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TITLE: Twinkle Twinkle
AUTHOR: Relala
BETA: lady of scarlet
FANDOM STATUS: Fanon
His resentment of Beloved Big Brother wasn't born into existence as the consequence of particular childhood events. Regulus didn't dislike Big Brother for eternally stealing the last bit of Droobles Best Blowing Gum which he always kept stashed away under his mattress, or feel revulsion towards him for the copious insults which were always dispensed upon him whenever Potter, Lupin or Pettigrew chose to come over for the holidays. Nor did he loathe Big Brother for forcing him into the part of Mudblood when they played Mudbloods and Purebloods, or hate him because of the fact that whenever they went to family outings he always ditched his younger sibling like he had tonight.
No, Regulus Black's pure abhorrence for his older brother had never been a result of being provoked. His abhorrence was directed at Big Brother for the simplistic fact that Big Brother was Big Brother. It was a very candid, quite unshakeable hatred for an unchangeable fact.
He hated the bark like laugh, the dancing eyes, the handsome face, the talent he had at Transfiguration, the easy way he made friends, the great school marks. Hated the way that adoring faces turned their heads upwards towards him as if he were a blazing star, their tender eyes full of doleful innocence as if they trusted him with their very lives. As if they didn't see the devil that lived within the pale skin. All hail the first born son, the silver beacon of hope within the silky ink sky! He hated Big Brother. Simply hated him.
End of story.
"Looking for Sirius, Cousin?"
Regulus turned in circles, searching for the owner of the smooth voice amid a crowded room of many voices from many so-called "cousins". He wasn't exactly related to them ALL, of course. Cousin was a form of address which all pure-bloods used towards each other quite loosely, an endearment used by children for other members of high families and sometimes a warning used by adults when it's too insulting to actually rebuke someone. It was a loose term said in a group of looser tongues, but Regulus knew that if he didn't react swiftly he might risk offending someone of higher status than he. (Not likely, but still possible.)
Yet before he could even think to begin the search once more, hands were grabbing at his robes, fingers twining into the fabric, pulling him forward as if to get a kiss. Icy eyes - pale and cold - stared him down like an angry werewolf and he was speechless.
"I said, are you looking for Sirius, Cousin?" demands the smooth tone belonging to the pinkish-white lips of Lucius Malfoy, who's pale eyes have darkened in a fury akin to passion and desire as he waited in the semi-silence for an answer. There was more than a hint of violence in the look. The slightest promise that once this was started there would be no going back, no forfeiting.
"I wasn't looking for anyone, Cousin," he whispered breathlessly, "but I believe if I found something I would have looked for had I known I would have found it."
Those ice-coloured eyes look at him and Regulus knows that tonight, at least, he is the brightest star in the all the world to the never-wavering eyes of Lucius Malfoy.
THE END
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