philophobia-the fear of falling in love
or becoming emotionally connected
to someone...
~~~
This is a story you've heard before, passed down through generations, about a young girl and a young boy who utterly despise each other.
Then, somehow, t...
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xli||the mark
Waking up groggily, Regulus sits up in his messy sheets, hearing loud voices from downstairs, he instantly recognises one as his delightful cousin Bellatrix and then her husband Rodolphus. He runs a hand through his hair that seems much longer and even more messy than a week ago when Maria was running her hands through it. He rubs his sleepy eyes, truth is, Regulus hasn't had much sleep since that night in Paris, maybe it's the burning sensation in his gut that just keeps reminding him he's getting the dark mark any moment between right now and the first of August, or maybe it's because he isn't with her.
He wonders what will happen after.
After he has the mark, after his parents announce his and some pure blood Princess' engagement, after her. Because he knows if he is still alive, there will be an after. Because, no matter how much he loves her and how much she loves him it will always end in a tragedy. Some part of him wonders what the point is, if they're both going to end up hurt by the end of it they may as well just end it now, but then another part of him says that above everything she is the only thing he cares about right now. Not even his life could ever compare to hers in his eyes.
He runs hands through his dark hair and slips a sweatshirt over his bare upper body, sliding into some sweatpants and going to shower, daydreaming about how he'd feel if he walked in and saw Maria stood waiting. But she wasn't. Of course, it's not a surprise, he just hoped that if he maybe repeated it over in his mind enough times she would magically appear next to him.
After showering, Regulus puts on a black shirt and some dark jeans, the first two buttons of the shirt open and his messy hair staying in its untameable form on his head — no matter how hard he tried to comb it into something formal. He knows they're going to the Malfoy Manor today for 'important business' that Regulus is yet to be informed about. Spraying his cologne he notices Maria's cardigan she'd accidentally put in his bag on their way home from Europe and Regulus had noticed its strong smell of perfume. His lips twitch slightly before there's a loud bang on his door and he quickly throws a hoodie over the cardigan, sliding his rings on just as his mother storms in.
"Could you have taken any longer?" Walburga asks snappily and Regulus stays quiet. Living in the house for the seventeen years of his life, he learned to always keep silent, because when you're quiet, nothing can be held against you. Of course, he speaks up sometimes, like when Bellatrix is slandering his brother or especially when a certain Maria Potter is brought into the conversation. "Come, it's nearly eleven o'clock!" She then slams the door behind her and Regulus lets out a breath of relief, opening his door agains and strolling down the creaking staircase and towards the kitchen.
Slowly pushing the heavy door, he's greeted by Kreacher who's moving his hands and as he does, pots and pans float around the kitchen.
"Master Regulus." Kreacher greets in his usual croaky and tired voice.
