Chapter Text
Like his namesake, Regulus Black was born to be a star. After all, that was all he’d ever known.
He hadn't always wanted to play the piano. He had many different aspirations as a child. An astronaut, a veterinarian, even a writer. Mostly, he aspired to be a son his mother could be proud of and could love.
He knew, of course, that his mother loved him, it just was not in the way one would typically expect. He was doted on as a child and was certainly spoiled, but he was also well acquainted with harsh words and harsher punishments; all in the name of what she called love. Though she’d often confuse love for worth.
She was sickly and frail. Once a strong woman, now decaying before his very eyes. He'd grown up terrified of the woman who should’ve loved him unconditionally, but he longed to meet those conditions. He attended Catholic school without complaint and took up the piano. He participated in competitions and won. He became a prodigy.
Fame he became familiar with. Not at pop star level, but famous enough if one knew about classical competitive pianists of this generation. His family came from wealth. His father was well into the stock market, but that was entirely unnecessary with all of the acclimated generational wealth the Black family already had and the many businesses they'd monopolised.
He had a bright future ahead of him. Beautiful music, and though not so much a loving family in the traditional sense, it was his family nonetheless.
That all came to a head when Walburga Black’s cancer turned terminal.
Bright grey eyes looked down into those of his mother. He remembered, once upon a time, having to look up into those very same eyes. The eyes that used to be kind and loving, which have now grown dull and callous. Despite the countless beatings he’s received from the hands that were meant to cradle him, he still loved them. Remembered how gently they wrapped around him. The lips that tore him to shreds with their words used to press kisses to his forehead and tell him how he was loved in magnitudes beyond the stars.
“Mum…” Regulus whispered, voice breaking weakly. The beeping of the heart monitor echoed through the room. His brother was supposed to be here, but just like he did for Regulus, Sirius abandoned his parents when they needed him as well.
He held his mother’s hand in his own. He could still remember the bruises these hands left, but also the way they’d hold his face as a young boy. How he craved to feel that once more. Just one more time.
He tried his hardest to be what she needed him to be. Once she outgrew her dream, she passed it on to Sirius. And when Sirius didn’t want it, Regulus took it with willing hands. He’d withstand the beatings, just so long as perhaps one day, he’d get to feel that soft touch once more. The pure innocence of lost childhood. The same childhood that his mother and her mother before her lost. Regulus looked down at his mum and could only see that pleading little girl, only wishing to be the star her mum wanted her to be.
Regulus too was once full of life. He was described as being the ‘soft one’. He used to save ladybirds, thinking it was good luck. He would keep them as pets, hiding the small spotted bugs in his room. When he found that he’d killed them, he mourned and cried for a week straight until his mother had scolded him out of it.
There used to be life, but everything that lived would surely die. He’d learned this hard lesson young. It didn’t make loss any easier.
His reverie was interrupted by the high-pitched ringing of a flatline.
“Not her too; please don't take my mum!” He begged whoever would listen.
Walburga Black, one of the only members of the House of Black who wasn’t named after any astral object, died in just the same way. She faded away without a spark. No supernova. Just emptiness, dying with the dream she held close to her heart since her childhood.
Death is an odd thing. She was still there, physically. Regulus could reach out and touch her. He could listen to recordings of her humming lullabies. He could look through old picture books. But he’d never get his mother back. The string of life never really ends; it just gets snipped.
Regulus sat at the grand piano within Black Manor. The sound of the keys echoed through the empty halls. No joy. No laughter. The ghosts of what once was didn’t dare rear its head.
Regulus was a failure in every sense of the word. He was destined for the Royal Academy of Music. Now, at eighteen years old, Regulus hardly left the house. His only companion was his cat, Kreacher. A wretched old cat he’d had since he’d been born. How the black cat was still walking was beyond him.
Kreacher was not its original name. Sirius had named the cat originally, but their mother had intense hatred for any animal and would only refer to him as “the Kreacher”, which ended up being the only name the cat would respond to.
Sirius got to live a normal life. He attended university, had a boyfriend, and lived on his own. Jealous didn’t encompass all he felt about his brother. Jealous, bitter, scornful, and a deep-seated sense of grief for someone still alive.
That was all Regulus did these days. He mourned the loss of his mother. Mourned his brother. Mourned having company. His father was always off helping the family business overseas. Though Regulus mostly assumed it was just an excuse. The truth was most likely that his dad couldn’t bear his failure of a son. Couldn’t bear seeing his mum’s face on his.
Perhaps saying he was completely alone was a lie. He had his group of friends. The ones he’s had since secondary. Barty and Evan since primary, even. Dorcas and Pandora joined the group when they were eleven.
Loneliness doesn't have to be physical. He felt the loneliness in his bones. Barty and Evan were with him nearly every day. Occasionally Dorcas and Pandora would come and visit. When he wasn’t lost in his head, Regulus wouldn’t only lurk in the group chat. Even still, Regulus felt like an outsider looking in. Like an audience member at a cinema. Things happened around him, and life carried on, just not for Regulus.
He looked down at the black and white pure ivory; his slender fingers ran across it with practised ease. Stiffly. Robotically. He pressed down on the keys harder and harder, but no matter how hard he slammed the keys, the sound was always muffled. He played purely by memory. Audibly, all he could hear was the hammer hitting the strings, but no music. The sound muffled by the water that filled his lungs and sucked the life from him. Drowning was all he’s ever known. All he did was drown, for Regulus Black had never learned to swim or to try and fight against the tides for his own life.
The day his mother died was the day he stopped speaking. He had grown to speak now only to Barty and Evan, but to anyone else, he stuck to sign language, having learned it as a child with his older brother. He simply wished to fade away into the background. To wash away with the tides and have the sea swallow him.
He remembered having to sign back and forth with his brother, like a secret language. When they were being punished and were forbidden from speaking and making sounds, they would be found communicating silently with their hands. The most literal way for a child to be seen and not heard.
“Reggie! Where are you, you twat?” Called a familiar voice, Barty Crouch Jr, because if he wasn’t at Evan’s, he was lounging around Grimmauld Place like he owned it. He and Evan could come in through the front door as they pleased. They both had a key, but they better preferred the window.
Barty and Evan were inseparable. The three of them were, but Barty and Evan most of all. Like the story of Naomi and Ruth, they never left the other’s side. Regulus would bet they’ve made a blood pact of some sort, knowing them.
With a groan, he leaned back on the piano bench and stood up. He knocked on the door of the piano room to notify the two of his location within the house.
Barty burst into the music room and almost immediately began touching everything in sight as if it were his first time in the room. Evan swatted Barty’s hands and scolded him as Regulus debated slamming his head with the fallboard. “Must you always put your grimy hands on everything?”
The two almost looked the inverse of each other. Barty with his pale skin and dark hair, Evan with his dark skin and dyed white hair to match the colour of his sister’s. Barty had helped him dye it when Pandora had been bullied as children for her albinism, keeping the white hair to this day.
“Pandora fancies herself a girl with a boyfriend,” Barty grinned. The type of grin not unlike that of the Cheshire Cat.
“Dont’ say it like that! But it's kind of obvious the two are falling apart. Childhood sweethearts that stay together for convenience.” Evan rolled his eyes and took a seat on the abandoned piano bench, lazing onto his palms behind him.
Barty shared a look with Evan that sent a shiver down Regulus’s spine. He knew that look. The look that let him know it may be best to run. “Ever been to a uni party, Reg?” The question that Regulus knew would doom him for eternity.
A party. Barty and Evan had brought him to a fucking party. Now, it wasn’t horribly cramped, not like the parties one would see in films, but it certainly wasn’t Regulus’ usual scene.
Not even five minutes into the party, and he’d already lost Barty and Evan. He was offered a drink but declined it. The thought of alcohol was a horrible one. The mere idea of even the chance of losing the smallest bit of control of his body sent a shiver down his spine.
He stood against the wall, trying his best to avoid people and blend into the wallpaper as best as he could. A warm presence appeared at his side.
A tall man, around his age. A black mess of hair atop his head with warm-looking brown eyes that looked as if they could melt ice with one look, hidden behind round golden frames. A human hearth. His eyes were watching two people dancing. A pretty-looking girl with fiery red hair. The life of the party that burnt just as bright as him. Though, oddly enough, his eyes were rather distant as he stared at the girl.
Pandora gave the girl a spin. Oh. These two must be the couple Barty and Evan had mentioned earlier. Pandora smiled brightly, certainly looking happier around her. Regulus knew this would all end horribly. The redhead looked comfortable with Pandora, the two seeming closer and more familiar than Regulus originally believed they’d be.
”You’re Regulus Black,” The warm eyes had turned to look down at him now. Bright, warmer than Regulus had ever seen. “I’d seen you perform when I was younger. You’re brilliant!”
‘Thank you,’ He signed back.
A flash of recognition, an array of emotions before gone in a flash. ‘Have you stopped playing because you’ve gone deaf? Like Beethoven?’ He asked, signing back rather bluntly. Regulus would’ve been offended if he weren’t so caught off guard by someone else knowing BSL so fluently.
‘No. I just… prefer this method of speaking,’ keeping his words brief. He felt his hands tremble subtly as he moved them rapidly with each word.
“James Potter”, He introduced himself as. A rather normal name. Regulus wouldn’t have expected it. It did have a familiar ring to it, but he couldn’t quite place it.
‘Your girlfriend is being stolen.’ He signed to James. The whole situation was rather strange to him, not that he was necessarily all that invested.
James gave a bittersweet smile. “We’re broken up. Since this morning.”
‘Oh…’
“Oh no, it's nothing too sad. It’s been a long time coming. I mean, sure, I’m sad, but… But Lily deserves to be happy. It’s okay.”
James appeared to be resigned to this fact, like it was inevitable. Regulus just thought this man odd. He’d never seen true love, especially growing up with his parents, but he’d seen couples date during school. He'd never seen anyone just give up. He must’ve sensed Regulus’ unease.
“We’ve been together since year eight. We just… fell out of love. It happens. I still love her, and she me, just… not the way we once did.” He smiled, just a little brighter that time. The bright smile that could rival the sun. The smile that could ruin Regulus' life… or change it forever.
“Hey, do you still play?” James’ voice interrupted his thoughts.
Regulus nearly flinched. He lifted his hands to speak before thinking through his thoughts, pursing his lips. He let out a deep breath before moving his hands. ‘Not really.’
“Oh, really?” James breathed in the breath that Regulus had let out. He drummed his fingers against his thighs. “Not anymore?”
Regulus furrowed his brows, trying to figure out what he was supposed to say; what he wanted to say. ‘No. Not since… not for a while. Years, really.’
“You were brilliant. The reason I got into violin, actually. We could practise together if you want.”
Regulus chewed at the inside of his cheek as he thought of this proposal. A true nightmare it would be. He could already hear the ghost of his mother in his ear. Even in death, her cruel words continued on without a physical body. In truth, death was purely physical.
‘I'll think about it,’ he settled with. Not a promise. How could one perform without even hearing what they were playing, after all?
“Lovely! Here, let me have your number.” James grabbed for his phone hidden away in his back pocket. A clear case with photos and movie tickets and the like shoved between the two walls. A little scrapbook of a life worth living. Someone who didn't waste away like a rotting corpse. How could one be so alive while Regulus felt like he himself was already dead?
Once they'd swapped digits, with some reluctance, James smiled as if Regulus had done him a great service. A strange look of bewilderment must've flashed over Regulus’ face because James let out a little chuckle. Airy and light. A laugh that had been well used and practised.
Pandora once told Regulus that love brings colour to the world. Regulus, however, had always seen the world in shades of grey. Pandora had Lily, but who did Regulus have? He felt he had the slightest hint of colour when he could hide behind the shield of his older brother, not have to face the tortures of the world. When his mother would read him to sleep or when his father would pretend they were a big happy normal family. But now the world was far darker than it had ever been before. This gave way for Regulus to more easily hide amongst the shadows, perhaps to hide away forever.
He felt like the April showers outside of his window, and he twirled a pen between his fingers at the piano. Music flowed from his fingers, a song of longing for life. A hand reaching out from beneath the waves, calling for help. Icarus, who’d been thrown into the sea, longed for the sun to save him.
A sonata is typically played solo; however, it may be played with an accompaniment. Not Moonlight Sonata, typically. The piece is dark and dreary. A song of isolation and loss. To add another instrument would take away the moonlight to allow the sun to shine, even if just a little. A small ray of hope, bringing an end to an eternal night.