hogwarts Express. Train whistle was booming, white steam faded, escaping out of metal at last evaporated in the air. The Irish witch stepped off the train, with bed-head face and dutch braided hair her dorm-mate, Jo Meadowes persuaded her to do her hair that morning.
It wasn't as perfect as earlier, tussled from the amount of friction between her head and Martin's stiff shoulder while she instructed him to not move. As she fell asleep on their journey home.
"I hate you." Martin groaned, stretching his arms with his backpack clung loosely on the other arm. She grinned cheekily at him, while the two squirmed in the middle of the packed platform. "I can't believe you talked me out of that."
"Come on, Marty." Gemma began, now hoisting her foreign owl cage, "It was just an hour. Besides, don't you want to help catch my beauty sleep?"
"Beauty sleep my ass." Martin heard his shoulder made a pop sound and Gemma's eyes jotted open at that, "You heard that? Do you know the effort I have to do to keep still?"
Gemma chuckled silently, as the two stood threw their gaze around them. Martin stood tall between the crowd as he easily spotted Marlene on a tame-spat session with Sirius Black. He grinned, elbowing the witch by her side.
"I told you." Apollo began with a smirk. The witch tiptoed to peer Marlene gave a parchment to Sirius, and Gemma smiled. "They have a facade."
"Most of us do." Gemma's eyes flew to Martin as he sighed softly.
Then her gaze landed upon Rosier's photogenic side profile. He ran his fingers through his hair, he scanned around the platform. Next to Rosier, a boy dressed in sacramento green shirt, his hands rolled his sleeves up to his elbow. His raven silky hair was styled in alluring waves that revealed his sharp jaw line, skin covered with sheen under the sun. He was living art, carried himself with such elegance that served him right for being the perfect Black heir.
Gammaliel remembered his mannerism. Since the passing out incident, Black always walked her back to the Ravenclaw tower after their little session. Or how the Slytherin managed his determination in mastering transfiguration spell bloomed adoration in her. Her Irish cheeks burned by the sun rays. Though, it was one cloudy summer day. It was a crime to look that good, Gemma shook her head as she tried to find her brother. Martin peered down at her, she dug her hand to her jeans pocket to get a grip of herself.
"What's with you?" Marty cocked an eyebrow as she shook her head briskly, "You're all red now. Are you crushing on me, Gem?"
Gemma shot up, "You wish, McKinnon."
The Irish witch smirked as the blond boy grinned before a voice called up her name. They shot away to their 1 o'clock and found a lady was waving with a bone-white dress with a walking stick by her side. The witch waved back to the lady.
"Oh my — here we go again." said Gemma with a gritted teeth, flashing a too-sugary smile.
"Gammaliel!" The lady called again, around the lady there were at least two aurors. Their eyes flew to Gemma, one of them pacing swiftly to the girl.
Martin twisted to the side facing her, "I guess that's your cue." he began, staring down at the girl, "Write me if you get bored."
The Merlin heiress nodded, offering a short side hug to the blond before she released him over the voice of someone clearing their throat. The young witch and wizard shot up to find an auror in training smiled down at them.
"Miss Zygo, it's better if we hurry back at home, and your brother—"
"I know." Gemma cut off with a sigh, she glanced at the blond once more. "Bye Marty!"
The girl smiled before she twisted following the guy in suits to the welcoming lady in white on the other corner. And Apollo adored Persephone in the finest distance. The boy watched her hair swinging beautifully behind her. He palmed his chest through his white shirt, hoping adrenaline left his body to calm his hammering heart.
The sickening butterflies had lived in Apollo's stomach for so long. His eyes motioned to follow her shadow, while the lady kissed the girl's cheeks and spoke some Gaelic to her. She smiled as the lady flung her hand over her shoulder, darted out of the platform followed by the aurors and vanished from his sight.
"Don't stare!" a sharp elbow pushed his biceps from the side forcefully as he shifted to his left. He groaned dramatically, narrowing his eyes as he tore his gaze to the source, where a golden-haired girl was standing by his side, grinning. "Trapped in a friendzone are you, no?"
"Oh shush." Martin rolled his eyes, he peered down to lift Shadow's cage. She purred, awaken from her long hours of nap. At the sight of the norwegian cat Marlene flinched, "Better than playing cats and dogs with your toe-rag."
Marlene's crystal eyes shot wide at that and cherry was coloring her cheeks. "Wait I — you —what?" the blonde folded her arms over her chest.
"Ah - tat - shush! You owe me." The boy sniggered on her blushing face, grinning wider as he went on, "Five, Mar. It's five galleons!"
"Five galleons?!" Marlene's timbre raised, her chest heaving with a scoff, "What's that for?"
Martin's mischievous grin appeared, "That or you want Dad knows you're snogging Black—"
"I didn't!"
"You didn't." The younger sibling began, wiggling his brows before he sing-songed, "But if I said that you did, he will believe me anyway."
Martin stomped her shoes, "Hell no!"
"Okay, Dad!" Martin chanted, the blonde muffled his mouth with her hand as she pulled the boy's head to level her lips. "Dwad me—"
"Ugh! Fine, five now shut up!" Marlene grumbled slipping a few shiny coins to her brother's pocket in a swift motion, pouting in annoyance, "Come on! mum and dad are waiting!"
***
Argument was the only thing booming in Regulus's ears once he arrived at number twelve Grimmauld place. Gentle breeze brushed his face and an owl was hooting on the windowsill, drinking from a cup. In the middle of London's summer air, he breathed yet still felt suffocating. What was the use of living in the middle of muggles if they had to hide?
Regulus's chest heaving down, he settled himself in his room, sun rays hit from the velvet curtains on his window. The quiet boy sighed, leaning against the carved wooden headboards, silver-colored with an accent of serpents on it. The decor highlighted his Slytherin, pure-blood heritage, with a Black family crest — a raven painted over the bed.
His silver eyes were onto the coffee-stained paper on his hand. A letter from Rosier from the other day, that the coffee-freak boy would be visiting his family in France and that Rosier won't be able to send a reply as soon as per usual. Regulus darted his eyes away, feeling void now that Rosier won't be replying to him at least for two or three days.
Regulus stirred and stared at the stacks of books he read during the past few days since he arrived at home. He was doing research — he assured himself that no, he wasn't looking at Gammaliel of Merlin's background. He was just reading.
Arthurian legends stormed and took a percentage of his used brain. There were so many versions of them and it wasn't surprising for him. A good tale would be told in various ways, various points of view and virtues. No wonder there were a lot of them, so far he shoved three copies to done-reading stack.
He pondered again, what he was looking for? He blinked and stared up to the silver ceiling. Regulus had never been so distracted, before her. His aim was to be the Black heir and stick to his value. Or what others called an arrogant blood-supremacist. His life was supposed to be set on goals, maybe if the war would be over soon. He could find a place for himself in this world. A potioneer perhaps?
Yet, Walburga had told him that the Dark Lord would win this war. And in the end, the world would work in his favor, a macabre mindset wasn't it? But it was the only possible outcome these days. It was like a great purge for mudbloods— Oh, if Gammaliel heard him said mudblood she would be — Regulus knocked his head to the headboard.
"What the hell I was thinking?" he groaned, eyes shut as he smacked his head again with the palms of his hands, "Stop thinking of her!"
Merlin, the Irish witch was the source of chaos and insubordination. Ever since the witch tried to blackmail him — in which she failed miserably. She ruined the order in his life. He had to rearrange and got involved in her sentiment nature. That or he would feel guilty for the girl.
Since when do you even feel, Regulus?
The voice inside his head came, Regulus sighed allowing himself to calm down. Perhaps, brand new oxygen would allow his brain to think the right matter instead of her bloody blue eyes — ah fuck!
Regulus raised his hand, running his lanky fingers through his hair multiple times. Think, it wasn't an illusion that her eyes glowed during potion. What was that, did it has anything to do with her blood? He couldn't find literary to explain or decipher her. It dreaded his being to bits. The veins on his hand popped emerald against his pale skin.
There must be a reason for it, it was one black hole in his galaxy that he couldn't explain what happened back then. She sucked all normalcy left in his mind, to her and only her. She was like a storm, she damaged everything she came across, — in this case, Regulus's pretty little mind.
Irritation drove him to get distracted, he would ignore anything just to discover what Gammaliel did to him? Oh dear Hades, he had his circle of hell. But dear Persephone could grow flower in the depth of people's mind — his hellish mind. She won.
The frustrated boy tore his gaze to the advanced potion-making laid on his bed by his side. He didn't know why he received muggle trash. With apparent frustration, he grabbed it and opened the first page of Sherlock Holmes.
***
London was pouring, water speared the asphalt and cone pavements mercilessly. Thunder was stroking gallantly outside Grimmauld place number twelve but the real storm was clashing inside the manor.
The sound of muggle music brought by Freddie Mercury booming in the walls. As Walburga Black strolled from the ground floor climbing up through the stairs with eyes reddening, fury glossed on her features. Her raven hair tucked neatly in an elegant bun hair-do.
"Sirius Orion Black!"
Followed by a loud slam of the door. The older brother opened his room's door and poked his head lazily through the gap. Ignoring the fuming huff the black saint had.
"Is this yours?" The woman exclaimed, raising a book and the cover was ripped. Revealing the real content of the book, it wasn't potion. It was a novel created by muggle. Sirius's mouth left agape, the black saint stepped forward inclined and shove the book near to his face with fury.
"Is this your possession or not, Sirius?" shouted the lady on his face, her voice echoed at the same time as thunder hit the skyline outside.
The older Black knew whom the book belonged to but he never expected it to be in his house. Which only meant that — he darted his eyes do a figure of his younger brother left starstruck and rooted where he stood. Hand gripped the stairs holder, and colors was drawn off his face. Tensed filled the air, as the boy was staring at the book their mother held.
Regulus heard his heart hammering as adrenaline entered his blood. He couldn't blink knowing that he only left the book for a split second and it was in his mother's possession. He gulped the bitterness of what punishment awaited him. The way his blood boils of his stupidity, why would he read it in the first place.
The boy gripped the stairs handle as his veins on his throat bobbed from his tensed up jaw. He parted his lips to admit his wrong-doing, and for once he was ready to receive the punishment. But then.
"It's mine." came Sirius' voice, admitting the book ownership. Regulus's eyes darted swiftly to his brother's who stared chivalrously at the woman. The older stepped out and stood properly in front of his door, "I mean dear Mother, who owns these muggle items besides me in this house?"
Regulus froze, an invisible log pressed against his chest when Sirius' innocent gaze pierced to his own. Guilt jabbed his being, and his soul squeezed at the vile crawling on his throat. His lips parted to blurt and slip the words that it was him. Not Sirius.
"Mother." Regulus called with a brittle voice, Sirius gave a slight headshake at him.
The woman shredded the book into pieces in front of him and he felt his heart pinched. True he shared the same view as his mother of how hostile and filthy mudbloods were. But it wasn't just a book she tore to pieces, it was a token of trust. He felt his throat was restrained and his voice got fainter.
Why did he feel this way?
He winced, his silver eyes polished with a layer of aqua, threatening to burst out.
Don't feel, Regulus. You do not feel.
"Why do you have to do that?" questioned the boy coldly, eyes glaring at the shredded papers. Regulus masked his brittle voice into a raspy timbre.
Walburga stirred, "To teach your brother how to behave. That we shouldn't associ—"
"It has meaning!" Regulus' timbre boomed in the room. Hades had no feelings, true. But at times, he could do an act of wrath. And this was one. "You can ban us to not possess muggle items. But you do not have the right to destroy it!"
"Regulus!" Walburga was flabbergasted. She pulled away as her burgundy lips parted.
"You do not talk to your mother like that!" The lady said in final, flashing gritted teeth and a silver wand. Yet Hades oh, Hades feared no death. Sirius caught a glimpse of her wand. He shifted and stood before the younger boy, rage filled Regulus's blood.
"It is mine!" Sirius claimed exasperatedly, "I told you it is mine do not take it out on him!"
Walburga pressed her wand to the Gryffindor's boy jaw, and he scurried his fear. Then madness lashed out in Grimmauld place. Anger took the color of red, and Sirius shielded the star that was Regulus.
"You live in my house, then you have to obey this house rule!" Walburga chanted, and Sirius fell silent before grim glossed his face.
"Then I don't see the reason why I'm staying in this damned house!" he spat, darting to his room.
Walburga's yell echoed as he felt his blood boiled, snatching his trunks and clothes into one. Regulus snapped out of his rage as it grew to desperation. Don't, Regulus wished to say out loud but he was grimacing on what left of the book on the floor that started this mess.
No, don't leave.
The boy shot up to find Sirius swiftly took his large trunks without glancing at him, climbing down the stairs and passed him and Walburga. "Once you leave you are never allowed to come back!"
Don't, Sirius.
Regulus clenched his fist tighter as his nails dug red to his palm. Sirius glanced over his shoulder, he scoffed in disgust. The front door yanked open and the older brother figure vanished as the door shut.
Another domino fell.
Author's note:
What do you think?
I feel so bad for Reg
just for writing this.