Regulus gently fingered the area on his left forearm through his robe. It still burned something fierce but he did his best to pretend to not notice. It had happened a week ago, on his sixteenth birthday. He wanted to show his parents that he wasn't like his traitorous brother. That he had pride in his family and where he came from. That he wouldn't just run off in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye to his little brother… That he would bring honor back the family that his brother had trampled upon when he got himself sorted into Gryffindor with that wretched Potter boy. Who did he think he was anyway? He was just a filthy blood traitor.
He sat in the corner of the party his parents were throwing. It was unofficially for him and what he had done but officially it was simply their traditional end of the summer function. Regulus couldn't help but think about Sirius. It was here that Sirius had gotten into that last fight. Regulus could see it happening as he looked out across the crowd. There was Sirius, probably drunk as usual, storming over to talk to his parents about how unfair it was that he still had to attend these things since he hated them so much. Then the screaming match had started. Then his parents apparated him away. And that was the last time Regulus saw his brother while he was still technically his brother. His parents returned to the function twenty minutes after leaving. By the time they had returned home, Sirius was gone without so much as a note.
Walburga had been indifferent to the loss. She simply went to the family tree and blasted Sirius's name off just as she had Andromeda's. It was almost as if she had expected it to happen from the day he'd been born. He stayed where he was deep in thought until he heard the sound of an all too familiar voice protesting one oaf or another dancing with her. He looked up and almost smiled. The almost was because he knew that she would know about what he'd done. He knew she'd never speak to him again after tonight. Because of that, he couldn't quite bring himself to smile. Still, he got up from where he was to cross the room and rescue her, at least this last time.
The offender this time was Goyle, who was older than Regulus by quite a few years. The older man scared Regulus, to be quite frank, but he tried not to show it as he cut in to help his friend. Goyle stepped aside muttering something about how the Blacks thought they deserved everything but Regulus chose to ignore him and focus on Dorcas. Something told him this would probably be one of the last times he saw her and he needed to focus.
"Meadowes," he said softly, with an incline of his head.
"Black," she spat out as if his very name left a bitter taste in her mouth.
"Shall we then?" Regulus gestured with an exaggerated with a sweeping bow toward where other couples had been dancing. He gave a small smirk in hopes that it would get her to go along with it.
"No."
Regulus stood up right and sighed. "Dorcas," he started, "You knew…"
"No, you knew," she seethed, "You knew what they did and joined them anyway." She turned to get away from him but Regulus caught her arm gently.
"Please," he pleaded quietly, "Let me explain…"
"No, let me," she hissed, furious that he had stopped her, "you're dead to me."
His hand flew off her arm as if he'd been burnt. Regulus knew she'd be angry but he hadn't quite anticipated this level of rage for some reason. All he could do was stand there and watch her as she turned to walk away. After a few moments he found his way back to the corner he had occupied. He sat down and sighed, wincing as his fingers gently traced his left forearm. What had he gotten himself into?