Call Me Reggie
Call me Reggie, all my friends do.
Why would you say that? You don't have any.
I do!
Admit it, Regulus, you don't have any friends. In seven years, you haven't managed to move past polite chitchat.
I can do more than chitchat. I spoke with Bella for twenty-three minutes yesterday.
Bella is your cousin. Your cousin.
So? At least I wasn't speaking with you.
You are now. You just can't seem to keep away, can you, Reggie.
I wish you wouldn't do that.
I'm not going to stop. What are you doing, anyway?
Homework. You should know, you're doing it too.
I wouldn't be spending my Saturday nights doing homework.
And yet, here you are.
I'm only keeping you company… hey! That's not homework!
Oh, so good of you to notice.
I didn't know you drew, Reggie.
After all this time, you still hadn't picked up on that? Show's how observant you are.
Gee thanks, Reggie, are you always such a sweetheart? What's it of, anyway?
You.
You should be embarrassed saying stuff like that to a guy.
You're the one thinking something weird, pervert.
Who's the pervert? You are, Reggie. I know you are. I think the reason you're always hanging around Bella is 'cos secretly you think she's fit.
You were the one watching her yesterday, not me.
I wasn't watching her.
You were! I saw!
It doesn't matter, anyway! Forget about it and go back to your scribbles.
Scribbles?
Yes, the scribblings of a madman.
Merlin, talking to you makes me wonder if I am.
You love me, anyway.
I do.
Don't say it like that, it's disgusting.
I mean it.
I wish you didn't.
You don't love me?
I… this isn't the time, Reggie.
You do.
Don't sound so smug, loverboy.
Now that is disgusting.
You liked it.
Not as much as you did.
Maybe. I will neither confirm nor deny.
You're too slippery. Nobody knows what you're thinking.
I was sorted into Slytherin, wasn't I? And besides, you always know what I'm thinking.
That's different. You know it's different.
I know. I wish you wouldn't remind me, though.
You never want to be reminded. I want to talk about this!
Leave it, Reggie. There's no point. Look, maybe I should go.
You can't.
I know. I know, ok? Can't we just… I don't know. I don't want to think about this right now.
I… fine. We need to talk about us, though.
We? Us? Shit – shit, Reggie, you promised you wouldn't!
How can I not? You just don't want to acknowledge what's happening!
Because it's insane. You're mad, Reggie. You should be locked up. This is sick, sick and wrong.
You think I'm sick?
Yes! I mean, listen, you're just having some kind of crisis, some identity issues. This will disappear one day.
It won't. I won't let it.
That's why you're sick, Reggie.
Why are you saying this? Do you want us to stop?
You can't keep thinking of us, Reggie. Get it, already!
Nobody else would know!
Somebody would find ou–
"Regulus? You in there?"
"In here, Cissy."
"Aunt Walpurga is looking for you… oh! Can I see?"
Don't let her see.
"I… sure. It's not very good."
"No, it's brilliant. It's really good, Regulus. Can I have it?"
"Huh? Why would you want it?"
"It's so lifelike! Why wouldn't I want my very own cousin Regulus taped to my wall?"
"I don't – what?"
"It's a self-portrait, isn't it? I mean, it's so obviously you. Unless you were trying to draw Sirius, because you completely got it wrong if you were."
"I – no, no, it's me."
"I can see that, silly! Anyway, your mother is looking for you."
Look what you've done.
I… I wish that kind of thing wouldn't happen.
I told you, there's something wrong with you.
Something wrong with us.
No, something wrong with you. I'm not the one talking to myself.
You're a liar, Regulus.
Not as much of a one as you are, Reggie.
Hmm... well, that's done. I'm not frankly sure where I came up with this... I wanted to write a story about all the Black children. Maybe I'll do a collection of short stories. They probably won't all be the DID ramblings of a nutjob, though. And perhaps they will be a tad less flow-of-concious. Unless that works. Thoughts, anyone?