Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
── Sunday 13th February 1972
THE MELODIES TRAVELLED THROUGHOUT THE MUSIC ROOM as young Regulus' fingers slid across the keyboard of the grandpiano. Over the course of what had become almost a year, the young boy had become better and better at not acknowledging the criticaleyes that peered at him no matter what he was doing.
He had never felt so observed, yet so ignored as he had done these past months. It seemed Walburga was ready to catch out each small slip-up - like a hawk watching its prey. It was plain to see that his mother was trying to recreate in him the necessary qualities of a true Black which Sirius was clearly lacking.
If Regulus was to be completely honest, this small, silent attention from his mother had sparked a new hope in the boy - the hope that he could make her proud - even if it was rather intense.
It was no secret that this had always been a goal in the young boy's life. After all, no matter how many curses she tossed at him and Sirius, she was still their mother, yes? She had their best intentions at heart and good sons made their mothers proud; she'd said so herself.
"Alright, that's enough," his mother said, breaking the fierce hold she had on him, as she looked away to pick up her wand. Regulus turned to her, blinking when she used magic to tame his head of curls. "Rodolphus has offered to allow you to stay at the Lestrange residence throughout this meeting and I want you to be on your best behaviour, understood?" He nodded. "Good."
── ✧ ──
"Isn't this place usually locked when someone comes over?" Regulus asked Rabastan when the two were finally alone. They were both in the kitchen, the latter rummaging through the drawers and cabinets for snacks.
Rabastan shut the fridge, pulling out two bars of chocolate, "Nah, it's just when Ev comes over. He always ends up burning something and it annoys Rodolphus."
Regulus smiled, "That sounds like Evan. I guess he's not coming then?"
The other boy nodded, "Dickhead managed to convince his mother to take him to meet the dark lord, since he's 'practically eleven'," he said, adding air quotes. "Mind you, his birthday is in April," Rabastan complained, rolling his eyes as he held out a chocolate bar for him to take.
Regulus blinked at it, a skeptical look on his face, "I'll pass," he said, "I ate earlier."
Rabastan's eyebrows knit together in confusion, before he shrugged and ripped off the paper, taking a bite out of the sugary treat, "Hey," he said, his mouth full. Regulus cringed. "Has your brother met the dark lord?"
