The past two years had taught Regulus that the only way to hold everything together in his life was to stand as still as possible. A rustle, a shift—the slightest of movements would tear the Black family apart again on the edges his brother had left when he ran away. Life was simple for a Black that could follow directions. Voices stayed at soft tones. Hands remained at their sides. Every edict obeyed was an offering at an altar that promised family. It was a payment for the penance his brother had left in his wake.
When he found himself too close to crossing the line, too close to smashing all the heirlooms and abandoning his parents to die alone in Grimmauld Place—he imagined himself screaming inside an empty room, where the sounds would bounce off the walls and wash all over him. He imagined it being almost as satisfying as the real thing.
So Regulus withdrew into the role of the dutiful son, leaving a small corner for himself with books stacked so high up no one could see over them. He could hide in plain sight that way. Only an outline remained—one of a pureblood, Slytherin seeker, heir of the noble and most ancient House of Black. People easily filled in the rest of the sketch themselves. He could walk around all day like that and no one noticed.
That is…until the new Hogwarts student fixed her large brown eyes at the top of his head.
Regulus had felt a tingle and looked up. As fast as their gaze met, she broke it. Something pulled in his stomach.
This girl had barely spoken to anyone since she arrived at Hogwarts. Yet, even in her quest to remain anonymous—the whole of Hogwarts could see that no one politely avoided more people than she did—she couldn't help but attract notice. She was similar to his older brother in that aspect. Both of them seemed to take up more space than a person was normally allocated in the world—certainly more than he had been.
She was hunched over a large tome—close enough to inhale the ink—reading with a kind of urgency, like if she waited too long the words would disappear from the page. She had her brown curls wound up in a bun at the top of her head, so voluminous and inscrutable that he could've sworn he spotted a spare quill in there.
She was small in stature and yet Regulus still somehow found her overwhelming.
Then she looked up.
"Can I help you?" Her voice was brusque.
Could you? He thought before he could stop himself. I feel like I'm barreling towards something I can't stop.
But it was an absurd thing to think and an even more absurd thing to say aloud to a stranger, so he stayed silent and she returned back to her reading.
"Heads up, Black. Practice has been pushed to Friday night. Be there at 7." Louis Gainsborough, stocky seventh year and Slytherin Quidditch team captain, called out to him as he entered the Great Hall.
Regulus gave him a short nod in reply and settled himself at the table.
A fellow sixth year on the quidditch team, Augustus Corbet, nodded at him from across the table. "Alright, Black. Where's your head at this year? N.E.W.T.S. or are you finally going to get a girlfriend?"
"No!" Gainsborough interjected, shooting a stern look at the sixth year. "No distractions. We are not risking the house cup this year."
Regulus exchanged a look with Corbet. It took little no effort to rile up their quidditch captain.
"Quidditch should be your number one priority. I'm not looking for a repeat of the Lewis-Sham incident."
Regulus shot his captain an amused look. "It's not his fault she broke up with him right before we got on the pitch."
"Bad timing. Also, he graduated!" Corbet chimed in.
Gainsborough glared at the both of them. "Black, Corbet—this is my last year to beat those smug bastards." He nodded over to the Gryffindor table. Regulus didn't follow his gaze but knew he was looking at Sirius and his friends. "You both better stay focused. Can't have my seeker and second-best chaser getting distracted."
"Sham's gone now. Doesn't that make me top chaser?"
Gainsborough smirked. "We'll see after tryouts."
"Ouch." Regulus chuckled while Corbet shook his head at their team captain.
"Cap, this is why people don't invite you to parties."
"All of our parties are in our common room. Everyone is invited."
"Pfft—I'm not talking about the parties we have in the common room. I'm talking about the ones we have in the forest."
"Black, do you have parties in the Forbidden Forest?"
"Only when you're already busy, Gainsborough."
"And I'm okay with that." Gainsborough grinned and got up from the table. "See you later at practice. Don't be late."
"Aye, aye, captain."
"Black, keep Corbet in check, will you?"
"I resent that statement." The sixth year called after Gainsborough's retreating back. "Regulus is the real mastermind!"
Regulus raised his eyebrows at the lanky chaser before opening the book he had brought with him to breakfast.
"It's the truth." Corbet turned his attention back to his breakfast, shoveling eggs into his mouth. "Ignore me all you want, Black, but I have a working theory that you're behind every diabolically cool thing that has been attributed to Slytherin in recent history. The seventh years always take credit but personally I think they're unimaginative. Plus, they're too bad at acting to properly fake that dumb look in their eyes whenever something gets discovered."
Regulus made a non-committal noise in reply, turning a page in his book.
The sixth year continued. "Like, there was that crate of firewhiskey that appeared out of nowhere before our last party. The kind you can only get in France."
"Someone probably bribed a house elf."
"And then there were those eleven carriages that they found on the roof last year decked out in green. You know, the ones that spelled out 'GO SLYTHERIN' letter by letter?"
"Courtesy of our loyal quidditch fans, I'm sure."
"What about the big green boulder that showed up and blocked the entrance to the Gryffindor common room for five hours?"
"Could've been anyone."
"Yes, but it also said 'Sirius Black is a giant wanker' on it."
"Many people would agree with that statement."
"I'm just saying, no one has been able to legitimately claim credit and you fit the profile."
"Which is?"
"Slytherin with ample resources who's skilled at spellwork and prefers to work alone. Someone who's subtle, not showy. "
Regulus took a sip of pumpkin juice. "Corbet, what ever will you do with your theory?"
"Nothing. Just letting you know that you've got a staunch admirer. Should you wish to reveal your methods."
Regulus flipped another page in his book. His small acts of rebellion start out as way to feel like he had control over his own life. They were also utterly inconsequential. None of them actually had an impact over any of the things in his life. He wasn't taking any sort of stand—not like his brother had.
"Ah, it was worth a try." Corbet shifted his attention across the Great Hall. "Looks like the new girl has gotten more admirers. The Gryffindors won't leave her alone."
Regulus followed his gaze to take in the scene at the Ravenclaw table. The new student had started breakfast with a large book as her only companion but now found herself surrounded by a mixture of the bold and the nosey. Her hair was down today. Large brown curls cloaked her shoulders as she nodded along to the conversation happening around her.
"I heard she might be a long lost Dumbledore."
Regulus turned to look back at his book. "Her last name is Granger."
"Like Dagworth-Granger? Urgh, the last thing we need is another stuffy pureblood." Corbet grinned at Regulus. "No offense, of course."
"Don't the Corbets come from a long line of French witches and wizards?"
Corbet smirked and replied in a quieter tone. "With a few Muggles here and there, yes."
"Ah, like every other pureblood family."
"Black, our generation may be the ones to break the denial train."
"Not while our parents are still alive. Or most of our cousins, for that matter."
"That's for sure." Corbet hummed in agreement and turned his focus back to the croissant on his plate. Regulus flipped another page.
It was the dirty little secret of pureblood society—because how long could families actually stay 'pure' without any real consequences? Purebloods had only lasted this long because they had the help of Muggle blood.
It starts as a slow process—unlearning the things parents teach you—but then the floodgates open.
When Regulus was younger he believed every word his parents told him. Idolized them and anyone else they held in high esteem. Now he knew better.
But unlike his older brother, he hadn't taken the next step. He hadn't publicly denounced his parents and their views. He hadn't yet been able to carve himself out of the family as an independent person.
Sirius had been brave where he was not. Where he was scared of losing his family, his brother had already found a new one.
He had talked to her. He had offered to let her borrow his book. His Muggle book. A copy that he specifically avoided parading around the Slytherin common room to save from more than a few raised eyebrows.
Regulus didn't know why he did any of that.
Books went sprawling and then there she was on the ground with him.
The only thing he knew about the new student was that she liked to read. He was half-sure she had been in the library every day since term started, at least every time he had been there.
From a distance, he had seen how she took up space—almost demanded it—from the world around her.
Some people seemed to apologize for their own presence. Others tried to avoid the simplest of acknowledgements. This girl did neither. She just planted her feet firmly in place—head high and eyes bright, taking in every last bit of detail around her.
Up close, he had felt a pull and in that moment he could've sworn she had her own orbit.
Regulus didn't consider himself particularly friendly or open. He didn't make a habit of speaking with students he didn't know. Least of all students from other houses.
Yet there he had been—asking for book recommendations and offering his own up to borrow.
Merlin's fucking pants. This was the absolute last thing he needed.