TEN OF WANDS
upright — burden, duty,
stress, burning out, struggles
reversed — failure to delegate, breakdown,
shouldering too much responsibility
REGULUS ARCTURUS BLACK was a coward. He was afraid to be something other than what his parents deemed him to be. He was afraid to fuck up, scared to defy them, terrified to open his eyes and believe in something the people around him deemed vile, disgusting, and shameful. He was afraid of many things (it's almost infinite at this point, really)—
It's just… He was also incredibly adept at lying.
A trait that all Slytherins must be well attuned to, if he may say so himself; and an art that he must master, having been born as a member of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.
.
It all began a year before he was bound to enter Hogwarts, the same year his brother was sorted as Gryffindor, the year that also happened to be the catalyst of it all.
You see, all his life, Regulus Black not only lived under the impression that anything his parents spoke of was absolute, but he had also come to believe that they were always in the right.
It was just the way they were raised.
Suppose that you grew up all your life living in a world shrouded by darkness, it's almost impossible to realize what was wrong because darkness would be a norm. If you had yet to see the light, how would you know what exists on the other side?
Darkness is a constant, something he has long embraced, having spent so much time around it—
But light?
Light is different. Different is bad. Therefore, light is bad.
With a similar notion, Regulus Black had come to believe:
(1) Muggles are scum.
(2) Muggle-borns are the filth that came out of those scum.
(3) Blood traitors are just as bad for siding with such scum.
—But his brother manages to shake his belief by siding with the aforementioned.
And the moment Sirius Black not only ruined the streak of the family's prized Slytherins but also dared to associate himself with such people, Walburga and Orion Black went ballistic.
Regulus Black was rendered helpless as he watched his world shift in its axis.
.
The raven-haired boy loved and looked up to his big brother. Sirius was everything he wasn't— everything he failed to be. His brother was amiable despite his craftiness, hopeful despite their upbringing, courageous despite how much there was to fear and risk.
Sirius stood up for what he believed in even if that meant defying the norm they had grown up with— even if it meant denying their family's existence.
It was almost hard to believe that they were buddies— That they spent their childhood sleeping over in each other's bedrooms, sneaking out of their house to visit the town, and climbing the roof to watch the stars together; the same stars which they were named after.
Sirius taught him about the constellations in the night sky and the magic they were gifted with. Instead of feeling repulsed, Sirius was intrigued by Muggles and Muggle-gizmos. Sirius saw the world differently, something that Regulus had grown to awe and fear.
And then Sirius left for Hogwarts, met James Potter, and started to choose his friends over his duty— over their family. He forgot the brother he left at home, the brother who waited for his letters, the brother that remained stuck within his parents' clutches.
And since then, everything was different.
Sirius is different.
And different is bad.
.
So, when change inevitably leads to chaos in his world, Regulus is forced to do what he has to in order to survive. He shuns his brother, he puts a wall between him and his peers, and he never lets anyone talk down to him.
Best of all, he lives in lies.
It's a skill he mastered to protect himself, something the others had yet to figure out.
He fills his brother's shoes and pretends to be the perfect golden child of the house of Black, his parents' most prized possession.
He lives up to the caricature of the perfect Slytherin; the typical pure-blood supremacists, the elites, the future Death Eaters.
He pretends to be brave, that he looks down on everyone and everything, commanding respect from those around him because he comes from the noble and most ancient house— because that was what was to be expected of him and he has to carry himself with pride.
He acts like he's still deeply intrigued by the thought of his promising future under the rule of he who must not be named; as if the consequences of the Dark Arts don't scare him as much as it fascinates him.
Don't get him wrong, it would be an honor to serve under Lord Voldemort, make his parents proud and achieve what he had dreamed of all his life, but he can't tell for the life of him whether he's doing it for his parents or himself.
He's that good of a liar.
He lies and says he's fine.
He lies and hides the hurt.
He lies to himself just as much as he did to everybody else.
But then he meets her… And she wants to know what it was that laid behind his lies.
For once in his life, he's intrigued by something different.
.
.
.
DECEMBER 1972
REGULUS BLACK MEETS AMARIS LECLAIR in the school's Astronomy Tower one winter night during their first year at Hogwarts. Although, saying that would technically not be true; they bumped into each other way before that, or perhaps 'rammed into each other' would be the better way to put it.
Regardless, it was only when he had a good look at her that their differences had become apparent to him.
The girl was his opposite in almost every sense.
She was a Muggle-born Hufflepuff beloved by all. He was a pure-blood Slytherin who was feared by many.
She had blonde locks akin to silver as they glistened under the moonlight. He had raven hair that was rather similar to the darkness of the night sky.
She was there because she misses her home and the bright comfortable atmosphere that came along with it. He was there because he didn't want to go home, that wretched place shrouded in darkness.
It couldn't be any more obvious that they lived in different worlds.
.
Regulus Black had gone to the Astronomy Tower that night in hopes of watching the stars in peace —the same ones he used to gaze at with his brother— but instead, ended up meeting her.
He still can't tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing.
His first impression of the maiden was akin to seeing a quivering little mouse. She shrinks away, evidently intimidated by his presence. Something about it reminds him of their first encounter which was why the words inevitably slip out his lips—
"You're that Mudblood..."
The way it rolls off his tongue is almost natural. There's no malice, no hostility; it's simply a force of habit from the way he's been brought up.
And he expected her to lash out, to cry, or even to dread him more than she already had, but to his surprise, she keeps it all together and he gets nothing.
She blinks twice and tells him her name.
If anything, it was almost as if she lost the fear she initially held against him and he can't tell if that actually irks him or manages to relieve him because, for a moment, he feels seen.
It's just a second, he assures himself. Maybe he's just delirious from the fact that he was dreading his return to 12 Grimmauld Place.
'She doesn't know a thing. She's clueless— dumb. Just what you'd expect from a filthy little Mudblood.'
'You're fine. She can't call your bluff. Don't give yourself away.'
.
It was the first time someone spoke to him in such a manner, and although that in itself was a rarity, what makes it different from all the other times some stupid Gryffindor had the guts to defy him was the playful insinuation in her tone.
She doesn't feel threatened by him. She's looking down on him like some spoiled brat.
Perhaps those thoughts were what led him to tell her his name in the first place— to remind her of who he was.
In the end, she talks as if it means nothing to her.
The way they exchanged words was almost natural— putting aside the fact that it was banter, that is.
He finds himself feeling at ease when they fall back into silence, awkward tension dispersing into nothing… Just an oddly comfortable silence.
It's different from the turbulent emotions that often consumed him.
There's no urge to push her off the tower or urge to jinx her with a spell for all her snarky comments that manage to annoy him.
It's just… different.
But it's probably just from the comfort of gazing at the starry sky, he'd insist, oblivious to what was to come.
If someone had warned him that it was going to be merely one of many times, then perhaps he would have kept his guard up because change is never good.
Change means 'different.'
And 'different' is a bad thing.
.
.
.
SEPTEMBER 1973
AFTER OBSERVING HER for the rest of the school year, Regulus Black eventually comes to the conclusion that he hates her guts… (Okay, that's a lie —an exaggeration, if you will— but in his defense, Amaris doesn't fail to irk him.)
Throughout their freshman year, they've come to a pattern of coincidentally meeting each other in the Astronomy Tower from time to time. They both find solace under the stars, and it really has nothing to do with her but there was something about her company.
Something about anybody's company really.
Maybe it was the loneliness he was burdened with after all these years. Perhaps it's because for once in his life he found a place where he didn't have to keep up his stupid act. Heck, he's willing to believe that it could be because she was just a pebble on the side of the road to him— not at all a threat and especially not someone worth paying attention to.
A part of him can't exactly deny that he doesn't mind her presence, but that would be going against everything he believes in, won't it?
So as paradoxical as it sounds, let's just say that the girl's strange demeanor makes him feel both oddly unsettled and surprisingly comforted.
She's peculiar that way.
.
He was right about one thing though. Amaris was no longer intimidated by him. She acts as if he isn't a Black, as if he and his kin didn't hate her kind and were instead, old friends.
Obviously, he ruined her attempts each and every time but something about it still rubs him off in the wrong way.
Regulus doesn't know what made her act that way but one thing was for sure; he's been so used to keeping up with his lies that he feels rather vulnerable with the way she was looking directly at him.
It was like she was trying to come up with her own image of him. One that's not based on rumors, disregarding well-kept reputations, and most especially, putting all facades aside.
But his lies are his armor.
So he does the next best thing to defend himself.
He acts out.
Then again, it only seemed to backfire on him because no matter how many times he tries to talk shite, she seemed rather unfazed by his attempts to insult her.
He can't help but wonder if she grew an ironclad defense because now, nothing seems to be able to get her down. Just one of the many things about her that managed to piss him off.
He doesn't know how to deal with people like her, so he attempts to come up with a strategy after much observation.
But observation meant watching her closely. It meant learning about the said person— And thus, Regulus Black fails to take into account how doing so would mean acknowledging her existence in his life.
. . .
When their second year comes along, Regulus had already picked up on a few things. The most important one being:
Amaris Leclair was an insufferable nosy little suck-up.
When you look closely along the sidelines of the busy halls, you can spot the bundle of yellow walking up to others, lending a helping hand, giving directions, and offering to carry other people's things.
As a matter of fact, her usual catchphrases were:
"Are you okay?"
"Do you need a hand?"
"How can I help?"
And from all those, he gathers:
The girl, for the life of her, can't seem to leave people alone.
And he would know, he's rather observant after all. One of the many other skills he gained from trying to analyze people's intentions and keeping his guard up at all times; a talent that was no doubt important to please Orion and Walburga Black.
Regardless, despite her intentions, her altruistic gestures only seem to fuel the growing displeasure he held against the maiden.
.
Once he gets into the habit of it, it's rather easy to spot her. It almost becomes a routine, a second instinct like trying to keep track of the golden snitch during a quidditch match. Ironic, since it would actually be the perfect metaphor to describe her; tiny, golden, annoying as fuck.
Nevertheless, she may be like sunshine during daytime but when they're alone at the tower at night, something about her reminds him of the ethereal moonlight.
She's honest, solemn, calmer… comforting.
She's not all smiles and laughter unlike how she was around her usual group of friends.
And surely, that might not necessarily be a good thing, and he may be partially to blame, but she's different around him.
Regardless, that doesn't mean that her bright demeanor still doesn't fail to aggravate him—
Because it's not fair.
Mudbloods didn't deserve to be happy, so why is it that they of foul blood have it so much easier than he had?
. . .
It was during the first month of their second year that Regulus also comes to the conclusion that he does not only spite the maiden, but he also happened to despise the people close enough for her to deem as friends; an incorrigible group from various houses that only seemed to have grown after the past year.
There was the fellow Mudblood, Mary Macdonald; the infamous pranksters, Gideon and Fabian Prewett; and not to mention the blood traitor in the works, Pandora Lestrange.
They're everything he stood against, all in one bunch; Mudbloods and pure-bloods turned blood traitors. A waste of space.
To make matters worse, despite the way that the Hufflepuff territory was an entire table away from them, it was almost impossible not to hear the noise of the boisterous Gryffindors who never seemed to be able to shut the fuck up.
.
Fabian Prewett made his way to the Hufflepuff table, where Pandora Lestrange was already seated, with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. The two other Gryffindors, Gideon and Mary, trailed from behind him with similar expressions alongside the one Hufflepuff of their group, who begrudgingly followed them with a rather crimson complexion.
"Dora," the redhead began excitedly, "You'll never believe what happened in today's Transfiguration lecture."
Pandora, who was less than pleased to be interrupted while reading, looks up from her book and eyes him warily, "What did you guys do this time?"
"Not us—"
"Amaris was nodding off in class and when Professor McGonagall called her out, she said 'Sorry, Mum'!" Gideon beats his twin brother into speaking as they erupt into another fit of laughter.
"Oh, sod off!" Amaris takes a seat beside her best friend and buries her flushed face into her hands as she groans in embarrassment.
"My, my. Language, Ames. And you call yourself a Hufflepuff?" Fabian only eggs her on.
"It was bad enough for the class to witness the whole thing, did you really have to broadcast it to everyone we pass in the hall?" she grumbled.
The other twin answers as if it were only natural, "Of course."
"I should ban you lot from sitting at this table. Ungrateful jerks," the Hufflepuff mumbles, eyes narrowed at the three.
"Oh please, you're soft. You won't do that," Mary only teases. "You love us too much."
"I love peace and quiet too," Amaris playfully counters back, trying to keep her tough act up, but evidently failing to give off that effect.
Regardless, the Lestrange was a different matter so when she asks, "Pandora, how does the Ravenclaw table sound?"—
Her best friend doesn't waste a second responding, "I thought you'd never ask. I've always wanted to ditch these three gremlins."
But, despite their words, they never actually go through with it.
Their group continues laughing and kidding around. They're all smiles and jokes while a certain Slytherin at the other end of the room has his eyes narrowed at the sight of them.
.
Regulus Black only snaps out of his momentary trance when he hears Evan Rosier —one of the few people he found tolerable in their year (the closest thing he had to a friend, really)— speak.
"Uh, Reg, you alright there, mate?"
Regulus turns to him with his usual glare as he spat, "What are you on about?"
"Well, you're…" the boy trailed on, eyeing his friend's lunch before looking him back in the eye. "Murdering your shepherd's pie."
It's only then that the other boy realizes the way he held onto his knife a tad too tight.
He's never lost his composure like that— much less for it to be due to some Mudblood. They're not supposed to be worth his attention.
Regulus heaves a deep breath and loosens his grip on his utensils, refusing to lose face. He maintains his typical perfect facade with practice, and in less than a second, his usual nonchalant demeanor returns.
Still, Evan —as nosy and incorrigible as ever— refuses to let him get away with it that quickly, "Something wrong?"
"Just saw your face, is all," Regulus shrugs, responding with his usual snark.
The other Slytherin clutches his chest dramatically as he feigns hurt, "You wound me."
"Shut up and stuff that food in your face, Rosier."
.
Regulus continues to finish the rest of his meal, trying to get the girl out of his head. And he's not just saying that because of some stupid romantic cliche— It's really nothing like that load of crap.
He just hates seeing her smile—
Except, that's also a lie.
She pisses him off because he's jealous of what she had; because the grass is always greener on the other side.
He's envious of the way nothing seems to get her down; the way she's so damn happy all the fucking time.
He wants to shine as brightly as she can despite the darkness of the night.
He's jealous of the way he can't seem to have any of that.
.
.
.
DECEMBER 1973
REGULUS BLACK is aggravated by the way that Amaris Leclair keeps trying so hard to talk to him. Their past encounters in the Astronomy Tower had always been simple: a quick glance at each other, a glare from him, a smile from her, a snarky little comment here and there, and then he's back to ignoring her as if her presence doesn't deserve to be acknowledged.
Most times, they don't even manage to catch each other.
It wasn't as if they had an agreed time to meander around the tower. There was a curfew, a couple of Astronomy lectures, and a handful of other reasons that made it impossible to sneak out.
But for the first time in the past year, Amaris Leclair finally cracks and was adamant to get something out of him.
So when she happens to stare a little longer than she should despite the way he clearly proclaimed his insistence not to speak to her, Regulus Black eventually caves in, (or rather, snaps at her).
"What do you want?"
.
The question comes almost naturally to him, because all his life, people stuck by his side because they needed something— because he was an asset.
His constant companions followed because he was a Black. His parents expected nothing less than perfection from him because he was their backup heir. Hell, even Kreacher only takes care of him because he was his master.
But unlike everyone else, he can't seem to read Amaris Leclair's intentions.
It was common sense for Muggle-borns to avoid him and his kind, especially knowing their disposition.
He can't tell whether she was reckless or incredibly stupid.
He decides it must be the latter when she reasons out, "Look, we've been meeting each other here for a year and we have yet to have a decent conversation."
.
Regulus lets out an exasperated sigh as he countered back, "I don't see why I have to keep pleasantries with you, Mudblood."
Regardless of the way he still kept using that notorious slur, the girl remained completely unfazed as she sassed back, "If you hate me so much, then, by all means, leave."
"I was here first," he argues back pathetically.
"We both know that's not always the case."
"I don't have to explain myself to you."
It pisses him off how she could speak her mind around him when just a year ago she quivered at the sight of him.
God, where did those peaceful days go?
.
The girl doesn't beat around the bush, persistence still unwavering as she began to ramble on.
He honestly can't tell why she's trying so hard.
"Look, I get this whole blood discrimination thing…" she trailed on before correcting herself, "Well I can't say I completely do, but Pandora explained it a lot and it's utter tosh, really— But just because you don't understand something doesn't mean it's wrong."
Something about the way she seemed to have crept under his skin and found one of his many doubts only seemed to add to the exasperation he felt around her.
But then, Amaris continues, "I for one don't think you're that awful… I know you've got your picture-perfect noble life but—"
—And that little off-handed comment easily causes him to snap.
.
"You don't know anything about me," Regulus scowls spitefully at the mention of his picture-perfect life. Rage surges through his veins as he vividly recalls everything he's suffered through after all these years—
He remembers how he's grown estranged from his brother, his closest alley. He can still feel each and every sting on his skin. He recalls having no one— of being alone whenever he needed someone the most.
He's reminded of his inability to breathe. It feels like he's drowning. It always feels like he's drowning. And it hurts. It hurts. Ithurtsithurtsithurts—
It's a picture-perfect lie, that's what.
Although the moment he looks back at her after noting her silence, he realizes that he slipped up.
.
Amaris Leclair bites her lip momentarily, unable to find the right words to respond to his sudden outburst. Every time she gets close to coming up with something, she hesitates and stops herself from speaking out of line. She didn't mean to get on his bad side, not at all.
If anything, she just wanted him to see things from a Muggle-born perspective; that they're not too different, that they're all just people going about their lives.
Instead, all she could do was gaze at his once stony grey orbs and discover the same fear she happened to be well attuned to.
She realizes that maybe they weren't so different. And she wants to find a way to express her yearning to understand him— that she just wants to be friends because it seems rather lonely to just sit and stew in silence despite sharing the same solace of the tower.
Because he seemed to be misunderstood. Because he seemed so lonely. Because nobody deserved to be alone—
But beyond everything else, she wants to befriend Regulus Black just because she knew how it felt to be alone herself.
But Regulus is just like her. The boy has walls. He's like an onion you have to peel layer by layer— It'll take time.
That's okay, she tells herself. She's no sucker for hard work.
If that's what it takes then so be it.
.
Despite the girl's resolve, Regulus Black had begun to close in on himself in a fit of momentary panic—
Shite. Shite. Shite. He just gave himself away.
'Put it back in the box. Put it back in the box because no one is supposed to read you.'
She's looking at him as if she intended to pry the truth from him and he just confirmed it all. (She just stumbled upon it by accident.)
She's looking at him as if she had just found his weakness. (She only had a hunch at most.)
She's looking at him as if he was vulnerable. (She would never dare to perceive him as such at all.)
.
The tension only leaves his body when the girl breaks him out of his trance, apologizing for her careless words.
"I'm sorry. You're right. I don't know anything about you," Amaris tells him softly.
Nevertheless, she doesn't fail to add. "—But I could say the same for you."
Her words continued to render him speechless, and by the time he wanted to come up with something, trample on her feelings to protect his own, the girl had already broken into a smile. "So how 'bout we try this again?"
"I'm Amaris Selene Leclair, a Muggle-born Hufflepuff," she introduces herself and continues to add, "Knowing your family's disposition, I'd let you slip and call me a Mudblood once in a while but let's limit that to once a day, yeah?"
Her naiveness doesn't fail to perturb him, but something about the way she was facing him head-on spurs him to do the same to her.
.
If he was being completely honest, she's grown on him more than he expected her to. He refuses to acknowledge it, but within the last few months his eyes follow her almost naturally; he bets on his chances of seeing her in the Astronomy Tower, going about it as if it were a game; and not to mention, he'd rather do with her company than without. It was better than being left brooding a myriad of unpleasant thoughts.
After all, he comes to the tower because he needed a place to breathe.
He's fed up with being stuck where here's at and she happened to be the perfect distraction; something to make fun of, to take his anger on, and to decipher, but beyond that—
She was someone who stayed by his side, all insults and his terrible attitude aside.
And for the same reason, a tiny part of him (incredibly minuscule, he'd insist) stays because she intrigued him.
Because as much as he lied to himself, Regulus Black has a hunch that Amaris Leclair might not entirely be a bad kind of different.
Which was exactly why he finds himself responding to her pathetic do-over introduction.
"Regulus Arcturus Black. Pure-blood. Slytherin," he spoke after a beat, grey eyes meeting her blue ones. "And I must say, you're definitely an odd one."
Amaris thinks it was the first time he looked her in the eye; no glare whatsoever.
And maybe —just maybe— she's already a step closer after all.