Houses: Hufflepuff
Year 2
Wc: 987
The ticking of a clock - sound
Faul - color
Discovery
Alone. The cold sheets, and a bed that goes on for oceans. Staring up at the darkness. Why is it never me. Why am I always alone. The rage imbues my blood, running faul, dark red, through my veins.
Regulus Black attempted to mentally prepare himself for the match against Gryffindor set to begin in a few minutes. The ticking of the clock in the dressing room ratchets up his anxiety with every tick. He had gotten to the pitch early this morning to clear his head. The autumn air was ripe with the smell of fallen leaves, which had begun to smell—to him at least—like freedom. He was elated be out of his house at Grimmauld Place, even if he wasn't very excited to be back at the magical boarding school. Regulus wasn't sure how he was going to face his brother today. They would be on opposite sides of the pitch, but closer than they had all year. Save the few times they passed each other in the hallways on their way to class.
He was on the pitch earlier that morning trying to shake the awful feeling of anxiety that washed through him when the sudden ticking of a clock interrupted his dream. The wind pulled his dark hair free of it's leather thong and it flew behind him like a black flag as he careened over the grounds. The first rays of morning light rose behind the castle and burned the dew from the grass. On the air he could sense he was flying through the cusp of the seasons; the moisture clinging to the world was still dew, though nearly frost. The grass was so heavy with moisture that morning that his feet required a drying charm so they wouldn't freeze while diving at top speeds towards the invisible Golden Snitch he was chasing.
The all encompassing rage that consumed him when he woke up only dissipated a bit by the time he walked off the pitch earlier that morning. He had tried to figure out how he would face Sirius. Now, he was lining up with the rest of his team and heading back out, to look his brother in the eye. He was about to face off against his brother and the Gryffindor friends. His brother's house was always the first match of the year for Slytherin, which was okay by Regulus. It was like ripping off a bandage—grab ahold and pull until it's gone, and don't worry about it again. Just don't look at the faul blood left behind.
"Oi, watch where you're going, mate," Emma Vanity, the seventh year captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team whipped her head around to bark at Regulus. Her wild blonde hair was braided into a warrior plait that ran from her widows peak, down to the middle of her back. She had her face decorated with green and black war paint, and she looked like a true Viking princess.
"I didn't see you there," Regulus replied without thinking.
"If you can't see me standing right in front of you, how are you going to see the Snitch?" her eyes flashed steely blue in the shadow of the tent.
"I'll be fine once I get in the air. I guess I was just thinking about something else!" he retorted, angry that she could throw him.
"Well, get your head in the game, Black. It's the first match of the year, everyone is expecting first blood." She stretched herself up onto her toes, and leaned into him.
"I've got it under control. Why don't you spend more time making sure the Chasers can find the goal hoops. They were the ones shitting the bed in practice this week." Without another though, Regulus pushed around his captain and meant to head out to the pitch. Emma grabbed onto him, and pulled him back into the tent.
"We go put as a team, Black," she hissed into his ear, before yelling for the rest of the team to gather around.
"This is it, Slytherin! The game we have been waiting for. The Lions were the only team to beat us last year! I think it's time they paid for it!" The entire team was standing around the statuesque captain. Her eyes making contact with each player before moving to the next.
"Let's flatten those cowardly lions!" Marcellus yelled, which resulted in a ruckus and jeering from the other inhabitants of the locker room.
"Black, you still gonna pay ten galleons each time I hit your brother with the Bludger?" one of the Beaters snuck up behind Regulus. "Because, last year I was able to buy Firewhiskey until Christmas with all the gold you handed over."
"Oh, yeah. Sirius is not going to be on his broom long, I think!" Reg told the anxious Beater. What he was thinking, however, was more along the lines of making Sirius pay for leaving him in that Merlin forsaken house by himself all summer.
The ticking of the clock changed at that time to a ringing sound alerting the team it was time to go on the field. He walked cautiously behind the rest of his team. Head down and not wanting to draw attention to himself.
"Reg," a voice whispered behind him. "Good luck today."
When he turned around, Regulus didn't see anyone behind him. His brother was smiling with his friends, chasing the curly head of James Potter around the field. What did that mean, why would he do that?
It was then, that Regulus discovered he didn't have to worry about preparing to see his brother. They were brothers and regardless of what was going on with his parents, Sirius would be there.
It was a good discovery to make, before his team beat the Gryffindors 270-90