There was nothing but darkness. All around, all consuming. Inky black blurring his senses. Time did not seem to pass.
Then, in the middle of nothing, there shone a light, glowing among the darkness. Time started. His senses tingling, awareness stirring. It was the only light in his bleak, black realm.
It was her.
His eyes immersed themselves fully in the sight of her. Enthralled. She was alluring in the way of celestial beauty of a starry night sky, the faint freckles on her full rosy cheeks seemingly iridescent. On her head, golden tendrils of hair danced in a graceful chaos, twirling, cascading onto her back. Teasing him to touch it.
But he dwelled longer on her eyes. Her blue, blue eyes, reflecting the clear sunny sky he adored. Eyes with a frame of long inviting lashes that blinked at him slowly.
She smiled to him that smile - that kind, soft, otherworldly smile that was worth a thousand suns. "Do you like it?"
Entranced, he answered involuntarily, "Like what, angel?"
Long dainty fingers brushed the velvety fabric that hugged her figure, "Your star on me, of course. It's here, heart of the lion."
His heart jumped at the sudden realization. She was wearing that dress. Dark blue sky dress filled with shining stars and constellations lines. His hand reached for his star (his star. She was wearing his star -) and his breath was lost for a second, before his fingers finally grazed the area that was right below her chest, the area where the Leo constellation sat. The fabric was textured yet soft. He rubbed his thumb on his star, on her, tasting the reality of it.
There were mere inches of distance between them and Regulus breathed her in -
And he promptly frowned. "You don't smell as nice as you usually do." In fact, he didn't find her sweet scent at all.
"That's because you're not close enough."
His eyes snapped to hers. Her blue eyes were glinting at him, and the way she smiled had changed. Now it was teasing, daring him. A smile not unlike a tiger's.
His heartbeat stuttered.
There was a quick surge of fear in him, fear that she would pounce on his heart.
He leaned forward anyway.
"Closer," she whispered, her breath fanning his cheeks. Bewitched, he could only obey her, his body got caught in her warmth, eyes intensely locked on her soft, pink -
He woke up in a jolt.
.
Regulus dragged himself to the great hall with an indifferent look on his face. By his side was a grumbling Rabastan with his sullen face, woken up too early by the sound of a shower.
Regulus refused to take blame for that.
The great hall was relatively quiet and he enjoyed his breakfast peacefully, mind focused on his plate of sausages. And bacon. And eggs. Mushrooms. Baked beans. Taking one each for every bite. The eggs were a bit burnt.
At some point during his meal, a huge owl dropped a letter that almost fell onto his plate if it wasn't for his reflex. The letter, he soon realized, bore the mark of his family's insignia on its wax. Regulus hesitated. It was a foreboding sign, as it was not yet the time for Mother's scheduled letter.
But delaying it would only add to his agony.
Inhaling a long breath, his fingers finally broke the seal.
.
Regulus Arcturus Black,
You are to cease all interaction with your pitifully foolish brother at once. There shall be no mingling with him whatsoever, and you are strictly forbidden from approaching him, speaking of him, or acknowledging him as part of the noble House of Black.
There will be consequences shall you fail to heed my words.
That wretched bloodtraitor has shamelessly abandoned the tenets of our family's faith. For far too long he has condemned us in favor of that disgraceful, blood traitor of a family, and I ought to have taken decisive action much sooner. That boy is utterly worthless. A disgrace to our noble lineage. He is but a stain upon the purity of our esteemed family, and now, as if he lives solely to astound me with his foolishness, he began to associate himself with a lowly mudblood whore, sullying the pristine name of the Blacks!
Regulus, I have scarcely rested since I first received this damning news. In the most brazen manner, that ungrateful boy had declared to every single person that he prefers the company of that mudblood wretch over ours.
Regulus, my only heir, I implore you to remain steadfast in your loyalty to our family values. Do not let the misguided choices of your brother sway your conviction in upholding the honor of the House of Black. You have always been a beacon of hope, embodying the essence of our noble lineage. I trust you to continue to embrace the values that have been instilled in you from birth. Remember that we, the Blacks, stand as a bastion of tradition and purity, and it falls upon you to uphold our name with unwavering pride.
You are not to be another disappointment, Regulus. Am I understood?
Lady of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Black,
Walburga Irma Black.
.
Regulus, reasonably, took a moment to get his mind in order after he read the letter.
Condemning Sirius was, unfortunately, a regular occurance in mother's letter. But somehow, there was something different about this letter. Most of her demands were nothing new, except for the part to not acknowledge Sirius as a Black... Why? Shouldn't he defend Sirius when others slighted him, and therefore their family? The Blacks were supposed to stand united, weren't they?
There was also that threat. The threat if he didn't heed to her words. She never explicitly stressed that there would be consequences, and in this letter she did.
Lastly, there was the particular mention of a 'mudblood whore.'
He had no idea what Mother was talking about.
His eyes searched for his brother's loud presence at the red adorned table. Sirius was talking to his three idiotic bootlickers, behaving as oblivious as ever to the dread Regulus was definitely not feeling for him. He could see Potter animating wildly with his hand in response, Lupin and Pettigoo whispering and snickering with each other. There seemed to be no significant difference that would incite this new rage in mother, no mudblood whore in sight clinging on his side.
He breathed slowly and strengthened his occlumency.
The situation needed a cool head.
Accordingly, he turned to his right. "Rabastan. Did you happen to hear a rumor concerning my brother?"
Rabastan paused in his meal and gave him a deadpan. "Could you be more precise? Your brother eats and breathes in scandals."
Fair. "Perhaps one that would enrage my mother enough to the point of disowning him?"
"At this point, which wouldn't?"
A coughing sound interrupted their pointless talk. Two heads slowly turned to the source. It was Cassandra Parkinson, with this pitying look on her face which she audaciously directed at Regulus, "He was seen kissing Sarah Cuthbert a couple of days ago."
Regulus blinked. Someone actually wanted to kiss him?
He opened his mouth in skepticism, thought better, and closed it again.
"Who?" He asked instead.
"A mudblood Ravenclaw," Hornby eagerly answered him. "And they were not even subtle! At least seven people saw them kissing, at the library of all places! Who would have thought a Ravenclaw would defile a library like that? But I suppose it's that dirty blood of hers..."
"I can't believe someone from his station would go down that far," said Parkinson whilst shaking her head.
There was that pitying tone again, mixed with clear disgust and disapproval.
The girl needed to mind her own business.
His eyes scanned the letter again with this newfound context. The term 'whore' finally made sense now. His brother just had to excel in making disastrous decisions, didn't he? Were being sorted to Gryffindor and colluding with bloodtraitors not enough sensation for him?
There were many lines that someone of their pedigree shouldn't ever cross. Lines so many, so stringent, it left them with barely any room for breathing. But the best of them would move with grace under the restrictions of those lines, sometimes even dancing along those lines with elegance but never blatantly crossing it.
Colluding with mudbloods was the clearest line. The defining line. The thick red line surrounded by ominous warning signs. And over that line awaited assured ruination, so really, crossing it would be an idiotic thing to do.
Naturally, his brother did just that.
Regulus folded his mother's letter in mechanical perfection, before slipping it back into the envelope. It was clear now, the gravity of this situation. Previously, mother's threat of disownment was nothing but empty words of righteous rage. But this time. If Sirius was really pursuing a mudblood -
His family could really lose their heir.
He exhaled, his breath coming out as shaky as his mind at the moment. This was Mother's nightmare coming true. And just a few years after they lost Meda-
His mind quickly ran some possible options to rectify this situation. The whole family would gather on new year, the first Black gathering in five years. Perhaps Sirius could make an appearance and diffuse any rumor about him going bloodtraitor - because there will be rumors. His family could never keep something as scandalous as this news down.
"Black. Lestrange," someone called. "Last meeting of this month on Wednesday."
- but Father wouldn't disown Sirius. He would never allow it, unless he was truly forced. Uncle Alphard would support him, and so would Aunt Lucretia and Aunt Cassie if they bothered to come. Mother, against her better judgment, would vote for Sirius to be disowned in her blind rage. Bellatrix and Uncle Cygnus would follow her eagerly. Narcissa wouldn't speak at all, and Great Aunt Dorea and Aunt Callidora would probably miss the meeting, as per usual. Grandfather Pollux would support any side against Grandfather Arcturus out of spite -
"We'll be there," Rabastan replied in his friend's stead.
- so should he talk to Mother? Convince her that there was still hope for Sirius to see some sense? Of course all of this would be pointless if Grandfather Arcturus spoke in favor of disowning Sirius, because then Father would definitely obey him -
Someone tapped his shoulder.
Rabastan gave him an inquiring look, eyes briefly glancing at the envelope in his clutch. "Was it your mother?"
Breathe, Regulus.
"Yes," he replied blankly, eyes inspecting the Slytherin table. Parkinson and her stooges were still pretending they weren't paying close attention to him. "Fascinating how the Hogwarts rumor mill works, isn't it? For a rumor to reach my mother's ears first before it got to us..."
He saw Rabastan stiffened before turning back to a thoughtful look. "Fascinating indeed."
Did he realize it too?
Regulus took a sip of water as he watched the table again. He wondered who it could be. It could be anyone from his house, he realized. His eyes swept the table from the older students to his underclassmen -
And accidently landed on the standing figure of Macnair, next to a pair of fair headed siblings.
Regulus froze at the sight. It was clear that the older boy was not talking to Barty. Madeline Crouch was smiling to Macnair that small polite smile he knew so very well, with a blotch of red tint on her cheeks. Her hand reached for the side of her ear - tucking a straying strand of curl behind. The loose curl fell off again in just seconds.
The scene after that went by slowly in his rapidly darkening eyes. Macnair lifted his own hand, and Regulus's mind was shouting don't you dare, don't you dare- over and over as an agonizing dread dropped onto his stomach. But it was done. It was over in under four torturous seconds. Macnair had tucked her curl behind her ear.
He fucking touched her hair and tucked it for her.
The blood in his vein felt ice cold all of the sudden. But his chest was scorching, the boiling heat creeping to his face, blurring his sight.
How dare he. He had no right. His filthy hand had no right.
"Regulus."
He met Rab's disapproving look with a glower. Rabastan sighed in return. "They're just talking, no need to murder Macnair with your glare."
If only his glare could do as much, he wishfully thought.
Rab rolled his eyes. "Are you done avoiding her now? Just talk to her if you don't want her to talk to anyone else."
Regulus stiffened at his words, his mind halted before finally clearing. "I don't know what you mean."
Contrary to Rabastan's belief, Regulus was not trying to avoid Madeline Crouch. But as his fixation on her was getting out of hand, he was using occlumency to isolate any thought, any stimulus related to her and kept them locked deep inside of his mind so it wouldn't interfere with his daily life. It was a much needed measure. He couldn't afford to lose control.
(But Macnair. Macnair was getting closer -)
That didn't mean he would let this slight pass.
Glancing at Macnair - he's still talking to her. He's still talking to her- he tried to think of a solution for this particular pest problem. It was foolish of Macnair to approach what was obviously his. First at Slughorn's dinner and now this happened.
A retribution was long overdue.
.
While Regulus attended his classes with full mental capacity focused on the lessons, the revelation from that morning pushed a part of him to be on his vigilance at all times. He observed his classmates, taking mental notes on what he knew about them and their possible connection with his mother. Cassandra Parkinson, for example, was part of the sacred 28, and had been introduced to Mother since they were but toddlers. Mother didn't like the Parkinsons - they didn't have enough power in their blood, nor did they have enough influence beside their Wizengamot seat. They lived fully depending on their family vault - which was said to be quickly dwindling due to poor management and Lady Parkinson's extravagant lifestyle abroad. No business afloat - so perhaps they were trying to get into mother's good grace? Would Mother even bother with them?
It was late after dinner when Regulus decided to separate himself from his classmates, taking a leisurely walk to clear his mind and put a distance between him and his classmates. He needed to get away from them, you see. His cautiousness of them, he realized, was bordering anxiety. He didn't need that. What he needed was more meditation to put on more occlumency walls.
His walk brought him to the north courtyard. The moonlight did not touch the ground tonight, but Regulus was always comfortable to be immersed in the darkness. He focused on his breathing, focused on the silent wind brushing up his cheeks and hair, on the crisp smell of the approaching winter.
Until something moved at the corner of his eyes.
Regulus started to walk a bit faster. He would head to the astronomy tower, he decided. It should be considered that what he saw could be another student who, similar to him, was only seeking for fresh air to clear their mind in the courtyard. He crossed the yard, eyes occasionally glancing at the shadow behind him, all while maintaining his breath even. He arrived at the astronomy tower stairs and started to climb, hopeful that the shadow would stay on the ground. The stars looked even clearer there at the tower and Regulus found his own star easily just as he landed on the highest level of the tower. He started to walk towards the fence.
- and then the shadow landed there, right behind him.
The fingers of his right hand lightly touched the wand in his pocket. It seemed that shadow was indeed following him. Regulus might not be the best duellist in his new club, but he had a couple cards up his sleeves.
No hesitation.
His body spun in an instant to face his stalker, a curse already waiting at the tip of his tongue with his want pointing directly to their face -
"Whoa, Reg! It's me!"
Regulus froze, staring at a bewildered Sirius Black whose face was finally alight under the stars' glow. Sirius's eyes widened at the sight of his wand, pupils slightly crossed because of how close Regulus's wand was to his face.
And what a stupid face it was.
He scowled at his brother. "Have you been following me?"
Sirius pushed Regulus's wand hand down, looking unimpressed at the accusation. "You're the one who's suddenly racing through the courtyard."
"Yes, because someone was following me," he stressed.
Sirius rolled his eyes.
"Well maybe someone wants to talk to you. I heard you don't do that a lot these days." He paused, taking the sight of a stiff Regulus once more. "What got you on your nerves?"
Unbelievable. "Have we not established that already? You did, sirius. You were following me."
"You're not usually so tense, though."
He let out a bitter laugh. "Do you truly know me at all?"
Regulus was always tense. He had to live up to perfection because Sirius was too busy fooling around. He supposed he just hid it better than he thought if Sirius didn't realize that.
Sirius only frowned at his words. "Jeez, are you in your brooding phase?"
He glared. "What do you want?"
"Oh, nothing," Sirius shrugged easily. "Just have been hearing things about how you're giving some people the Orion Black treatment."
He gave him a pointed look, disapproval hanging in the air.
Jokes on him, Regulus happened to think father was a perfectly fine role model.
"What a coincidence," he drawled instead. "I heard some interesting things about you, too."
"Hn? Which things?" Sirius asked, genuine curiosity in his eyes. "I lead quite an interesting life."
He had the gall to look proud at that. Regulus shot him another glare. "The one that involves a mudblood."
There was a pause as his glare clashed with a knowing stupid gaze.
"Ah," his brother said eventually. A smug smirk settled on his face. "That one."
"Mother knows," Regulus added before Sirius could look even more proud.
It worked. His brother had stiffened, the previous smugness in the air around him dwindled to nothing. On his face, the smirk was quickly replaced by a sneer, "Of course you would tattle me to your mother."
He narrowed his eyes at those words. "First, She's our mother."
"Yeah, don't remind me," Sirius cut in with a scowl.
"Second," Regulus continued in reproach, "I did not, as you put it, tattle you to mother. I didn't even know about your illicit exploit. I knew only because mother wrote it to me."
The fact that Sirius thought Regulus would report something like this to Mother was insulting. Regulus knew tact. He knew better than to poke on Mother's wrath at Sirius's general existence. Salazar, he spent his whole summer trying to make them get along better. What more did Sirius want from him?
"Damn those busybodies," Sirius grumbled, not even bothering with an apology after that accusation.
Pulling up his occlumency, Regulus decided he couldn't care less.
Onto the more pressing matter. "A mudblood, Sirius?"
"Don't use that slur," Sirius scolded him quickly.
"Have you considered the position you put our family in?" Regulus asked evenly. "We're already under scrutiny after Meda ran off with one of them."
Sirius scowled. "It shouldn't have mattered, though."
But it did. It always mattered. Just because Sirius thought it shouldn't matter now, didn't mean everything would change and cater to his view. "If you keep on testing our family's patience like this, Sirius, our family will feel urged to put you in your proper place."
"They can try," Sirius claimed proudly, taking his warning as a dare.
A silent pause followed his claim.
Honestly, Regulus should have expected Sirius to react to his warning in such a way - Sirius had always been stupidly Gryffindor.
There was a tiny part of Regulus that felt jealous of how Sirius was taking his warning in stride. Regulus could never - but he supposed he was raised to be afraid of putting his foot an inch out of the line, to know his place as the second son, the perfect spare. Sirius, meanwhile, had always been raised to be proud, been taught that as the heir of the most ancient house and most noble house of Black, the wizarding Britain was practically his since he was born.
Regulus quickly found out he didn't have it in him to be frustrated by Sirius.
With reason, he moved on to the next dire thing. "When did you kiss that Mudblood?"
"Her name is Cumbert."
Regulus frowned. He was 80 percent sure that Cumbert wasn't the name Hornby mentioned. "I don't particularly care, Sirius. When did that kiss happen?"
Sirius sighed, flopping to the floor and started to watch the starry night sky. It was better than watching his little brother uttering the slur over and over again.
"I think it was Friday? So three days ago."
Regulus quickly did the count. For Mother to receive a letter from Hogwarts and send one right after in just three days.. his suspicion was confirmed.
"Mother has eyes and ears here in Hogwarts, and it is not me," Regulus finally said gravely. "I got the letter from Mother this morning, the letter about you and the mudblood."
Sirius immediately rose to sit, eyes alert. His mind finally caught up with Regulus's. "That's too fast for the regular way of mouth to mouth chain of news. Three days.. that means someone wrote directly to mother that Friday night, the letter arrived at Grimmauld Place by at least Saturday night, and Mother immediately write to you again for it to arrive this morning."
Regulus laughed without mirth. "I send reports about us biweekly, but this proves that mother doesn't need my reports at all."
And that means, all this time, his letters had always been a test of loyalty.
Regulus probably passed it poorly.
Sirius sat straighter, a grim expression settled on his face. He seemed to catch on the implications as well. "So what now?"
"What else?" Regulus retorted, the faintest sneer formed on his lips. "We continue what we've been doing. It's not like we've been talking."
After those words poured out of his mouth, Regulus immediately looked away, finding solace in the stars. He hoped he managed to leave his bitterness out of his words.
It wasn't that he was expecting Sirius to talk to him more often. Last summer ended poorly after they argued constantly about the dark lord, so it was no surprise if Sirius immediately ran to those gryffindorks friends of his for company after they returned to Hogwarts.
But that didn't mean he couldn't feel a bit betrayed. Regulus had tried his hardest at home to fix his relationship with Sirius, but here in Hogwarts his hands were tied. Everyone was watching him, ready to pounce at the slightest mistake, and that mistake included approaching Sirius, the supposed Bloodtraitor in his housemates eyes. If he wanted to talk to Sirius, it must be Sirius who approached him.
But he supposed it was too much to expect Sirius to meet him in the middle.
"Well," he heard Sirius drawled. "Since we're already talking now..."
Regulus blinked.
He turned his head to Sirius slowly, eyebrows arched.
His brother grinned, "Aren't you at least curious about the kiss?"
That was not the direction he expected their conversation to go. Regulus scrunched his nose. "Not particularly."
"It's kinda a bummer, really," Sirius explained anyway. "I mean, it felt good at the beginning, all the anticipation and the newness. It also helped that Cumbert is pretty, you know, with cute brown eyes and button nose. Nice scent. Her lashes are pretty too."
Regulus nodded along. Nice scent and pretty lashes he could relate to.
" - My stomach got hot, but that's just the way our body works, I think. I had this urge to just feel more.. warmth. So I kinda, you know.. touched her neck and pulled her closer. Stuff like that."
Regulus gulped, suddenly feeling his throat a little dry.
Sirius paused, eyes furrowed as if in puzzlement. "But it got weird after a few seconds. I suppose we just don't have the connection. It's just a dare, anyway."
"A dare?" Regulus parroted in disbelief, finally coming back to his senses. "You kissed a girl for a dare?"
Sirius rolled his eyes. "What of it? Not all of us are lucky enough to have a sweetheart so early like you do."
Regulus stiffened. "Madeline Crouch is not my sweetheart."
Yet.
"Yeah, I kinda figured that out on my own," Sirius said, eyebrows arched. "Actually, that's what I was going to talk to you about. I heard from multiple sources that you're not talking with her. Care to share why?" He paused, before he added hesitantly, "Is it... because of her father?"
Regulus stared at his brother.
Sirius's tone was careful, the first careful words Regulus had ever heard him uttered.
He probably should put up his occlumency again. Everything about Madeline Crouch.. it always left devastating effects on his mental faculties.
But.
Regulus met Sirius expectant gaze.
One last time, he said to himself.
"Not exactly," Regulus divulged, carefully taking a seat beside Sirius. It seemed all the stars had woken up tonight, their silent glow a welcome company for the both of them. "It does make me a bit more wary, but her father's actions are his own. It's just.. I've been limiting any thought of her in my mind."
Sirius blinked. "With occlumency?"
"Yes," Regulus nodded. "It's working great, so far. I'm not thinking about her in the middle of my reading, or in my study, quidditch practice, quidditch games, my leisure time -"
"Wait," Sirius interrupted, baffled, "you've been thinking of her that much?"
Regulus sighed as he nodded again. "You saw it yourself at home."
"Yeah, I kinda see your problem now." He frowned, "But Reg, I don't see how repressing your feelings on her could help. I mean, what happens once you drop the occlumency, at night, for example?"
Regulus paused, frowning. A sudden realization came and his eyes widened in a fraction. Those dreams -
"Dreams?!" Sirius exclaimed, eyes bulging. Regulus clamped his mouth shut. Did he say that out loud? "You've been dreaming about her? Is it... that kind of dream, dream?
"Nothing improper, I assure you," Regulus said in defense, blushing.
Well. Nothing too improper.
Sirius stared at him for a moment, before finally bursting into laughter. "Oh, Merlin. I can't believe it. Little Reggie's not so little anymore, but Merlin forbid his dreams are improper!"
Regulus scowled. "It's not funny. It hindered my daily activities before, now it hinders my sleep. What am I supposed to do, exactly?"
Sirius guffawed once more, and only stopped when he realized Regulus glowering at him. Sirius sobered up quickly after that, eyes intently watching him. The corner of his lips eventually tilted up. "You really like her, don't you?"
Regulus looked away, trying his best to be indifferent.
"Perhaps."
.
Regulus trudged along his classmates into the forbidden forest, mindful of Kettleburn's limping figure in front of them. Why people insisted on calling the place forbidden when teachers lead students into it as they please was beyond him.
To his disappointment, the forbidden forest looked like any other forest to him during the day. There were no dark creatures lurking around - in fact, they didn't see any creatures at all. Thick leaves obscured the sunlight, but not to the point of plunging the forest into complete darkness. Endless lines of pine, beech, and oak trees occupied the ground around the path they were taking, with thick thorny bushes of blackthorns thriving under their shadows. Gnarled roots were bulging from the dark soil, almost serpentine in the way they roamed the land, but again, it wasn't as sinister looking as he had expected.
"Alright, lads and lasses!" The professor's voice boomed, the four remaining fingers on his right hand pointing to the air, a gesture for them to stop their walk behind him. They had, he realised, arrived in a small clearing. "Gather round and be still as I call our honored guest for the day!"
Regulus watched in intrigue as Professor Kettleburn whistled, and soon, the sunlight from above the clearing was obscured by a huge shadow of a four legged bird creature, its long feathery wings extended on their side to slow their landing.
"This magnificent creature, lads and lasses, is a hippogriff."
The creature opened its huge beak, a loud cawing sound erupted as it stood tall with the feathers on its chest puffed in pride. Its front leg clawed and scrapped the fallen leaves on the ground.
Prideful.
"You all have learned how to take care of occamy hatchlings without enraging the fierce mother," Kettleburn began, "This one here will need as much caution. They're a prideful creature, Hippogriffs. Almost as prideful as some of us humans are. Difference is, while your mother bristles and rants on about your lack of respect, this one here will smack you to pieces."
So there was no difference at all, Regulus concluded.
"- To get acquainted with them, you first would want to bow to them, just like your dear old etiquette teacher taught you to." The professor proceeded to bow very low, as one did when they met another wizard of a higher station. Regulus scrunched his nose. "Then we wait until they return your bow. If they don't, then you promptly get out of their way. But if they do..."
The proud creature tilted its head, observing the professor's bow. Eagle eyes judged whether the professor's bowing posture had met its impeccable standard.
And finally, it bowed.
The professor slowly rose. "Then you're safe. When that's done, you can get properly acquainted with them by stroking their feathers."
True to his word, professor Kettleburn approached the creature and began stroking its neck as he further explained the nature of a hippogriff. He explained what their diet was consisted of, their breeding habit, their habitat and routines, their flying speed - faster than a cleensweep 78 but slower than Nimbus 1984 - their molting and how to take care their feather's health, their likes and dislikes - pompous wizards, unsurprisingly, was the top dislike - and many more detailed information in which Regulus was sure he would be interested if he ever wanted a pet hippogriff.
Unfortunately, he never did and probably never would. If he ever needed a prideful, high maintenance of a creature's company, he would come to his family first.
The class after that was a bit more engaging, as Kettelburn invited all students to bow to the creature one by one and guided them to gently stroke its feathers. Regulus was among the few students who didn't try to bow to the creature, not because he didn't want to bow, but he gathered that the risk of not getting a returning bow and disliked by the creature was high for him. He was well aware that he could be arrogant at times.
Well, that, and he didn't like the creature's smell.
"Professor Kettleburn? Does he have a name?"
Regulus's eyes were immediately drawn to Madeline Crouch. She was frowning at the creature, though her hand never stopped touching the hippogriff's neck in a long, soothing stroke.
The professor huffed. "Now, listen here, lass. We can't name a creature such as Hippogriff as we please. To name them, you'll also have to be their loyal company. Because tending to them, and then naming them, will create a bond - and they will stay loyal to you. I say we let him roam free, unnamed and unburdened by any loyalty to us."
"I see."
Regulus couldn't keep his eyes off her as she retreated to the back, mind seemingly elsewhere. Sirius had said that blocking all stimulus related to her would do him no good, but what Sirius didn't know was that once his eyes landed on Madeline Crouch, they seemed to never want to leave the sight of her.
She looked glowing in golden, there under the clearing's beams of sunshine. But it only made the shadows on her face look more pronounced.
Talk to her.
His feet were automatically pulled to her, stopping on her right. She didn't seem to notice him. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," she replied absentmindedly, glancing at him for a brief moment. Her eyes immediately returned to him and stared at him in a pause when she realized who he was.
He supposed that was warranted. He hadn't approached her in quite a while. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," she replied, voice clipped. "I just.. I am remembering something, but I think there is something I am forgetting."
Her eyes then gazed at a distance. Regulus swore he could see storms, forming in her eyes as she was trapped in her thoughts.
He missed this, he realized. Sirius had advised him to drop any occlumency when he was with her - an advice he started to appreciate more and more as seconds passed. Why did he stop looking at her direction to begin with? It seemed pointless now, when he could take pleasure in how the slightest warmth gave her cheeks a hint of red, how the sunshine made her skin look all glowing and soft. How her riotous curls playfully escaped her pretty braid.
There was something else in her look, though. She seemed melancholic, something akin to grieving passed by her face.
It was beautiful, but he liked it more when she smiled.
"So what do you think of the hippogriff?" He asked, successfully breaking her out of whatever trance she was in.
She gave him a small, polite smile. "I think they're lovely."
Regulus glanced at the half chicken creature. "Ah.. yes. Lovely."
An eyebrow was arched at him. "Do you not think so?"
"Let's just say lovely wouldn't be the word I use to describe it," he divulged.
She tilted her head at him. It didn't take long for her to catch on to his sentiment on the creature. Her lips turned playful, "Come on, don't be shy. Insult the bird. We're a safe distance away."
His lips quirked up.
"Since you asked, I found Abraxans to be more impressive than this glorified chicken. I've been flying abraxans since i was 8. My great aunt, Cassiopeia, has a stable full of them."
Crouch hummed, eyes drifting back to the hippogriff. It was now eating a dead ferret prepared by the professor. "So do you find hippogriffs beneath abraxans?"
"Not beneath them, exactly," he said carefully. He scrunched his nose when the creature flapped its wings, the wind it produced carried a rather unpleasant scent at him. "Abraxans just smell much nicer."
He met her eyes then, just in time to see it glinting.
"And you're partial to those who have pleasant smells, aren't you?"
Why did the weather feel hot all of the sudden?
Staring at her teasing smirk - the damning smirk, the one that haunted his dream, Regulus soon realized that it wasn't the weather at all. It was him. Heat was rising all over him - his face, his neck, his body.
He had to breathe slowly. Even up his heartbeat. Cool his head. He called up his magic for occlumency, putting a distance between him and -
Something tapped his head.
Regulus blinked, finding Madeline Crouch holding the rather thick Fantastic Beast and Where to Find Them book above him. "Don't start occluding now," she scolded.
It took him seconds to realize - Did she just hit him on the head with her book?
His hand unconsciously reached for the top of his head, right above his forehead. The remainder of her indirect touch lingered.
That gesture somehow made her seem chastened. "Er, I apologize for hitting you with my book."
"No, please do," he blurted out.
They stared at each other in an awkward pause.
"You want me to hit you with my book?" She frowned, questioning.
Once again, Regulus was reminded of why he desperately needed to occlude.
He took a breath, calling up his walls and began to sort his thoughts -
Another tap on his head, this time harder than the last one.
She had meant that hit.
"Don't occlude again," Madeline Crouch glared. Regulus felt his face heating.
"Sorry."
He couldn't help but stare at her dumbly as her blue eyes searched him, setting his heart on a race once again. It seemed like forever, and his mind started to wander, eyes briefly dropped to her neck. It looked very delicate.
It was too soon when she finally broke the gaze, sighing.
"Look," she started, "I don't know your reasons for occluding, but I am not a fan of this hot and cold attitude you have. You act sweet and concerned once a while, but then you would ignore me for days," her sharp blue eyes darkened with the accusation, making him gulp, "I wont meddle with your problems again like i did in our first year, but i also would prefer if my friend would talk to me."
Regulus' words were stuck in his throat as Madeline Crouch gave him one last dirty look, before walking towards the other students, leaving him behind. In an attempt to soften the blow, she tried to mumble a quiet 'Take care, Black,' as she left.
But it didn't soften it at all.
Regulus looked away, back to the hippogriff. He's not Black. Not to her. He's Regulus. She's supposed to call him Regulus.
There was something hollow in his chest now. Something that sucked every good emotion he felt that afternoon, leaving him cold. Making him want to scratch open his chest and fix it.
.
He already had the words planned when he entered the great hall; a sincere apology followed by a promise to become a better friend. He would promise to use less occlumency when she was around. She wouldn't feel ignored anymore.
But those words crumbled in mere seconds when someone beat him in getting to her, his taller figure blocking his view of her at the slytherin table.
"Hullo, Madeline."
"Callum," he heard her said.
He hated that name.
"Have any plans for yule break?" The older boy asked, leaning towards her. Madeline nodded stiffly.
"Yes. Returning home."
"Ah, that's a shame," the older boy sighed, casually folding his arms. "You know, yule breaks here in the castle are quite awesome. Not many students, not many professors, no classes. Some people would call it liberating."
"That's nice. Do you often spend the yule holiday here?"
The both of them conversed, with Madeline occasionally taking a bite from her meal. She smiled once or twice, her head tilting in intrigue every now and then. At one time she tilted her head until some of her hair cascaded to the front of her shoulder and Macnair, again, touched it and tucked it behind her ear.
Regulus looked away and left the great hall, empty stomach be damned.
.
The dungeon had always been a cold place. It wasn't just about the chillingly humid stones, or the breezy air flowing in the dark corridors. There was something predominantly cold in its nature - one that attracted warmthless beings such as most of its residents.
Regulus never claimed to be different from the rest of them.
"This meeting's a bit of a bore, isn't it?" Macnair mused by his right. They watched attentively as Amycus once again used the chest constricting curse at his opponent, now writhing on the ground.
Regulus merely hummed his reply.
Why the older boy stood so closely by him, Regulus could only assume. He knew that he had been watching the older boy, and he knew that the older boy had watched him watching him. Regulus hadn't bothered to hide his dislike towards the boy since the first Slughorn's dinner. Macnair's recent transgression only made the dislike even more visible.
"How about we make it interesting?" Said Macnair, grinning. "What do you say, Black? Care for a fun duel? No restriction."
Regulus met the older boy in the eyes, undaunted.
He understood now. Macnair thought he was an easy win. But more importantly, he thought it would be amusing to rile him up. Must have thought it would be the entertainment of the day.
Regulus hummed, agreeing easily. "No restriction."
Unlike Sirius, Regulus was not very gifted in the art of battle. Everyone in the club must have realized it, after he lost four in six duels against Evan, a second year. Regulus didn't mind. He preferred the thoughtful art of potions - where everything is prepared and measured in his own pace, to the instinctual, almost thoughtless moves of attacks and defense in the quick of a battle.
Despite this, however, Regulus was still a Black.
He entered the duelling circle with his wand ready, black eyes never leaving Macnair's bottle green. Macnairs's every slight against him resurfaced in the front of Regulus's mind. His casual flirt, his filthy hand on her hair. His thievery (Madeline was his. She was his first. He had no right-) Contemptuous and ugly rage steadily rose, bubbling and boiling right under his skin. Almost uncontained.
That's right. Macnair had dared to touch what was essentially belonging to him.
"On the count of three," Yaxley stated boringly. "One. Two."
Both of them didn't bother with three.
Macnair's curse was swift and deadly in accuracy, as expected from one of the best in the club currently. A knee reversing curse followed by a head-enlargement curse, and Regulus barely managed to dodge one and conjured a shield for the other. He knew he was at a disadvantage. He always thought too much, never decisive enough to strike in the most opportune time. A slash from a cutting curse penetrated his shield, drawing blood on his cheeks, and Regulus dodged another curse when his shield shattered.
He sent an expulso, and Macnair diverted it with ease, damaging a nearby wall. Macnair already moved on to another curse.
Regulus held on with his teeth gritting as Mancair launched more attacks, one curse after another in fast succession. His shield was broken and recasted, over and over.
Not yet.
The rage was begging to be unleashed, demanding retribution. Now. Now. Macnair needed to pay it now. Regulus just needed a window of time, just the slightest break to cast the curse he had in mind-
"Come now Black," said Yaxley from the side. "You have to attack him."
Regulus's face darkened, baited into sending another curse. Macnair saw the low magnitude of his curse by its dim light, and thought he could just dodge it. But it was a blasting curse, and when it hit the ground mere inches from his left foot, Macnair's foot got pushed by its blast and he almost buckled. Almost.
He didn't quite drop to the ground, but the brief loss of balance was enough for Regulus.
"Verso dolore."
The brief window gave him the time to vision his vicious intent clearly with the spell, and with the uncontained rage inside, he poured all his magic into the casting. He wanted Macnair to hurt. He wanted him to learn.
Macnair's arms began to twist, his wand dropping almost immediately. They twisted so violently like there were no bones inside it and a raw tortured scream rang inside the walls of the room. Macnair's eyes were red, teary, bulging in pain. Blood was squashed out of the skin of his arms, white sleeves soaked in red, and soon his arms looked like a dying twisted twig of a cursed tree.
Slowly, agonizingly for Macnair, the curse's work was done, leaving Macnair sitting and crying his thinned twisted arms.
Regulus sighed in relief, satisfied. His casting was perfect. "There is no need to fuss. It will revert back. Eventually."
Macnair sobbed quietly.
"Black," tutted Amycus in scolding. "Didn't we say no maiming?"
Regulus finally noticed everyone's eyes on him, or rather, the mess in front of him. Blood was still dripping from Macnair's freshly wrung arms. Blood marred Regulus's shoes with red.
"He asked for no restriction," Regulus murmurred at the older boy, eyes fascinated by his blood stained shoes. It was odd. Regulus thought he didn't like the sight of blood, but he didn't mind Macnair's blood at all. It was not unpleasant for him to look at it, perhaps even the opposite of unpleasant. He felt rather.. floaty. Light, at the moment.
Yaxley, on Amycus' right, sighed, before folding his arms. "Fix him."
It was part of the rules - only use a curse that has a counter available to you. The rule was made to remove themselves of the need to go to Madam Pomfrey everytime an injury from an obscure curse occurred - implying that whoever cast the curse must fix the damage themselves.
But it had only been a minute… His tongue touched the wall inside his cheeks. "I don't suppose we can wait a bit? Casting the curse took a lot from me, you see."
A glare was the only reply he received. Rude.
Regulus reluctantly approached the sobbing mess that was Macnair. He knew those arms still throb with pain - it was twisted, after all. Wrung out of the blood in it and its bones shattered, crushed inside the twist. His family's library surely had the most interesting curses. Macnair flinched when Regulus's wand was pointed at his arm once again and Regulus relished the feeling that surged from the reaction.
The counter was a bit draining, and no less painful for Macnair from the curse itself. The older boy screamed his throat raw once again and Regulus paused in his chant on the counter spell to quietly mutter his protest, "Can you be quieter? I can't concentrate well with your scream."
Macnair's eyes glowered in contempt. But he still bit his bottom lip to muffle the scream.
Once Regulus was finished with the counter spell, Macnair rise to stand while examining his own arms. They had returned to their healthy coloring - not purple or red, no blood seeping through its pores. He opened and closed his palms repeatedly, testing his nerves and his bones. There was phantom pain, but no actual pain.
The curse was gone.
Macnair looked relieved for a moment before he openly sneered at Regulus. "You're mad. Does Madeline know how much of the infamous Black insanity runs within you?"
"Do you?" He retorted, the corner of his lips barely lifted, amused at the indifferent display.
His eyes sent a different sentiment.
Regulus was serious, after all. He certainly hoped Macnair had learnt his lesson today. Regulus dropped his hand casually on Macnair's arm, patting it twice. Macnair's responding flinch was very gratifying.
"Be careful with your hand."