duplicity - regulus black

III | regulus

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     SHADED HUES OF ASH and night, the olive rings flecked with the golden silks of the strokes - the black haired boy focused his eyes on the simple wooden beams of his lifelong bedroom. It was painfully simple and mundane, well, in contrast to the stringing entanglements of silver constellations knotted within his thoughts. Each ponder causing the Black Family's Prodigy to instinctively run the pale outstretches of his hands to soothe through the river of dark curls. Though the notion hadn't dissolved the anxieties rattling his manner, he eventually resorted to the intense stares at the thick barrier above. Dampened wood, pillars and domes, a historic monument of his blood's personal temple, the only remaining impediment isolating Regulus Black from the infinite abyss of stars and possibilities. A navy ocean, a darkening nuance of mystery; where he ever so longed to be.

     The chiselled pales of his cheek bones were permanently stained a faint crimson, one would doubt that the heavy moon's reflecting his lack of rest would ever cease to exist. However, the withered tear ducts of his orbs' silks had pathetically exhibited the dried embers of the Slytherins' complexion.

    Perhaps if the bedroom beside his hadn't been painfully draped in an unusual silence, or the conflicting demons of his actions hadn't been constantly bickering amongst themselves - then Regulus could have contemplated his current book's meaning in peace. Then there had been a new sensation, a negative one. The ultimate itching and burning had been a result of his unfortunate loyalty, the harsh sting was one that was bound to be difficult to become accustomed to. Sometimes he wished, prayed even, that he had been lucky. Lucky enough to hear the house of crimson and gold to be called from the famous hat sat above a younger version of himself, hoping to be reunited with the brother he missed dearly.

    But no. Alternatively, the hawks that had been his parents glared above him, scowling at the lack of blood purity crowded around them at the platform. Now a matured age of sixteen, he no longer missed his brother. Merlin, any sense of pity was cruelly washed from his morals. Regulus detested him. A typical rivalry, Slytherin and Gryffindor, it hadn't been at all taboo or new to the wizards of Hogwarts. So, as a result, when his parents sneered in snob ridden disgust, he had joined them. The same eyes of olive leaves, but they now lacked the innocent  sparkle of golden flecks.

     Walburga and Orion Black stood proudly behind their well dressed son, conversing merely with the Pureblood family of Arcadia's. The simultaneous couple were unusually kind for people of such high status, yet they still associated themselves with Wizards of bad reputations. May that be the known cruelty of the Black's and Malfoy's, or the unforgivable actions of one who bared no name. They also had children, a son who was quite far past his Hogwarts days, and a Slytherin daughter, a year older than Regulus. The two were considered friends, sure, but the girl was an unusual puzzle, a mystery that many had begged to decipher. However, Regulus had just been grateful to earn himself a... true friend.

    "Carmen is excelling in Astronomy, though she was far too embarrassed to be seen with us." A slight chuckle emitted from Mr Arcadia. "But if she is old enough to..." He trailed off, but the fellow Purebloods understood exactly what he had meant. "Then she is perfectly fine boarding the train earlier and alone." Orion, Regulus' father, had smiled slightly too. However, Walburga's thin lips stayed pressed sternly, the stubborn line of judgement not daring to twitch. Regulus internally scoffed.

     "Regulus is exceptionally good at potions." Orion bragged slightly. "Even managed to urge himself into Horace's; 'Slug Club.'" This wasn't at all unusual, Pureblood families bragging between themselves, a constant battle of using their children as objects.

     "But there's always room for improvement." Walburga hissed beneath her breath, casting a shadowing gaze over her youngest son. Perhaps that had been the result of the familiar faces of the Potter's passing by, ironically accompanied by their once... eldest son. Regulus had diverted any, and all eye contact - while his parents' eyes glazed over with a haunting fog of disgust. It had been that passing Summer that the youngest Black managed to bare a word to the older Gryffindor, though he would never admit it aloud to anyone. Well, perhaps she may listen; he pondered, slight optimism. But now, Sirius Black wasn't at all associated with the Pureblood name, the term 'blood-traitor', suiting him better.

      Part of him used to believe he was being irrational, hating his brother for the colour he wore. Though now, it was slightly more complex than that. It wasn't a petty jealousy, or a pathetic grudge, his brother had replaced him, earning himself a newer crowd of 'brothers'. And to further his hatred, he simply left. Leaving nothing but the abundance of charmed muggle items, permanently plastered to the walls and furniture. Sirius Black was one who would make his presence and departure known, known to everyone of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Regulus had watched in horror, the blazing embers of an ornamental stitching, the once beautifully coordinated tapestry of his family's history. Sirius' wide smirk seeping away with desire regret, though the Gryffindor had actually celebrated in victory.

    Regulus hadn't wanted to be caught staring, somewhat longingly, at his brother. Maybe he had been trying to convince himself, that Sirius valued the Slytherin boy's opinion, his attention. Though that hadn't been the case, he had never seemed happier. The once stern pales of his lips were curved upwards in heavy laughter, and any trace of restless nights of pain and weeps were non existent. Regulus had envied him. The stars aligned in Sirius' favour, while his younger brother was a melted gleam of a failed art piece, one begging to attempt at becoming a replica of the constellation.

"Well..." Mrs Arcadia had attempted to interrupt her acquaintance's stating, her and her husband growing rather tense and uncomfortable. "The train leaves in approximately... ten minutes."

"So it does." Orion responded blandly, turning back to face the slender woman. "Regulus, we want you to write to us as soon as you arrive at Hogwarts." His father stated, his voice more so sounding like an order. Regulus nodded slowly, he wanted nothing more than to isolate himself far in an abandoned compartment, alone with his thoughts and recent novel. However, he was pessimistic enough to ensure himself that it was unlikely, given that most of the students had already piled onto the train. He internally, and silently, cursed his parents for forcing him to stand around. He too, had the mark, wasn't he trusted and mature enough as Carmen?

"We... may see you at Christmas." Walburga said, her voice lacking any sort of waver, painfully and simply monotone. Handing him his darkened leather satchel, which he promptly tightened over his shoulder, he bid his parents farewell.

"Goodbye, Regulus."

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discussion

Sirius runs away during 6th year in this story, so that's something I have altered for storyline purposes.