Chapter Text
When Regulus was little, he wanted many things. At first, he’d wanted a real-life version of the scraggly drawn unidragon (unicorn-dragon) he had created. When asked, his father had bent to his level and hissed in his ear that creatures like those don’t exist, and Regulus did not ask for another. Next, Regulus wanted a toy broom, much like the ones he’s seen his cousins riding on. He begged his mother for weeks, but was denied on the fact that “Black’s do not beg, it is beneath them.” He never pleaded again. After that, Regulus had wanted to go to Hogwarts with his older brother. Only, when he finally got his way, it didn’t turn out quite like he had hoped.
As he grew older, Regulus learned to lower his expectations. It did him little to hope for things he would never get, and it was far less painful to beat his aspirations into submission than to once again be let down by his own foolhardy desires. If he simply kept himself from ever hoping, he could spare himself the coming disappointment. Because Regulus knew better. He knew it was unwise to dream and to hope. Most times, he had the sense to stop himself before it got out of hand. But Regulus was a fool, because never before had he wanted something more desperately, though his chances of getting it were less than all the others.
Because what Regulus wanted- more than a toy, more than an impossible creature, more than anything he’d ever wanted before- was for Sirius to stay.
The day Sirius left, would haunt Regulus forever. He awoke in the middle of the night to loud, muffled screaming coming from downstairs. He swiftly got up from his bed and creaked his door open, trying to listen in. It was Sirius and Walburga. Regulus pushed his door open and quietly sat down at the top of the stairs, hoping to hear more clearly. He sat still, holding his breath, trying his best not to be heard or seen.
Sirius and his mother always fought. This wasn’t anything new exactly. However, it was different this time. Regulus could tell it was different. Sirius was on his last warning, but yet he still decided to push it. He always had to have it his way, what he didn’t know was that this time it would lead to much worse consequences.
All of a sudden, the yelling stopped and Sirius let out a loud scream.
He was hurt.
For a second Regulus considered to go down there and help. But he was frozen. He was scared. He didn’t know what to do.
But before he could put his thoughts in order, the yelling started again. Regulus was finally able to hear them more.
“Then leave this house!” Walburga shouted
“Fine! That’s all you ever wanted wasn’t it? I’m so glad you can finally have your picture perfect family without me.” Sirius replied, his voice breaking.
“ Get out, Sirius. And don’t come back.”
And Sirius did just that. The door slammed shut, startling Regulus.
That was it. Regulus sat still, not moving even the slightest inch. He could feel tears steaming down his face. He quickly dried them away with his sleeve.
Blacks don’t cry.
Blacks don’t cry.
But he couldn’t hold it back. His hands started to shake and more and more tears started to fall down his face. Regulus got up from the floor, and went back to his room. He closed the door behind him but was unable to walk any further. He leaned his back against the closed door, trying to process this.
He should have done something.
He should have helped.
He could have helped.
Sirius leaving home tore Regulus apart. For the first time, Regulus was truly on his own, and it broke him. He subconsciously did little things, like writing him letters that he never sent, stealing some of his old clothes, lying in his bed to feel closer to him, looking out for his star in the sky, rereading all the old letters Sirius sent him, reading Sirius’ favourite books and standing up to Walburga and Orion more. But even though he did all these things, he never fully forgave Sirius for leaving him in that house, that horrible place.
The night Sirius left, Regulus couldn’t get himself back to sleep. He laid in his bed, staring at the dark ceiling, with a cold and empty feeling in his heart.
When kreacher, his house elf, had called him for breakfast the next morning, both his parents were already at the table. He looked between them hoping they would say something. Explain what had happened.
They didn’t. They sat in silence, pretending as if everything was okay. He wanted to say something. He wanted to scream. He wanted to leave.
He didn’t. He sat down in his place, not saying a word.
But Merlin, the silence was more than Regulus could take. He sat there, blankly staring at his plate. Thousands of thoughts rushed through his head all at once.
Maybe he could write to Sirius? He was probably staying with the Potter's anyway. But what would he say? Regulus had so many thoughts but couldn't put them in order, he couldn't place what he was feeling.
"You're not going to eat?" His mother asked.
Regulus looked up and cleared his throat, "I'm not hungry."
"No one appreciates anything around here." Walburga muttered.
Regulus let out a deep breath, which felt as if he was holding it in since last night. He brushed a hand through his hair, before deciding to get up from the table.
"You haven't been excused yet." Walburga said, harshly.
"I'm not hungry." Regulus said, again.
"Just let him go," His father spoke up, rolling his eyes.
At eleven o'clock, an owl came screeching out of the black night, towards his bedroom window, and it was only for Regulus' quick thinking and fast wand work that stopped it from shattering the glass. It was a huge, stately owl- Sirius' owl. It wailed, agitated and clearly exhausted from it's journey. Regulus wrested the note from it's leg and tore it open. His eyes softened and his heart started beating twice as fast.
I'm okay.
-Sirius
oh.
That's it? No explanation, no nothing? Regulus knew he should be glad that his brother was okay. And he was, of course he was, but he could have taken the time to write something more.
Suddenly he was filled with hatred. Hatred for his family, this place, his brother. But no. He couldn't hate his brother, not after everything that they have been through. But in that moment Regulus couldn't help but feel a sort of hostility to Sirius. Two fucking words? Is that the best he could do?
For most people, receiving a letter would bring comfort, happiness, relief. However, things just seemed to get worse for Regulus after that.
He slipped, and he slipped, and Regulus went tumbling into an abyss of negativity that he did not know how to pull himself out of. He felt hopeless, and he was unhappy, and he truly felt that getting better was an impossible task; one that he did not think was worth completing. After all, every time he had tried to forget about it, something would happen and he would plummet once again. What was stopping that from happening to him this time? What was stopping Regulus Black from forgetting and then suddenly getting so, so much worse?
Perhaps when he got back to school, he could talk to Sirius, and it would help Regulus, right?
The least he could do was hope.
But, right now, hope seemed like a very rare emotion that Regulus could not find it in himself to feel.
After Sirius had left, Regulus had stayed awake in his bedroom for the whole night, staring at the door and willing for it to be opened. He was praying that the bedroom door would swing open and Sirius would saunter inside, giving his little brother a long and genuine embrace.
But Sirius wasn't coming back. And maybe it was for the best.
He was finally okay.