Chapter Text
IPSWICH. OCTOBER, 1979
Regulus can't remember waking up, he just knows his eyes are heavy and his body feels comfortable, with a blanket covering only one of his legs and the bedsheets half tucked out from the mattress. He tries his best to get his eyes fully open, but he finds it pretty hard since the sun is shining bright and going through the gaps in the curtains. The bed smells like his mother, and it makes him want to go back to burying his head in the pillows. He stretches his arm onto the bed, still with his eyes closed, trying to reach for his mother, because if the bed smells like her, she should be here. He finds nothing, but that's not what makes him open his eyes.
The sun is too bright and he feels too rested and it's Tuesday. He has class today, he knows his only classes are in the morning, starting with maths, then english and geography and he stands up too quickly and ends up seeing it all black. Regulus sits back down, rubbing his eyes. He slowly can see again, and looks around his surroundings. That's not his house.
The room he is in right now has a pretty window with the curtains shut, but the sun still goes through them. It has a wooden door that is completely shut. There's not much in the room but one single bedside table, with nothing on it. Regulus opens the two drawers of it, but they're empty. He stands up, slower this time, and walks to the door. The doorknob is a sphere, and it doesn't really fit his hand. It doesn't belong to his hand to hold, and that's weirder than the way his hand sits on it and struggles to twist it with slightly sweaty palms.
He pushes it open slowly, poking before fully opening it, immediately noticing that the house is small enough to be called a mobile home or something like that. He shuts the door behind him, scared that a monster could come out of it at any moment.
"Mum?" he calls out, his voice coming out weak and shaky. Step noises fill the deadly quiet place, but Regulus barely feels his legs as they move him around.
He hears a dog barking outside, and cars passing by, and this is not his house or his neighbourhood, because no one around his neighbourhood owns a dog and the street is calm and people don't pass by there with their cars all the time. He finds himself in a sort of living room, with only a small couch and armchair and a coffee table. The place where there should be a TV doesn't have one, and thinking about it makes him think about his mother again, with all the memories he has of them on their couch in their home. But this is not it, and he calls for his mother again.
Again and again he calls for her, walking around the unknown place he has found himself in, as he walks to the bathroom and finds no one, walks by the tiny kitchen and finds the same thing he found in the bathroom— nothing. Regulus goes to the other side of the house, only to find a bedroom with a wardrobe that has both doors open, revealing that it's empty. There is a made twin bed, with a closed shoebox on it, beside a jumper he knows damn well. It's his mother's, and he knows it because she loves it and uses it at every chance she gets. Other than that, he knows it's hers because of the smell that finds his nose the moment he takes it in his hands and approaches it from his face.
Still holding her jumper, he reaches for the shoebox and opens it. There is more than one thing in it, but the first that catches his eye is that picture that was in his mother's wardrobe back in their house, apparently hidden away from him. There is a paper clip attached to it, and he turns the picture to see it holding a small piece of paper behind it. The paper has two notes on it. The first one says: I knew you had found this long ago. His stomach drops instantly. She's gonna be mad when she comes back, she was just waiting for the opportunity to tell him she knew about it. His eyes read the second the second note, and he immediately frowns. It says: this is Sirius at 6 years old.
Who the fuck is Sirius? Isn't that him in the picture?
He drops the picture back into the box and reaches for an envelope, which has Regulus written in the back of it. There is another similar envelope, but with Sirius written in the back, and that envelope seems older than Regulus', which Regulus doesn’t even touch, like it’s some sort of venomous animal that is ready to bite him. Again, who is Sirius and why does his mother have a picture of him as a kid and an envelope with his name? And why does he look so much like Regulus? He opens the envelope and finds a folded paper inside. A letter.
Reluctantly, he opens the letter, and his mother's handwriting is beautiful, he knows it, she taught him how to write, and he has received compliments on his handwriting many times, all thanks to her. He starts reading the letter, and it says:
My dear Regulus,
I know that you’re smart, and you’re kind, and you forgive, because I taught you all that. Although, I’m not sure you’ll forgive me for all those years I lived restless, and scared, but you need to know that I’m sorry. You’re old and tough enough to be on your own, to take care of your life, as much as I hate that it’s this way.
You probably won’t see me again, Regulus. I can’t help you anymore, so I guess that you will need to do that yourself. Now I just have to tell you that that’s not the first time I do this.
Around ten years before you were born, I had a kid. My first little bundle of joy, the one who filled me with a kind of love that I couldn’t put in words. My first boy, so similar to you, that I could think of both of you and be confused on which is which. But he was like you— he was your brother, no matter what. Those things you do, that kind of violence, you both are the same in that, too. I could help you for longer, but Sirius had it stronger.
Regulus drops the half-read letter on the box along with the envelope and runs his hand through his hair, tugging at it for a second before letting go. His knees buckle and he fights the urge of sitting down. Instead, he fists his mother’s jumper and walks towards the bedroom he woke up in. His first steps in this house were shy and low, scared to wake up whatever monster was hiding, waiting for the right time to jump at Regulus, but now he will wake up whoever he has to. He doesn’t know if this house is abandoned, if his mother rented it, or how long he can stay there, but he also doesn’t care now. If someone tries to break in and take Regulus away from there, let them be. He just needs to lay down for a second, in the bed he woke up in, the one that filled his nose with the smell of his mother.
The bed he woke up in is the same way he left it, the blanket almost falling from the bed, messy bedsheets, one single sheetless pillow on the floor, which he didn’t even notice had fallen. He lays there, similar to the way he woke up, but this time his body doesn’t feel any comfort. He’s alone, he’s stuck. Regulus is trapped, he had always been. He’s a living, walking trap. Not only had he trapped himself, but his mother as well. His body is a trap for his soul, and only his death would be its freedom. Mama is a part of him, a part of his soul, and he trapped her stronger than he had trapped himself. He’s stuck, but so is she. She had to pack her shit and leave so she could untrap herself, because Regulus wouldn’t— couldn’t let go.
He holds the blanket, and recognizes the pattern of flowers on it. He grabs the bedsheets, and recognizes its soft shade of pink. It’s all his mother’s. She left them there for him, so he could fall asleep with the smell of her, and wake up the same way. She wanted this one part of her to be with him. Regulus buries his face on the sheets, sniffing at it, already mourning the fact that one day that smell will fade away. Because time ruins things. And the time Regulus spent with his mother ruined her.
One day, that smell will fade away, and the only thing left of it will be the pattern of narcissus on the blanket, and the shade of pink that is almost white in the sheets. It’ll be only a pattern of narcissus on a fabric that could’ve belonged to anyone, anywhere. One day, no one would remember who his mother was. Tears are wetting his face before he can stop them, and he doesn't try to, because he’s not sure he can possibly do that.
He tries to breathe in, but he only ends up hiccuping, then again, and a sob leaves his throat. Regulus lays back down, hugging the blanket and with the face buried into the jumper, muffling his cries. It feels like his mother is holding him, her warm presence, her specific smell. For a second he closes his eyes and wishes it is all a dream and he is going to wake up at any second now.
-
It never comes. He never wakes up. He should've felt the weight of his mother's hand on the top of his head already, and a whisper saying it was just a dream, love. It never comes. Regulus has already stopped crying, but hasn't moved a muscle from where he lay down at first. He feels his face sticky and he’s sure his eyes are swollen— maybe his whole face. His mouth is dry and his limbs feel numb. He pushes himself up to sit down, pressing his fingertips on his eyes.
The brightness of the sun creeping through the curtains has decreased, but it still bothers his eyes. His feet hold him standing, and he starts moving his legs. The doorknob is still the same uncomfortable, spheric thing that keeps slipping from his hand as he tries to twist the door open. Regulus opens the door more confidently this time. He’s not afraid that someone could be there, he would actually prefer it, that way he wouldn’t be so alone. Kidnapping wouldn’t be so horrible if that meant he wasn’t alone anymore.
Now that he thought about it, who would a kidnapper call to rescue Regulus? His mother is gone and, even if she wasn’t, that isn’t their house, and Regulus doubts she went back to their real home, so the kidnapper wouldn’t really have someone to call. He would be a missing kid forever, that no one would report, because his mother left to God-knows-where and apparently he has a brother that he didn’t know existed and he’s sure the brother doesn’t know that Regulus exists. Probably, his kidnapper would strangle and kill him because he doesn’t have a family to give money in trade for Regulus' rescue. And even if he had a family to pay for it, he doesn’t think his mother would have enough money to pay the kidnapper. Maybe he would end up dead anyways.
His steps are calmer to the room with the box and the letters, no fear of some monster, no weakness on his knees, but still a wonder of what made his mother leave. Okay, she said he — and apparently his brother as well — is violent, but what did he do? He doesn’t remember being violent to anyone, except for that one time when a girl was being a bitch with him when he was a kid and he ended up pulling her hair, but nothing other than that. He leans on the door of the bedroom, now scared, feeling the curse upon that room getting under his skin. Is it because Regulus just turned 18? But that was in August, if it was for his mother to leave him due to his eighteenth birthday she would’ve done it months ago.
He tries to remember the last thing he did before waking up in this place. It was monday, yesterday, and he went to school. Missed his first period and had a physics test right after. He knew all the answers for the test and was the first to hand it, followed by Mulciber, who happened to take him into one of the stalls in the bathroom before anyone would notice. Thinking of Mulciber, a weird feeling fills his chest, something wrong. Well, yes, he knows that the society hated nothing more than homosexuality — maybe only communism — and he happened to be gay in the society that hates it, but he was already over it, he shouldn’t feel this thing in his chest again. Later that day, Mulciber said that his parents would be out for the whole week and invited him and Avery and Severus to his place, and Regulus obviously couldn’t go— But he went.
His eyes widen with the major information he realizes he had forgotten. He went. Now he can remember Mulciber’s exact words. Wait until she goes to sleep and sneak out. The thing is that her was about his mother, who clearly found out. But that has nothing to do with violence, that was Regulus being stubborn and not following the only few rules she had when raising him. The letter — or the little part he had managed to read — said those things you do, that kind of violence. Violence, she wrote, with all the letters.
The sleepover went fine. Regulus remembers being laid down on the floor, with Mulciber beside him, while Avery and Mulciber talked about some book he was really curious about knowing the name. He knows he ignored some words Mulciber was saying due to overhearing the other boys’ conversation, but he heard what he said next, he asked about his father. Mulciber said he had never mentioned his father, only his mother and Regulus answered that he didn’t know much about him. Then he remembers feeling Mulciber getting closer, and the sudden warmth of his hand.
He knows he lifted Mulciber’s hand and kissed it, and he squeezes his eyes shut as he remembers that, but that image is not very clear in his mind, there must be something missing. Dad talk, holding hands, kissing it. The last part is the only one that doesn’t sit right. Regulus searches in his mind and the memory hits him in the stomach. He didn’t kiss Mulciber’s hand, now he wishes he had actually done that, because he actually bit it. Really got his teeth into it and ripped the skin away.
Now he remembers the taste of the blood, of the flesh, that kind of reminded him of pig, which was something they didn’t eat much because it was out of their budget. Mulciber groaned in pain, then he started to scream, terrified. He didn’t know then and doesn’t know now who was pulling him away from Mulciber, but someone was and it only helped him to rip another piece of his hand that went straight to his mouth. Regulus was taken away from Mulciber, and he moved his legs as fast as he could.
He went downstairs and found the same door he had walked in barely an hour before. He looked at the picture frames with Mulciber and his family there again, remembering how he had no idea who his father was, and how the question about him started it all. Regulus stormed out of the house when he heard a commotion upstairs, and ran. He had no idea if the boys would go after him, if they would call the police or whatever, but he knew he needed to go home.
Then, he didn’t care that his mother would find out he sneaked out and broke her rule, he didn’t care for the blood drying on his chin and the taste of the same blood fresh in his mouth, feeling like it always belonged there. Regulus needed his mother. He just ripped part of a boy's hand with his teeth, what else was he supposed to do, give himself to the police? Go back to Mulciber’s place and apologize? Run away and live in the streets? There was nothing else to do. Regulus is not a runner, really. Every time he had to do anything that involved running, he would try to get away from it, no matter if it was for class in high school or something kids wanted to play in pre-school. He really, really hates it. But he ran that night like he had never done before, without even stopping to look back at the house.
Regulus hit his front door, but he didn’t call for his mother, he just hoped that his slamming would be enough. He heard rushed footsteps coming at the front door, and his mother pulled it open. The look in her eyes reminded him of the one she had given him earlier that day, when he had overslept and she hadn’t noticed. He recalled her apologizing to him as he brushed his teeth that morning, with so much foam in his mouth that he couldn’t do anything other than hum and nod. Then, at dawn, she had that same look in her eyes, and then he had so much blood in his mouth that he couldn’t do anything else than look at her.
“No,” she said, merely a whisper. She shaked her head. “Regulus,” she gripped the side of his arms, “grab whatever you need in three minutes.”
He did what she told him to. She handed him a bag that would fit clothes and some books, which is all he needed, really. Regulus stopped for a second in front of the bathroom to look at the mirror. He stared at himself, with the hair a mess, blood not only in his mouth and chin, but also on his shirt and neck. His mother called out for him, telling him to move and finish packing his stuff. His legs hurt from running so much, and his head was pounding, but he went to his room and packed the said clothes and books. Some shirts and trousers, along with he-doesn’t-know-how-much underwear, he just opened the drawer and took as much as could fit in his hand. Three books would be enough? Maybe. How long would they spend away? Regulus was confused with all this fuss, but he dragged himself to the living room, zipping the bag closed as he walked.
His mother found him in the middle of the way, with a wet cloth in her hand, and spread it on his face, cleaning his chin and part of his neck, with one of her hands on the back of his neck, with her fingers touching his neck. She had tears in her eyes, wetting her face so much that it could be wetter than the cloth being spread on his skin. Regulus looked her in the eye, but she seemed to be avoiding his own, making herself busy cleaning the blood on him. He needed a word from her, to make sure she was going to be okay. He can’t remember the time he saw his mother crying, the closest he has seen is when she distances herself from him, locks herself in her bedroom and doesn’t leave, except for eating and using the bathroom. He moves his head, trying to reach for her, but she steady his head with the hand holding him.
“Mama,” he said, his voice weak. “Mama, please.”
“It’s okay,” she whispered, finishing to clean his face. She cupped his cheeks and slightly pressed her thumbs on his eyebrows, smoothing them. He closes his eyes and only hears her voice. “It’s over, baby. You’re alright.”
Regulus opened his eyes as she started to drag him away, on their way to the car. His mother grabbed her bag — which looked way bigger than his — from the floor and threw it over her shoulder. She took the keys of the house and left, going straight to the car, not minding to lock the door on their way out.
“Go on the backseat,” she commanded, which is weird because she once told him she was glad he was already old enough to go on the front seat of the car because it got lonely when he was always on the back. “And change this shirt.”
So he did. He did and the car ride was silent for a long time. They distanced themselves from their town in a conversationless ride, and it took a while to notice his mother was still crying. It was hard to notice, but he did, when she gave a little hiccup, which she seemed to be embarrassed about, because she looked at him through the rear view in the car, and looked away really quick when she noticed he had noticed. When they were far enough, she pulled over and stopped the car, grabbed something from her bag and stepped out of it.
She walked to the backdoor and opened it, facing Regulus. She handed him two little pills and placed them on his hand. He looked up at her, confused, but she didn’t let him start talking.
“I need you to sleep all the way there, okay?” She holds his hand closed, keeping the two pills safe on his palm. “These will help you sleep,” she runs a hand through his hair and kisses his head. “Swallow them and close your eyes, then we’ll be there before you wake up.”
Regulus nodded and brought the two pills to his mouth, which still tasted like blood, and dryswallowed them. His mum returned to the driver’s seat and started the car, and she kept driving. He looked at her one last time before laying on his side, using his bag as a pillow. The car moving on the road made him concerned about rolling over and falling, but he could distract himself with the hem of his clean shirt, and the fact that his mother is a great driver and the road is smooth. Regulus looked out the window, and the moon was following them, with many stars following it as well. He finally closed his eyes, and the next thing he remembers is waking up to the smell of his mother, on an unknown bed and house. And apparently his mother left him and he has a brother who also eats people.
He wonders if his mother did to Sirius the same she did with Regulus. Maybe she left him as well, or maybe she killed him. Could she have done that? Maybe that’s why she left Regulus, because she knew she’d kill him just like she did with his brother. He shakes his head, and stops leaning on the door, because his shoulder and neck hurt from doing that for so long and also because he can’t help but to be curious to know the rest of the letter. He walks towards the shoebox and grabs the letter again, exactly where he dropped it. This time, he sits on the bed. It is well-made, but the sheets and blanket aren’t his mother’s like the bed he woke up in. He searches where he stopped reading, and finds it quite easily, because he stopped right on the first time she mentioned Sirius’ name.
Your father hated him for that. I couldn’t have that feeling. He was always mad at me, saying that I was just as ‘disturbed’ as your brother. I never thought he was disturbed, and later I couldn’t think that of you, either. I didn’t let your father lay a finger on a strand of Sirius’ hair, but once I was out of watch. I don’t know how it started, but I remember your father calling for help. I got there too late and Sirius did it. He was freshly 10, but somehow overpowered his father.
Only later, when we were already far away from there, I noticed marks on his arms. Orion took the opportunity to do what I would never let him do, Sirius only protected himself.
You have a cousin, whom I sweetly like to call Andy, and she’s like you and your brother. My father told me to leave London with his Sirius after we learned that he was like Andy. He told me to send him to her, but I thought I could protect him. But I couldn’t, not after what he did to his— your father. I wasn’t scared of him or what he could do, I was scared of how I would explain the things he did to him. I could never explain anything to him, that would be too much, so I sent him to Andy.
She tried to talk me out of it, not because she didn’t want to take Sirius in, but because she believed in me. I was I am a coward. I knew I couldn’t stay with him, but I did. I thought I'd be of no help. But not her, she would be better than me. So I left him there, in Bristol, with her.
I thought of going back to him so many times, but I just couldn't turn on the car and just go. Then I found out about you. I was already pregnant before your father died, and I saw you as my second chance and, even if you're just like your brother, maybe I could be better with you, maybe you could be what he wasn't.
He drops it again, and distracts himself with the other things in the shoebox. I saw you as my second chance. Maybe I could be better with you, maybe you could be what he wasn't. Regulus felt like an extension of someone he didn’t even know that existed a few moments before now. He feels somehow betrayed. His mother was always the first one in his heart, the one he always cared about and never wanted to hurt. But she had someone else in her heart. He doesn’t feel too bad, though, even if he feels let down by her. She didn’t leave Sirius because she hated him or wasn’t scared of him, she was scared for him. She left Sirius but decided to raise Regulus because she believed she could give something better for him.
Well, first thing: she didn’t kill Sirius, she sent him to Bristol with another secret relative he has. Second thing: The “accident” his mother told him his father died in, was only Sirius defending — a different kind of defending, but who is Regulus to judge anyone — himself from abuse. Third thing: There is money and his birth certificate in the box, under Sirius’ letter.
Regulus doesn’t count the money and starts reading the birth certificate at first. He reads his full name Regulus Arcturus Black, he remembers being a kid and struggling to spell that damn middle name. His date and time of birth, August 25th, 1961, 06:33am. He was glad his birthday was at the middle-ish of the year, that way it felt like his birthday always came faster than his friends’. They didn’t do big celebrations on birthdays, but his mother made sure to try to make that day as special as she could. When it was a weekday, he could skip school, and they would spend the time they had together — and that was before his mother went to work and after she came back — laying on the couch or in bed, until the sun started to set and the house was getting darker and his mother insisted in baking a cake.
They ate it together every time, and she tried making a different flavour every year. This year’s was orange. It was on a Saturday, so they had the whole day off. They went to the grocery store together, picked the oranges, walked back home with the bags with what would be Regulus’ cake within a few hours. This year he baked with her, helping mix the ingredients, and cleaning the mess, and then obviously helping eat the cake.
He was born in Northampton, differently from Sirius, who apparently was born in London, as far as his mother mentioned in the letter. Regulus has never been to London, and his mother never touched the subject of that place. In fact, he doesn’t think he had ever known his mother ever lived there, really. He can’t remember a lot from Northampton, but he remembers a little bit of the pre-school there. He knows he sometimes left sooner than the other kids just because his mother wanted him to be home sooner, and that was the place he pulled that girl’s hair because she was being a total bitch.
The birth certificate gives the name of his both parents, Walburga and Orion. He had never known his father’s name, this is the first time he acknowledges it. And his mother’s name, he obviously knew that already, but reading it feels different. She’s mama, just his mother, not someone with a fancy name like Walburga. Once, in first or second grade, he told one of his teachers that he needed to talk to his mum, but he couldn’t answer when they asked her name. He kept answering that her name was mama but it clearly wasn’t. Good thing they had the files of the students so they just had to look for it. When they were at home, his mother taught him her name again, so he wouldn't forget it.
Reading and saying her name out loud sounds wrong, because she is so simple that her name coming after a huge asteroid doesn't sound real. Sometimes an asteroid is called a minor planet, but he’s sure his mother could be better than the whole solar system. He would give the whole solar system to have her back.
Orion. His mother taught him way more than her name, she taught him all he knows about astronomy. Orion is one of the largest constellations in the night sky, and Orion’s belt naturally leads to the Sirius star, the brightest one in the sky. Ironically, really. Orion wanted to hurt Sirius but, in the end, Orion was the one hurt the most. And in Greek mythology, Orion betrayed Artemis when she made an exception to only having female hunters and allowing him to hunt with her. What the betrayal was depends on the storyteller, but Regulus’ favorite is that he disrespected some aspect of nature, which Artemis loved so much. When she killed him, she grieved so deeply that she immortalized him in his constellation. She grieved him even though he had betrayed her and her hunters, maybe that’s in the same way his mother loved Regulus and Sirius.
-
His stomach growls and his throat is as dry as ever. It’s been hours since the last time he has stepped into that bedroom, and now he finds himself clinging on the blankets and the unknown pillow. He hasn’t dared open the fridge and the cabinets in the kitchen, but maybe it’s time. The sun is almost setting, and the streets are getting quieter. Regulus counted the money his mother left for him, and it’s about 200 pounds. He’s sure it will be enough for a while, he can maybe find a job and keep this house, although he doesn’t know if it’s someone’s or if he can really keep it.
But he has been thinking of something else. Regulus is on his own, motherless and he always has been fatherless. He knows where his mother left his brother, as well as another new relative he discovered. Sirius was 10 when their mother left him, he would be 28 now, maybe 27, depending on which month he was born. Maybe he stayed with his cousin Andy, or maybe he left her. He's almost 30 years old, he probably built a life, found someone that loves him, maybe he has kids, even. Regulus feels too young to be an uncle, imagine if Sirius’ kid is older than him? A total embarrassment.
Regulus shakes his head, leaving the thoughts of his hypothetical nephew or/and niece behind him. His bare feet make all the way to the kitchen. Imagine if mum is a grandmother and doesn’t even know that. He opens the fridge and lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. There is a large bottle with water, and the fridge works, as the humming noise it makes already told him, and the liquid is cold and ready to be drunk. He takes it in his hands and drinks it, noticing that, without the bottle of water, the fridge is completely empty.
He places the bottle back into the fridge and closes it. One thing he hadn’t paid much attention to was the magnet calendar on the fridge, which says: Ipswich city hall. Calendar of 1979. Ipswich, he’s in Ipswich now, that’s like a two hour drive from Norwich. He squeezes his eyes shut and bends down to open the bottom cabinet, but they're empty, only with a pan in it. He stretches his knees and lifts his arm to open the upper cabinet, and he finds a box of cereal, new and unopened. He looks behind it, and it is not expired and seems completely fine, no holes on the box or whatever. The last thing he needs now is food poisoning.
Regulus opens the cereal box as he walks to the couch and turns it around, bending his head behind, getting his “dinner” straight to his mouth. He sits on the couch leaning on the cushions and staring at the wallpaper in front of him. At this moment, in his house, the radio would be on, and him and his mother would be listening to music. Tuesday usually has boring songs, but still is good to fill up the space with sounds. Secretly, he likes it better on Fridays, because they’re always playing any kinds of love songs. He liked watching his mum swing and dance on her own as the songs played and, in those moments, he wondered if she thought about his father. He asked himself if they ever were disgustingly in love or whatever, but Regulus interprets that his mother hated his father for hating Sirius. Even if she wasn’t in love with him, or if she hated him, she never skipped dancing at least a little bit in the living room. She always tried to coax Regulus into dancing with her, but he never did. He did it once on her birthday, which happened to be on a Friday.