Jegulus: the escaping of a broken home

A broken home

TW: Abuse and homophobic remarks

Regulus' POV

"HOW DARE YOU?!? HE IS NOT YOUR BROTHER!! NOT ANYMORE! HE HAS BROUGHT YEARS OF SHAME ON THE BLACK FAMILY AND YOU ARE GOING THE SAME WAY!" screeched Walburga.

To be clear, I was the good brother. The one who would do whatever they needed to keep the parents happy. Who would continue the bloodline and follow the path set out for me.

I didn't have anywhere to go, even if I felt like following my brother's example. My brother hadn't cared enough to help me, and my Slytherin "friends" agreed with my mother and her principles. Barty was almost as bad off as I was, what with his father. And why would I have left anyways? There was nowhere I could go they wouldn't find me.

Lately, I didn't know what I thought about my parents' principles. I wasn't sure I was against them though either. There was only one thing I knew for sure, knew I wanted. All I wanted was to be free of this — this torture.

"You will learn your lesson, boy," she spat at me, gesturing for her two stupid henchmen to approach me.

I tried not to look her in the eyes. They were a sharp, piercing black. They held no warmth or love (something as silly as love was beneath us Blacks), simply an empty glare which would be that of a serial killer if looks could kill.

My mother was pretty, I knew that much. With her slender, tall frame and angular, defined features — especially her cheekbone and jawbone — she wasn't lacking in the beauty department. Must be a Black thing, as all my family possessed this same sharp but cold beauty.

I knew I would never, ever feel like one of them, but honestly, how could they be wrong? They were my family after all, and if they said muggle-borns were beneath us then beneath us they were. Families mean the best for you, no matter how they lead you to the best. I wouldn't be another disappointment.

"Yes, mother."

This was how it went. I would hold still for my beating, which was delivered after finding I had done something slightly against the wishes of my parents.

I shrunk, trying to make it inconspicuous, angling my stomach away. I had a few cuts there that I didn't want to be reopened.

They seemed to take it slightly easy this time.

Two blokes, Crabbe and Goyle, their sons were in the year above me. They worked for my mom, the brainless gits.

"Remember, Regulus," Walburga began as the men started towards me. "If one cannot argue to acquire the forces they need, what kind of a man are they?"

The quote all the Blacks were taught, our second motto, if you will. The footsteps were next to me now, and I snapped my head out of my thoughts, half-flinching already at the pain I knew was to come for sure.

My mother turned her back as usual, a pretty pointless action. She used to say she didn't like seeing me hurt.

I sunk to the ground once they dropped me. No blood this time, just a few spots that would bruise. I lay motionless until I heard all the footsteps receding.

I heard the lightest pair pause in front of the stairs. "Don't disappoint us Regulus."

I lay unresponsive, until I was sure they had all gone. And then I slowly got up and brushed myself off. I walked to my room and shut the door behind me, letting out a breath I hadn't been aware I was holding.

One step at a time. One day at a time. Soon I'll be free to go on my own. Just two more years till I'm free. Till I marry whoever I'm required to and "settle down" or whatever else was needed from me.