Chapter Text
Regulus
Regulus was seven years old when he first met him. Him with a big “H”, cause that’s how little Regulus found James Potter. Even though he was young, he does remember little memories here and there.
Mom was angry that day, middle june, 1968. The younger boy remembered hearing The Beatles in the streets as they were heading to a wizard alley : “The Thestrals”; The pavements were black, dark and cold. Although it was warm outside this place, the park near 12 Square Grimmaurd. It was a huge apartment that moved by itself if you said a password.
It was his home.
Regulus felt his mother's hard, dry hand in his, almost crushing his tiny, childlike fingers. He looked everywhere, pointing at passers-by or shops, asking questions. His mother never answered him, just mumbled back: ‘Don't ask questions’.
But Regulus went on.
Then his brother would answer, a protective, knowing glint in his silver irises.
Sirius was Regulus' older brother. He was skinny, like his little brother, like his mother, like his father, like the whole family. Yet instead of sharing his parents' cold, drawn features, Sirius always had a sneer that seemed to tickle his lips. He was always sunny with his little brother, telling him stories in the evenings.
He swore it was true, and Regulus pretended to believe him, even though he knew it wasn't. He reassured him after nightmares, he encouraged him, he told him that he would always protect him. Until the end. And God, Regulus believed it with all the soul of an innocent child. This feeling of being protected was warm, pleasant, tickled the heart, made it possible to breathe more lightly, more freely.
So yes, Sirius must have been the reason for Regulus' every smile.
Every laugh.
Every tear.
Regulus didn't really know if it was just a child's whim, he didn't know if he'd cry the same way if he really wanted a new miniature broom, or an action figure.
But he shed tears for Sirius. Because a voice in his childish noggin was telling him that it wasn't fair, that Sirius's cries of pain weren't fair, that their mother Wallburga's screams and harsh words weren't fair, that his silver scars and new crimson cuts weren't normal.
Regulus was 7 years old when he went to see Mrs Wander for the first time. She was a rather stout woman, with brown skin and an understanding gaze, the kind that already knew what was on your mind. She always wore a tight bun, smiled from time to time, and was generally nice, according to Sirius. Mrs Wander gave lessons in magic, spells, herbology and potions. Which was the Muggle equivalent of a schoolmistress.
Regulus was swelling with pride as he entered the room with its high ceiling filled with playful posters, its smooth desks and its green chalkboard where a piece of chalk was already writing by itself. Young Regulus' eyes fell on a black cat, Quill, as his white collar said.
The creature's eyes were emerald green, gleaming and piercing.
Regulus was 7 when he saw that he was not the only one in Sirius' life.
A little boy with round glasses, a tanned complexion, a mischievous smile and brown eyes. An indescribable feeling shook Regulus' heart as he gripped his mother's hand tightly, glaring at the boy. Was he stealing his big brother? Was Sirius going to let him down now? He didn't know. In the meantime, Sirius sat up straight, hiding his smile before turning to his mother.
Their mother was pretty scary. Quite, but not too much. She had dark or green clothes in her wardrobe and only wore long elegant dresses.
Her black hair was in an impeccable bun, all the time, except for the great occasions, like Christmas or the “Bal des Blacks”- as she liked to say- which took place on the first of January at night. Pinched lips, burgundy lipstick, pale skin and grey eyes, like Sirius. Sometimes she was nice to him. Sometimes she would give him a hug. Sometimes she would smile at Regulus and stroke his cheek.
But never with Sirius, more rarely though.
So here she was, tapping her son’s shoulders and talking to Mrs Wander about how they were smart.
“Here, come” Sirius said as he grabbed his brother’s hand and led him to the brown-haired boy smiling in the back of the class.
Regulus followed.
As he always did.
The thing about James Potter, it’s that he’s loud.
Like.
Really loud.
He’s annoying was the first thought of Regulus when James started introducing himself, he looked too bright, too sunny, too…confident ? He was like Sirius with a different face and body and it was so weird to see the two of them laughing and answering the questions that Regulus stayed quiet the whole eight hours.
Not that he didn’t like to study.
He liked to think, he always had. Break your brain, put it back in pieces, put it together differently to have another vision. Yes, Regulus loved that class.
So every day, except Sunday, the Black brothers went to the Thestrals alley and learned new things, hoping to make their families proud once in Hogwarts.
The thing that bothered Regulus was the mocking looks and laughter of other students. Sometimes he raised his hand ten times in twenty minutes, and always had the right answer. Sirius smiled at him when he did so and James looked at him, impressed. What a pleasure for the young Black, who wanted so much to make his family name shine.
8 years old, Regulus goes alone with Sirius. They enter the class as usual, joining James Potter, who had grown up.
Oh.
When he sat down, he immediately felt a cold liquid stick to the bench. What was it? He didn’t know. But class had already begun, and he couldn’t stand up and report it. Otherwise Mrs Wander would strike him with her wand. He then shut up, and waited for their lunch break.
When he wanted to get up.
He couldn’t make it.
Laughter was coming from all over the class as the young boy tried to get off without tearing his expensive pants. Tears began to burn in his eyes.
“Hey, hey Reggie, it’s alright” Sirius was repeating again and again as he watched the green, sticky liquid with frowning eyebrows.
He turned to James who was telling the other students to shut their mouths. “James, call the professor”.
That’s what he did.
Soon the tears began to burn again the retina of the young Black and a ball formed in his oesophagus while he tried to say that it was good, that he was fine. When he obviously wasn’t.
“It’s fine, I’m fine… it’s just a stupid joke, you know them..” he muttered, glaring.
“Oh, little Black can’t get up ?” A boy with blond long hair asked, his other friends laughing.
“Well, if you can raise your hand, you can stand up. C’mon ! You can do it !”
He stared at them, incredulous, before realising that it was not only this pathetic gardon band who laughed, but the whole class. Sirius clenched his jaw and stood before his brother.
“Watch your mouth, Barbie doll.” he snapped.
The blond boy laughed. “Of course, he needs a bodyguard. Though he could’ve choose better”
Sirius clenched his jaw. "I'm quite surprised you can use your brain to make a joke. It's not that good, but that's okay. It's a start."
The older Black showed the greenish liquid that was giving Regulus a hard time. He had finally sat down, his cheeks red, his eyes glaring at the ground.
The face of the blond boy shrank, while his friends laughed, the class with them. But what was Mrs Wander doing?! He advanced, challenged Sirius with his gaze, passing him by at least one head. He was one year older than Sirius, but this one did not retreat. On the contrary, he approached before ordering, his voice dark.
“You better clean it, or I swear-”
“What’re you gonna do, Black ? Call your mom ?” He snickered.
Regulus almost yelled. Or was it a yap ? He didn’t know.
Sirius swung his fist on the blond’s jaw, and stumbled onto another desk.
"Are you mad ?!"
Second blow on the cheek. Sirius began to straddle his enemy, continuing to strike him without relaches. Mrs Wander came running and screaming.
“ENOUGH ! ENOUGH!”
James followed behind, smiling a little, looking at the blond with the bloody lip. Sirius was not stopping anything, so Mrs Wander took out her wand and tied him all at once.
"That’s enough! You had lost your head!! 30 blows each !"
“I swear if you touch him again I’ll punch you so hard you’re gonna vomit, wanker !”
Chaos. That's what you could call the sequel.
Mrs Wander had removed the sticky mixture from Regulus's seat, and he was so embarrassed that his throat was in knots. He thanked her, shaking his head in shame. The woman then took Sirius and the blond boy by the ear, so hard that it had turned scarlet. Regulus desperately wanted to help him, it was his fault after all. He should have told him not to worry, that it didn't matter. Because of him, Sirius was getting 30 strokes in front of the whole class, who were whispering, shocked, appalled, some laughing.
“I'll go and shut those-” James stirred in his seat next to Regulus, his face hard, which was rare.
“Stop it” The young Black cut in, his voice a little gravelly but he ignored it. "Stop it, I don't need any help."
“Maybe you don't, but Sirius does.”
Oh. Yes. Of course he did.
He'd been wrong about James's intentions, of course it was Sirius, it was always Sirius. Regulus pursed his lips before looking away from the scene. Two wooden sticks were beating the two punished boys on the calves. Sirius held his head high, wincing, breathing hard as the blond boy groaned in pain.
"It's my fault," Regulus whispered to himself.
He didn't know if James had heard him, but James said nothing as he continued to glare at the few students who were laughing at Sirius.
Regulus had to help Sirius, take the beating instead. It was his fault, he deserved it. Just as he was about to get up, James beat him to it and stood next to his friend.
"What are you doing, Mr. Potter..."
Mrs Wander fell silent, and watched as James took Sirius' place.
He turned to Regulus, whose heart was heavy with guilt. He swore that Sirius was saying ‘Look what you've done, you can't even come and take what you deserve’ through his eyes.
Regulus looked away and scratched himself nervously, the blond boy's groans of pain in the background.
Regulus was always scratching himself when Wallburga was arguing with Sirius, in the middle of the living room, kneeling on the green carpet with the roses and their brambles. Sirius never cried. Never in front of Regulus, anyway. But that was probably because their mothers would never have allowed it. The young Black was at the bottom of the stairs, knees pressed to his chest, his eyes burning but forcing himself not to cry. It wasn't right, it was forbidden. It was weak. Regulus was no longer a baby.
"Do you realise what you've done, Sirius? For heaven's sake! Mrs Wander told me you'd been fighting, that's savage behaviour! We are not savages, the Blacks are not savages. Your friend Potter may be, but we're not! I don't want you to sit next to him any more, I don't want you to talk to him! Do you understand when I talk to you? Look at me!"
Regulus stiffened as his mother went into higher octaves, he had a small view of the living room. His mother was standing in front of Sirius, who was still on his knees, his head bowed, his half-length hair hiding his face a little. He did not raise his head.
"Look at me,"Walburga ordered, her voice calm, moderate.
He said nothing.
"Those idiots were laughing at Regulus" Sirius muttered.
"Your brother is old enough to defend himself, without resorting to bestial behaviour. He's not like you, Sirius. Remember that."
Scratch, scratch, scratch. Regulus was rocking back and forth now. And buried his head in his knees when Sirius snapped insolently.
"I'm doing the job you're not doing, he needs to be respected and it's not by showing off our wealth that..."
Scratch. He heard his mother grab Sirius's hair and he dropped to his knees before whispering.
"You have no right to lecture me. I'm the one who decides, I'm the one who protects you before you can protect yourself. And this is not the right choice. You listen, you don't do it again and you keep quiet, it's not any more complicated."
Sirius fell silent and Regulus raised his head.
“And I'm going to cut your hair, it's too long.”
Wallburga came out of the living room and passed near Regulus before stopping to look at him.
"Mon coeur."
She stroked his cheek, her gaze hard.
"Don't get like that, eh?"
Regulus could still feel the lump in his throat that prevented him from speaking. He just nodded. A proud smile drew his mother’s lips.
"Good son."