Chapter Text
Regulus has become quite tired the last two days of watching his school hallways brighten with fireworks in places fireworks should never be, as well as ducking to avoid the fanged frisbees which have been flying left and right throughout the Transfiguration Courtyard, but he would much rather the risk of losing a limb or two than staying at the House of Black on New Year’s Eve ever again in his life.
Not many people stayed at Hogwarts over their winter break. Most of the students returned to their families to celebrate the holidays before returning for nearly all of their time at school until the upcoming summer. Regulus however hadn’t gone home for a holiday, or any break he could manage, in the last year since his brother had moved out. He had come up with whatever excuse would preoccupy his parents; like that he had to study for exams or his professors had offered him extra learning opportunities if he had stayed. It worked nearly all of the time, and if it hadn’t his parents usually didn’t bother to respond or even notice his absence until it was halfway through the break anyways. He knows he can’t stay away for too much longer if he wants to keep his trick working(or wants to keep his head attached to his body), but just this once he is determined in taking as much time to himself as he can. Which meant staying isolated in his room, taking his daily half hour walk, and then returning to his isolation.
He had anticipated it being just him and a few scattered students from different houses, no one notable. Students who were focused on reading, studying, keeping themselves as academically busy as possible- a competition of who could suggest the most convincingly that maybe they were here for a very important reason rather than not wanting to return to their pathetic families. Maybe he was projecting a bit with that last assumption, but if Regulus is anything he is excoriating.
Throughout the winter break he didn’t have any any obligations, so he spent his time in his dormitory alone, doing some sort of mundane task to keep himself distracted from how unbearably boring Hogwarts is when it is quiet. He can’t say he particularly likes the business when school was in session either, but life is much simpler when you have anything at all to complain about rather than only being able to complain about yourself, and your own lack of livelihood.
He was, despite this prattle of complaints, excited to be spending his time tranquilly for the next two weeks until for whatever despicable reason his brother and the crowd of braindead men who trail along behind him have decided to stay at Hogwarts this holiday as well. He doesn’t know why Sirius would choose staying rather than joining the infamous Potter family residence for what Regulus is sure is a picture perfect, to die for holiday, but he doesn’t care enough to ask. They had now, it being their last year at Hogwarts and all, decided it was their life’s purpose to make Regulus’ holiday (and life) as much of a living hell as possible.
He hadn’t spoken to his brother for months after his move since he had felt rather abandoned, but they were civil with one another at least now after the long year had passed. Just because the two of them are now tolerating one another however(Which is completely one sided, Regulus can admit. Now that Regulus is tolerating Sirius again) does not mean that Sirius and his possie are not still the most obnoxious and infuriating group Regulus has ever met. They’re quite the stereotypical clique of Gryffindor jocks, if that puts any image into your mind. The “Marauders” as they call themselves grew out of their bullying phase, which maybe gains them some sort of kudos, but their loud banter and even louder personalities backtrack lots of that progress.
Regulus ducked as the fanged frisbee flew over his head for the second time, and he quickly shot his head in his brother’s direction. “Can’t you have any manners? Don’t you know people walk here?”
It felt sometimes even if Sirius was the older sibling that Regulus had to parent him somewhat or knock some reason into his brain.
“Sorry, mate. I didn’t see ya.” Sirius stumbles around as he smiles to himself, and Peter is behind him punching at his shoulder as he giggles. Remus is not too far behind, sat on a small bench next to James, who is leaning back on his hands and spreading his legs out so wide you’d think there was no seat in the world that could properly fit him. Regulus kept his stoic eyebrow furrow still as he stayed in place.
“You said hello to me as I walked out.” He said flatly, and Peter laughs again.
“Oh, that’s right.”
“You could’ve taken my eye out. Or a stranger’s eye, at that. This is a regular space for student activity.” He watches Remus grin a little as Sirius just gapes at him, mouth opening and shutting like a fish.
“You really do speak like you’re forty, Reggie.” Regulus looks up in frustration as he hears a couple other muffled laughs, and as he looks back down locks eyes with James Potter, not his favorite of the “Marauders” to put it lightly. There is a dopey smile on James’ face(as there always is), and Regulus’ eyes flash up to take note that James’ hair is messed. James can’t be too bothered to make himself look presentable he supposed, which is typical. He realizes as he has been thinking he has held eye contact with James far too long, and as Potter’s smile turns smug Regulus turns on his foot quickly to walk away.
“You always know how to liven up the party, Reggie!” James shouts, and Regulus curls his face in as he hears Sirius laugh. He keeps a steady pace toward his dormitory, trying to ignore the mocking and breathing out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. James like the Elvis Presley of Hogwarts. Quite popular, loud and bright personality like Sirius. A natural flirt, a spectacular Quidditch player, and incapable of taking anything seriously. He is the perfect match for his brother, but as the sole reason his brother even left his home in the first place Regulus holds a few special places for James in his mind, and one of them must be saved for the “worst person that has ever existed” spot.
There are thin candles that float themselves around the arched ceilings he walks through towards his room. A couple enchanted paintings on the walls mock the speedy stride in Regulus’ step, commenting on his lack of politeness to even manage a hello or how are you, but he keeps his steps quick and directed toward the Slytherin common room until he hears an eerie hushed murmur from one painting to another. Regulus listens in while continuing to walk, slowing his pace to catch it.
“And I heard him mutter something about the Draught of Living Death-” The listening painting gasps and Regulus butts himself entirely into the conversation.
“Who did?” Regulus almost feels the need to explain why he is so curious even if he isn’t so sure himself until the older woman in the painting snuffs up her nose and turns away, billowing sleeves crossing across her chest. There is the faint singing which most likely comes from the woman that fronts the Gryffindor common room door, and the man in the painting next to her turns away and hums awkwardly as her energy toward Regulus becomes more passive.
“Wouldn’t you like to know, Regulus Black.” She seethes his name as if it hurts to speak it out loud.
“I would, that’s why I asked.”
She throws a dramatic hand over her eyes and turns her back to Regulus. “You have hurt my feelings, Mr. Black.” She hums woefully to herself, and sways left and right. The paintings that coat the Hogwarts walls had quite the skill of attention seeking. Not always getting the attention necessarily, but dramatically seeking it. The woman in the painting sighed loudly and took a seat on a small log stool, beginning to brush her hair with her fingers. “Plus… I don’t even remember the boy’s face let alone his name; he was in quite a hurry.” She mutters something about Regulus not deserving the information anyways after treating her so poorly. “He was exactly like you… like you all are. No interest in talking to little old me. Not a single, ‘How are you today?’. No, all he wanted to do was murmur freakishly to himself and run off to the library.”
Regulus didn’t have the patience in him to pull this entire story out of her, not that it really concerned him anyways, and he decided to continue on even more frustrated than he had arrived after wishing her a good night. He had far more important things to dwell on, such as his frustration with James Potter, or how sorry he feels for himself. Riveting stuff. Regulus cannot help the fact however that the image of someone brisking their way through the halls mysteriously in such an empty campus muttering things about dangerous potions is now burned into his mind, and does seem a little freaky. Regulus walks a little faster than he had been before through the halls. The building is completely silent except for the sounds of his walking, and how empty the campus is starts to hit him all at once. He seems to feel smaller and smaller with each new thought.
The door to the Slytherin common room, adorned with the painting of a serpent, opens up slowly as he approaches and he walks in with a feeling of relief. Pandora Lestrange and Dorcas Meadowes were sat in the common area giggling and chattering over a small book in the center of the common room, and it takes Regulus a second to process he’s not alone as he catches his breath from walking back so quickly. He notices their socks are matching greens, and that both girls were wearing seasonally appropriate Slytherin sweaters. They both look up from their book to see Regulus who has only interacted with them a handful of times and awkwardly stop their laughing. He forces a small, lipped smile which Pandora returns politely as he darts past them. Leaving his room for a seemingly pointless half hour a day to see sunlight and outside life was already humiliating enough, but having not only two but FOUR people other than him who have stayed behind in Slytherin house for the holidays that have to watch him pathetically force himself out of his room and then return looking like he had seen a ghost makes it far worse.
There was a sudden eerie quietness that took over him as he enters his room and unravels his scarf, setting it on his desk and looking towards his curtain which was still closed. Regulus feels himself ease away from his anxiety as he sits on his bed, pulling back the curtain to remind himself that there is infact no one on campus except him, Sirius and his brother’s gang of followers, and a couple other random people he’s never spoken to in his life. No one would take a dangerous interest in Hogwarts during the holidays anyways, when everyone happened to be gone. The painting most likely misheard or dramatized the conversation to make it seem more intimidating than it had actually been, as they tend to do with the drama that circulates during the academic year. Regulus lights an oil lamp in his room with his wand, shutting off his main lights and sits to watch the snow from his bed as he wonders to himself who possibly would wish for the entertainment of torturing others over their winter break.
The wind and snow that hit against Regulus’ window whispered back that he didn’t want to know.