LITTLE CROWN

R.A.B

[gayokay]

[emersonyaxley-blog]

[OPEN]

How many times had she yelled Diffindo? Not enough, apparently. She could still feel the steady boiling of her blood just below the surface of her skin. Slowly, Emerson pried her eyes open, a shiver chasing up her spine. A heavy mist clung to her clothes, the sun blotted out beneath a series of small gray clouds.

“Sorry,” she breathed, fingers flexing, allowing the severed stalks of tall grass to sift between her fingers. They’d been subjected to her sudden surge of rage. Her free hand moved, cupping her throat, massaging it gently, aware of how hoarse her voice had been. The cold was getting worse, now creeping into her bones, settling there, but still, she wasn’t ready to move. Every time she took a breath, her chest felt heavy, and a now familiar prickle in her eyes dared to betray her.

Emerson choked back a sob; crying felt unnatural, and yet it was all she wanted to do right now. She gave in to the urge with an awkward laugh. When she’d been eight she’d fallen out of a tree and broken her arm, Henry had cried in her stead, she’d been too fascinated by the strange angle at which her arm hung.

When she couldn’t cry anymore Emerson eased herself up into a sitting position, drawing her knees to her chest. As her gaze cleared she caught sight of another person nearby. “How-” she started, her throat tight. She swallowed hard, “How long have you been standing there?” she sniffed.

[littleblackcrown]

Regulus found himself sulking, again. His presence was feeling particularly obsolete these days. For so long, the weight of the Black family name had rested on his shoulders, and now, without it, he was suddenly feeling ill at ease. Heir to the family or not, it was still his duty to uphold the sanctity of their lineage. 

Beneath his left eye, he felt the familiar twitch of muscles, a tick that was becoming more obvious as the days went on. He continually wasted his breath ranting to Kreacher about his feelings over the entire situation, but there was only so much the small house elf could offer in the way of comfort. Things were different now, sitting and listening to him massacre Twinkle Twinkle Little Star for the hundredth time wasn’t going to be a cure-all. Even if Kreacher seemed to have an even more passionate distaste for Sirius than Regulus himself did. The youngest Black was more than aware how much of a yes man the creature was; Regulus almost didn’t bother ordering Kreacher to keep silent — though he kept up with tradition, the small creature was a house elf first, not his friend.

A rough voice seized his attention. Slipping forward he watched long stalks of grass fall until the voice was too exhausted to continue and the owner fell along with it.

Regulus found himself mildly annoyed, he'd picked this place so he could be alone. Then again, leave it to Emerson Yaxley to be the odd man out, yelling at a bunch of grass in a clearing in the middle of the woods. He about turned around when he heard an apology. You should be apologizing to everyone for being as you are. The thought slipped through his mind, but his lips parted, “I think it’s the grass you should be apologizing too,” a slight smile twitched at the corners of his lips as he looked at the female, pausing as he realized she had been talking to the plant, not him.

He stood there dumbfounded, people were perplexing enough in their own nature, but Emerson was on a different level. At times the female reminded him of his cousin, Bellatrix; though he didn’t see her hexing anyone any time soon. The company she kept was the overly emotional Quidditch player and his simpleton cousin, neither of which Regulus felt was worth anyone’s time. With friends like them, he would probably be sitting alone in a field crying too.

That’s what you were probably about to do. The voice in his head betrayed him. He scowled and urged the thought away, hating how true it possibly was. Moving forward he felt the muscles in his jaw twitch. Regulus wasn’t sure which he detested more — that he was forced to quell his own emotions, or that he knew all too well what it was like to cry alone. He pulled out his wand and murmured a simple spell, drying off her sweater before shrugging off his jacket and draping it over her shoulders. “You’ll catch cold like this,”

At Emerson’s question, Regulus met her gaze and held it. It was obvious she wanted him to lie. "Is your love of plants all a facade, Emerson Yaxley?” he finally murmured, toeing at the pile of grass at their feet. “Best be careful, or Witch Weekly will be commenting on your murdering spree.”

[mental-ch-illness]

shoutout to my favorite coping mechanism, isolation

[sakurasou]

Sometimes suffering is just suffering

[littleblackcrown]

siriustheblackstar‌:

Sirius knew he was pushing his luck, but he had not come back to act like a man who had completely changed. No one would believe that and if they did, well, Sirius would suspect them more than ever simply for sheer idiocy. No, Sirius knew that he needed to still act somewhat like the lazy lout they thought he was, at least when it came to his family. And calling his brother by a childhood nickname would go a long way – or at lea st he hoped.

His own lips quirked at being called Siri and he refrained from telling Regulus that the last time he’d been called that had been in the bedroom with a woman whose name he could not remember. Shaking his head and rubbing under his eyes, he leaned back against his chair. “It is that, but I’ve no plans for the day.” He was a bit hungry, of course, though Sirius did not take this as an olive branch on Regulus’ behalf. His brother was craftier than that, or at least he hoped he was. He looked out at the table and took a piece of bacon off of a place near him, taking a bite of it without even putting it on his own plate. It was rude, of course, but he could not be bothered to care when it was just the two of them.

Tapping his fingers on the table, Sirius considered his younger brother. The joke that came from his lips was surprising and Sirius allowed himself a soft chuckle. “With a splash of milk and a sugar, actually,” he responded with an ease to his voice that had not been there before. “Though you’re not the first to assume that.” He’d always liked using his name for the amusement of others – and for his own – and that had not changed in all of his time away. “I don’t like the bitterness so early in the morning. Espresso in the afternoon? That I’ll take on its own.” Perhaps Sirius was talking too much, but he realized that he did not know his brother any more than his brother knew him. And if gaining his goodwill was as easy as having conversation about how he took his coffee, well, Sirius was willing to make that sacrifice.

His brow rose again, though this time not in amusement. “Has Kreacher become your personal elf now?” he asked, finding such a thought unlikely, but annoyed with his brother for [even inadvertently, not that Sirius believed it as such] suggesting that he could not simply ask Kreacher himself. “I am perfectly capable of providing instructions to him as you are.” He rose from the table. “I’m also capable of making my own.” Bloody elf probably wouldn’t make it correctly anyway.

He watched the flicker of a smile on his brother’s face at the use of the nickname. He’d almost forgotten it was what he used to call his brother because Sirius was just too serious. Back then he’d felt important giving someone a nickname, especially when that someone was his brother. Something only he could use. Regulus couldn’t help but think about how stupid it sounded now. The only reason he’d bothered with it was to create a neutral playing field. If he was too rash concerning his brother he’d never be able to find out the truth. Then again, if he was overly friendly, it may very well backfire on him as well. During their years at school, there had always been a bit (if not a lot) of friction between the two of them (though Regulus made it a point to steer clear of his brother and his friends). If anything, he could write it off now as an order from Walburga, and his own disappointment — all of which was obviously gone, now that Sirius had returned to the family and taken up his responsibility. 

His responsibility. Not Sirius’, but his own. How was it fair that his brother had left, and he’d stayed, he’d been under Walburga’s thumb his entire life, setting him up to take over the family, and then his brother simply waltzed back into their lives and stole it all away?

“That’s a first,” Regulus mused at Sirius’ news, aware of the now slightly mangled piece of toast he held. While he hadn’t been particularly vocal about his frustrations, they seemed to have started spilling out in other ways. Eating the toast quickly, to cover his tracks he allowed himself to match his brother’s laugh. The joke had been patronizing at best — how many times had he heard it himself over the years? He couldn’t help but feel as though such remarks were only belittling the Black family name. It was only an exception this time because he had been the one making the joke.

There was something sympathetic in the youngest Black’s expression as he looked at his brother. By every means Kreacher practically was his. The elf had been there for Regulus through everything.  From violin practice to the nights he’d hid under his covers and cried because he’d been scared of thunderstorms. Kreacher had grown up with him, he’d been a friendly ear, a shoulder to lean on — the relationship Regulus had with the elf would be frowned upon by most. No one ever claimed a house elf as their best friend. Well, no one but Regulus Black. Though if you asked him he would be quick to name Narcissa or Bellatrix. He wasn’t stupid enough to say Kreacher in public (though the lie didn’t come without the small niggle of shame in the pit of his stomach).

“I’m afraid Kreacher lacks the excitement over your return,” Regulus offered, keeping the sad expression. As though Kreacher’s loathing was a point of regret; if anything, it made Regulus giddy. “You know how devoted he is to the family,” a low sigh slipped through his lips as he gave a shake of his head. “He never quite got over you leaving.” He wrinkled his nose slightly before gracefully rising to his feet. “If you aren’t going to drink this, may I?” his hand extended toward the cup, the other wrapped around his waist as he waited for the response. “I never did take to coffee,” Regulus smiled at his brother. “Black or not. I’d be better off drinking a glass of milk with a splash of coffee.” He laughed.

[littleblackcrown]

rosalind-selwyn‌:

Rosalind wasn’t one for relaxation. For letting loose and resting. Even as a child the redhead had been high strung at all times, and he pressure her father placed upon her, accompanied by her own machinations and goals, made it difficult for her to loose herself into doing whatever a child her age was supposed to do, besides her father didn’t allow it. Rosalind stopped being a child when her father took notice of her, and she stopped being able to relax shortly after. It took sneaking into the Muggle world to meet her former ballet colleagues for teenage Ros, as well as adult her, to realize how easy it could be to be worry free for awhile,  when the political and societal games surrounding her became too much. But no matter how much she wished to go, there were times when Rosalind couldn’t  drop everything run the Muggle world. The Bohmemia and it’s live music was second best to the flat she herself kept near King’s Cross.

It was what she was trying to do, relax and let everything wash away as it usually did. Only it was harder this time, for Jazz wasn’t her favourite type of music, it wasn’t even one she enjoyed, and there were people everywhere, with the constant murmur of voices all around her adding itself to the hodgepodge of sounds coming from the performers. Ros still tried hard not to pay notice to anything around her, and focus on one point somewhere behind the “artists” while her mind worked it’s way into emptiness.

Her peace was broken by someone bumping into the table where was sitting at, and Regulus (where did he appear from?) performing some sort of spell so that none of their drinks spill (when did he get a drink? How long has he been sitting there?)  and the person who caused the whole incident walking away. With a small frown and accompanied glare placed firmly on her face, Rosalind sent a small tripping jinx under the table to the person walking away - causing him to fall on his face, which only seemed right - before turning to her newfound companion.

Whatever calm was left after the interruption, was gone when she turned to speak to Regulus. Her usual reaction towards him wasn’t the best, what little filter  and poise she usually had disappeared and what followed her opening her mouth to say anything was almost always an embarrassment. For once this pattern was different, Rosalind was too cross to say anything stupid. Instead her reply to his question was, “I wonder why some people have eyes when they just don’t use them.” which while it was odd, it was an improvement.

In spite of himself, a flicker of amusement crossed his face as he watched the man stumble forward. He hadn’t heard the jinx, but he didn’t doubt that it was Rosalind who’d sent it. Some of the purebloods were a specific sort of petty, not that he minded. It was interesting to see how above everyone else some of them assumed themselves to be. Even with the damage done to the family name between his brother and his cousin, there was no doubt that the Blacks still reigned over the rest of their society. He didn’t need to trip anyone in order to prove it either. If anything, he preferred potions over hexes, and honestly, the man wasn’t worth him wasting his energy. That was what Rosalind was there for; to waste her breath on the trivial manners.

He brushed back a stray lock of hair from his face his gaze meeting her’s, “Next time, wait until it sends him sprawling into another man’s date.” Regulus suggested his voice flat. His gray eyes studied the scene that had unfolded at the man’s sudden spill. Everyone pretended to be concerned, someone moving from their seat to help him up. He’d quickly become the victim making the jinx feel a little lackluster in Regulus’ opinion.

Calculating eyes shifted back toward the girl, watching her as he took a sip of his drink. Regulus withheld several remarks simply because it wouldn’t be proper. If he were sitting across from someone such as Maida, he might have indulged himself, but this was Rosalind, and Rosalind meant Narcissa. He didn’t need his cousin to scold him for being cold to her friend, though it was no secret how passive Regulus’ interest in the redhead was. Much like how you fail to use your brain when you’re around me? The thought swirled around in his own mind, but still, he managed a smile as he set his drink back down.

Perhaps he was enchanted by your beauty. He thought mindlessly, that would be what Narcissa would want him to say meanwhile Bellatrix might offer something more along the lines of We might as well get rid of them for him seeing as how he doesn’t use them. It was the latter that turned his grin into something a bit more sinister, though the expression was brief.

“Are you alright though?” He drawled, head cocked in concern, settling for his earlier remark. “Issy would never forgive me if I let something happen to you while I was here,” he purred, leaning in toward Rosalind. With luck, she’d be just as flummoxed as usual and silence herself. He hadn’t come here tonight to listen to her talk after all.

[caesariscsr]

character moodboards: Regulus Arcturus Black

To the Dark Lord,

I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more.

- R.A.B

[chalamet-chalamet]

🎶 Round the city Round the clock Everybody needs you 🎶

[littleblackcrown]

siriustheblackstar‌:

Sirius had not spent much time with his family, even though he was living under the same roof. That had been something he’d tried to argue, but Arcturus had heard none of it, refusing to even entertain the thought that Sirius would return to the family, offering up his own brand of punishment to the new but old heir of House Black. But while Sirius had been able to come to a détente with his parents, he’d had little opportunity to speak to Reggie, something that he thought they were both happy about. He tended to sleep in until doing so was unseemly, allowing himself one old habit if only to convince his parents of his motives.

He had just begun to stretch when he heard the familiar pop and Sirius groaned, both inwardly and verbally. He did not like this elf. “Yes, Kreacher?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep as he began to sit up in his bed, curious as to why the elf had bothered him in the first place as they had not interacted much either. His brow rose as Kreacher mentioned that Master Regulus was at breakfast and had requested Sirius be woken.

What was Reggie up to? After sending the elf away, Sirius threw on a dressing gown and ran his fingers through his hair, refusing to dress for breakfast when he knew his parents were already out, no doubt attempting to discern what promises Arcturus had enacted from Sirius before giving him back his proper position as heir.

Though Sirius was much more alert – working as a hit wizard would do that to a man – he did not act like it and instead kept his gait slow, relaxed, nearly lazy as he entered the room for breakfast, falling into his chair more than perhaps sitting in it.

“Good morning, Reggie,” he mused with an upturn of his lips. “You wanted to see me?”

Though there was already a drink in his usual spot, Sirius found that he wanted something very specific and let out a sigh. “Did Kreacher forget my coffee again?” he asked his brother, tone grumbling as his hand came up to rub along his jaw.

Regulus managed to curb his sneer. When was the last time he’d been called Reggie? Everyone always referred to him as Regulus, it was standard, he almost dared them not to (thankfully everyone seemed to be intelligent enough to not wander down that route — everyone but his brother). He’d been so pleased by the nickname back then, it’d almost been a badge of honor, being noticed by his older brother.

“I figured you might be hungry is all, Siri,” Regulus hummed without missing a beat. “It’s getting a bit late.” Slender fingers brushed his hair back from his cool gaze. He couldn’t help but take in his brother’s appearance. Regulus was properly dressed and had been up for the past couple of hours, whereas Sirius looked as though he found the first thing on the floor and hadn’t even bothered to wash his face. “You’ve a bit of sleep, just there,” he added, tapping a finger beneath his own eye.

Thankfully, like his disparaging expression, Regulus managed to refrain from remarking that seeing Sirius was the last thing he wanted. It would suit him better to be locked in a room with Rosalind and Maida than to have him back.

“You’ll have to forgive me, that isn’t something I keep track of,” he commented dryly. It was a slippery slope he’d found himself on. He had to be courteous to Sirius, in spite of his urge to throw any caustic remark in his direction that he could. “Let me guess, you take it Black?” Regulus asked with an amused grin, allowing himself to fall into a more cooperative attitude. He would have to keep up the ruse for Sirius, just like he did around the rest of the purebloods.

Taking a small bite of his eggs, he chewed them thoughtfully before resting his fork against his plate and picking up his toast. “If you’re thirsty, just drink what’s there,” he gestured using his free hand, to have gestured with his food would be unbecoming (something he’d read in a book as he prepped himself to take over as heir, not that it was needed anymore. Regulus wondered if his brother had ever been subjected to reading the book). “I’ll have Kreacher make you some coffee when he’s finished with my room.” Regulus took a bite of his toast before bringing his own drink up to his lips. The thought of Sirius asking Kreacher to do anything, and the poor house elf having to obey didn’t sit well with him. The Elf was a better friend than his brother had ever been. If he didn’t think himself above that sort of station, he may very well have gotten up to prepare his brother’s coffee himself, if only to save the creature from having to bed to Sirius’ whim.

[littleblackcrown]

knockturnburke‌:

“You’re lucky my murder sprees are reserved for those of impure blood” and family members, he thought to himself, with a smirk creeping onto his face. His eyes had narrowed slightly though he was not overly bothered by the name calling. Just surprised. Of the many things he had been called over the years, Octopus was certainly one of the tamest, though he would not be encouraging Regulus to repeat it. Though he had been called worse name and this one barely scraped the sides of mildly irritating, he would not hesitate to hex the younger man if he persisted.

His eyes were nudged towards Regulus’s older brother, Sirius, a man with whom Octavius had never been friendly and had no intention of being. He would have wondered why the young man standing next to him felt so eager to leave a party hosted by his own family, had he not been as intelligent as he was, and he knew that only morons would not understand. He may have enjoyed rubbing salt into the wounds, but Regulus was a young Deatheater, one of those Octavius had swore to himself to help guide in the Dark Lord’s service, and he knew that losing focus due to the sudden arrival of a long disowned brother who none of them trusted would be difficult on him. 

He nodded and led the way, as he was bid and though it irked him to be told what to do, he rationalized that only he knew where they were going. “You’re lucky I had business to attend to tonight, otherwise this might have been a little dull for you” he commented, as they stepped out of the party, away from the noise, the mindless chatter and the two-faced masks. “Do you need me to side-long you, or have your heard of The Knife’s Edge?” he asked, referring to an old, run down pub that very few frequented and if they did, they were the shady sort. His contact lived in the basement below the pub and he was late on a shipment. 

“Must be the Felix Felicis I drank for breakfast this morning,” Regulus commented dryly. Though it only took one look toward the eldest Black brother to refute such a comment. He allowed his lips to curl, mimicking the older male’s expression. You didn’t get anywhere in life by backing down the moment you were faced with difficulty. Octavius stood as more of a nuisance than a threat — besides, murdering a Black was akin to signing yourself up for death. They were a family that did not go quietly.

Regulus fell into step alongside Octavius, though he had to allow the older male a wider step if only to lead the way. At the mention of The Knife’s Edge, his eyes widened. It wasn’t the sort of place someone of his standing was ever supposed to end up in. The innocent facade he created for himself didn’t lend itself to a place such as the pub. It wouldn’t bode well for his image if he was seen frequenting such a place. Anyone who mattered already knew his status as a Death Eater, the last thing he needed was to indulge in such a shady location.

That wasn’t to say Regulus wasn’t curious. The mention of it now had his body vibrating in a newly found excitement. “I’ll manage,” the boy remarked, keeping an even tone. In his chest, he felt an anxious thud of his heart. Before they could manage to get anywhere, there was a sharp call of his name. The elation quickly dissipated, he didn’t need to turn around in order to identify who was after him. It was Walburga. Undoubtedly she was keen on keeping up the facade of a happy family. He supposed his mother would have him fawn over Sirius, conveniently forgetting that until five minutes ago he had been set to lead their family on to something better. As always he would play second fiddle to his older brother. Even when he was winning, he was still losing to Sirius, that never seemed to change.

“I’m afraid I’m needed,” Regulus remarked, the spark had faded quickly for his gaze, he was solemn now. His body folded in something of a bow, head nodding, bidding Octavius farewell. He knew better than to keep Walburga waiting. “Until next time, Octopus,” Regulus managed a flicker of amusement as he slipped in the name a second time before vanishing back into the crowd and finding himself at his mother’s side. With his shoulders back, head held high, he allowed a smile to settle on his lips. Anyone would believe that he was happy to see his brother.

[END]

[blackregulus]

@quidditchleaguenet august challenge: quidditch players - slytherin team

“He played Seeker,” said Harry. “What?” said Hermione vaguely; she was still immersed in Voldemort’s press clippings. “He’s sitting in the middle of the front row, that’s where the Seeker … never mind,” said Harry, realizing that nobody was listening.

[littleblackcrown]

narcissathea‌:

Narcissa waited until they were outside to look back down at him. The cat’s fur truly did remind her of Regulus’ hair and the small thought made her smile. The art of becoming an Animagi was hard; one that took dedication that Narcissa maybe did not have. Regulus’ ability to change into such an appropriate animal was impressive, to say the least.

Although, she knew he only did it now to hide. Narcissa wondered if the ability was truly worth the trouble if all it became was a very fancy way to escape. Her eyes scanned his back as she listened to her heels, clicking against the pavement, echoing around them as they escaped the mansion. 

Then again, who was she to judge?  Narcissa had taken one look at Sirius, found Regulus, and immediately bolted out of the mansion herself. Sure, she was not an animal, but she was running away, fearful of what she might do if she did not. Sirius did not want to see her right now, after all. There was nothing in her that could convince her that he would ever be happy to be surrounded by their family again.

Finally, she got to a spot where she thought it would be safe that no windows would see her disappear. For a second, Narcissa closed her eyes, and thought of the beach, before apparating away. When she opened her eyes, the waves were rolling in front of them.

Narcissa let out a deep breath and, not even caring about the state of her dress, found herself sitting down on the sand, Regulus still in her arms. IT was then, though, that she felt his paws kneading her arm. Looking down at him, Narcissa smiled ever so slightly, rubbing behind his ears before using that free hand to prop her up. 

“You’re welcome,” she said, softly, eyes going back out to the sea line.

His ears twitched, eyes closing, taking pleasure in the weight of her hand as it moved over his ears. Touch wasn’t a big part of their family. Then again, praise and recognition weren’t either. It didn’t matter what you did, how well you displayed the attributes of a Black, there was always room to be better — your accomplishments didn’t matter. Narcissa appeared to be the most affectionate out of the Blacks, Regulus coming in at a close second, though those feelings were reserved mainly for Narcissa, and on occasion, Bellatrix.

Regulus could still recall the month he spent mastering twinkle twinkle little star on his violin when he first started playing. The only one back then, apart from Kreacher, who had given him any praise was the cousin who now cradled him in her arms. Sirius has commented, only because Regulus had somehow managed to corner him and his brother had given into his excitement over the song. One of his better memories of his brother. It was tarnished by what Regulus now felt was a backhanded compliment.

Thinking of his brother again, Regulus bared his teeth, the fur on his back beginning to rise. How was it he had such a penchant for ruining everything? He couldn’t help but wonder if there was a possibility that Sirius may very well die if he didn’t wreak havoc everywhere he went.

Squirming in Narcissa’s arms, he freed himself and bolted toward the water, beginning to chase the tide as it pulled away from the shore. When it rushed back toward him, he took off again. The scene repeated itself until a stray wave bested him and pulled him out into the ocean.

For a moment, he panicked. Was this how he was going to die? Chasing waves while sulking over the return of his brother. Pathetic. Though it took him a moment to come back to his senses, Regulus realized he’d be better suited for the ocean in his usual form. When he changed back he found that the water was barely a quarter of the way up his thigh as he sat in the sand — not much of a threat, if any, now.

Getting to his feet, Regulus grimaced and sloshed back toward his cousin, unable to help from coughing up the sea water he’d swallowed. Falling down next to her he gave a short sharp toss of his head to get rid of the hair that hung in his eyes. Still coughing, he pulled out his wand, it took three tries before he was able to silence himself long enough to dry his clothes off.

“Cissy,” Regulus murmured, his gaze fixed on the sea, the thought of drowning still weighing heavily on his mind. How difficult would it be for him to simply walk into the water and give himself over to it? Sirius was the reason he wanted to. Sirius was the reason he didn’t want to. No way was his brother going to win like this. Regulus wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

His fingers pulled through the sand, drawing his cousin’s profile. Though he’d called her name, he hadn’t said anything and wasn’t sure if he wanted to. Even though it was Narcissa, Regulus couldn’t help but be a little embarrassed. From the moment she’d come to him he’d been uncharacteristically childish. A sense of shame had settled on his shoulders.

Regulus Black did not want pity. Especially that of Narcissa. Somehow, having it come from her made it infinitely worse.

[littleblackcrown]

@siriustheblackstar

As Regulus clasped the small square vial, he felt its side digging further into his palm. The fingers on his free hand traced over the pattern carved along the lip of the table. He always felt dwarfed when he sat here alone, memories of his childhood were never far off. Even when he'd had breakfast with his family in the past, he'd felt like an outsider, intruding on the lives of his parents and his brother. As much as he enjoyed being alone, this was one place he wished he wasn't.

Since Sirius' return, their parents had been leaving the house early in the morning, supposedly to speak with their grandfather about the next steps concerning their eldest son's return. Not that the older man was keen on divulging anything. They had failed already, how could he trust them to succeed this time? Regulus couldn't help but wonder why his grandfather stepped in now and not back when he had taken over as heir to the family.

"Kreacher!" Regulus' voice was abrasive as he finally spoke, a sharp contrast to the usual tender tone he took with the house elf. Pausing for a moment, he swallowed the lump in his throat, his voice soft when he addressed him for the second time, "Kreacher, please wake Sirius now," Regulus requested. The expression on Kreacher's face suggested he didn't buy Regulus' newfound compassion for his brother when he suggested they allow Sirius to sleep in. While the young master could be tenderhearted, when it came to his elder sibling he had not known Regulus to have much love, if any, for him since he left. "And then clean my room," Regulus added.

There was a small sensation of guilt as he thought about the clothes he'd tossed from his closet that now littered his bedroom floor. The task was small, trivial really, but it would keep Kreacher busy just long enough after he woke Sirius. As much as he trusted the house elf, he didn't want him to witness what he had planned. At the very least, if he was asked, he wouldn't have to worry about betraying Regulus.

As Kreacher vanished, Regulus felt his limbs grow heavy, but he pushed himself back from the breakfast table and leaned forward, uncorking the vial. Taking a deep breath, he held it, counting out three drops as the Veritaserum fell into his brother's glass. Such a small amount of a clear and odorless liquid would go unnoticed. Now all he needed to do was wait for Sirius to take a drink and he would have his answers.

[qvibbler]

Harry Potter Meme: ♛ Nine Characters

9/9 Regulus Black

[littleblackcrown]

knockturnburke‌:

The flat, uninterested tone said it all. Octavius had already suspected that the boy was less than ecstatic about his brother’s return, but a few swift pokes and he knew everything he needed too. “I know as much as some, more than others, but my knowledge is gleaned only from observation" he shrugged, as though it were nothing. Octavius had learned only one useful thing from his father, and that was to keep his eyes and ears sharp to those who surrounded him. He would never know a person’s true intentions or motivations, unless of course he drugged or tortured the truth out of them, but those methods were far too messy and not to be used in this world.

Octavius had observed the Black family for many years, as he had with every other family, and learned a great deal. Bellatrix was as fierce as she came across to be, she commanded respect without trying. Narcissa, though she looked like an angel, had a cruel streak to her and an unapologetic nature. Andromeda, though she had been banished, had been just as hard as her sisters but gentle in a way they had never been, which was probably why she had married a mudblood. Sirius had always been a show off, though he seemed to yearn for acceptance and Regulus was a quiet, intelligent kind of fury that no-one ever saw coming.

He enjoyed watching the tapestry of their life stories weave itself out in front of him.

“Some would say there is every need, given what we both know I do” he said, with a raised eyebrow and a hard expression. His eyes narrowed slightly, in warning perhaps, or scrutiny. Everyone knew, in some shape or form, the things that Octavius did and could do. In the many years he had been alive and kicking, very few people had ever dared to speak about it with him or confront him on it. 

“What did you just call me?” he asked, every word he spoke was slow, clearly pronounced held fury in every syllable. 

He raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips. “Can I tell you? I do not think that I can, but show you perhaps, yes” he mused, leaning back against the wall behind him. “You seem to be done with this so-called party” he stated, “leave and I can show you”.

“Oc-to-pus,” Regulus broke down the syllables as he answered Octavius’ question. It was likely meant to rhetorical, but the boy didn’t care. There was a challenging glint in the younger male’s gaze as he stared the older down. The fury laced in Octavius’ words didn’t rattle Regulus, he could hold his own. On the chance that he failed, undoubtedly, Bellatrix would be close behind to settle his revenge. Regulus had long since learned that it was pointless to bow down to fear; that wasn’t to say he didn’t find his knees bending on occasion, even he was still human, but he remained determined not to surrender control.

A jab for your blow Regulus thought, equating his passing remark to Octavius’ own comments that seemed intent on grinding salt deep into his fresh wounds. The youngest Black had long since stepped up in role concerning his family. When he went out, he wasn’t Regulus Black, he was The Heir to the Blacks. At least he had been.

Regulus could feel his eagerness beginning to bubble up inside of his chest. As far as their society went, he knew full well that he existed somewhere in the gray. The white housed those such as Emerson Yaxley, his cousin Isla, and their friend Henry Sayre. Even Narcissa seemed to linger above him. The darker underbelly hosted others such as Fletcher and Octavius, and in contrast to her sister, Bellatrix. Regulus awkwardly straddled the layers of their world, never quite fitting in on either side. There was an urge to be unscrupulous if only to prove his worth as a Death Eater, while his natural nature kept him from it. 

Perhaps this was what he needed, the thing to tip the scales, the person to tip the scales. There was no love between the Black brothers, not in Regulus’ opinion. What better way to start down the path he wanted than to take care of Sirius? Was everyone truly so naive as to believe that his brother had suddenly found a sense of loyalty to his family? That idea was laughable. Regulus had seen him with James Potter, he had witnessed the look in his brother’s gaze. There was loyalty there. Letting his gray eyes find his brother’s face it didn’t take much to convince him that none of that devotion to his family was present now.

“Lead the way,” Regulus murmured, an arm sweeping forward as he body bent slightly at the waist. His eyes were locked on Octavius now, his emotions had settled, his gaze sharp and cold.

[littleblackcrown]

thedamsel-ts‌:

Hazel did what she assumed to be the polite thing, and ignored that way Regulus seemed to curl in on himself for the briefest of moments before he collected himself. Similarly she ignored his apologetic look. To acknowledge it would be to admit that he had something to be sorry for. If she had taken offense, she had already forgiven him so it seemed a waste of energy to dwell on it now. 

When he offered his arm she slid her own through it. On the way out she managed to snatch a bottle of champagne from an elf’s tray. It wasn’t the sort of thing she would have usually done, but it seemed necessary that evening.

Once they were outside and far from the crowd she held out the bottle in offering to Regulus. “At least it will never be said that the Blacks do not know how to make an impression. Was there no warning that this might happen? I had thought he was gone for good.”

The last thing Regulus wanted at this moment was to be surrounded by people, people included Hazel. Even as the crowd began to fall away, her presences next to him still felt suffocating. As strong as the urge to vanish from the party entirely, was, he would remain and do the gentlemanly thing, and allow Hazel to tend to him. It bothered him that she should think he needed her. Understandably (though he didn’t enjoy it) the name Black only went so far for his image, there was no shaking the fact that he was the youngest of the oldest in their society. Couple that with the fact that in spite of stepping in as heir to his family, there was the undeniable truth that he was the youngest son. The little brother to Sirius Black. That was something, no matter how hard he tried, he’d never been able to shake, and likely never would. There were those who still thought of him as a child — his cousins were prime examples, even if Narcissa wasn’t that much older than him herself.

“As part of the standard upbringing of a Black, we are subjected to a month-long training. We spend a week on making grand entrances, a week on leaving impressions and a week on perfecting the I’m looking down my nose at you because you are not and never will be a Black stare.” he demonstrated the look. As much as he was joking, there was truth to what they both said. The Blacks were hardly known for being subtle, and they all had a patented stare letting you know you would never quite be at their level. “And the last week is one of rest. It truly is exhausting being the superior example of our kind.” Regulus lips cocked into a half smile. While the family name might have taken some blows recently there was no denying the prestige of the Blacks, even amongst the other purebloods.

His joke had been at the expense of his family, of his self — but he was still a proud member of that family. As the heir, it had been his duty to be aware of the image surrounding the family. Even if it hadn’t been his concern, it still would have been obvious that the Blacks had a certain air for theatrics. He would accept the remark, he would make the remark, that mocked his family, so long as he didn’t have to answer Hazel’s question.

Regulus wasn’t quite sure which hate was stronger. His hate for Sirius, or the hate that Sirius hadn’t thought to tell his only brother he was returning. Then again, what did Regulus expect? He’d never mattered to his brother.

[peacockheir]

“Can I help you with something?” There was no masking the amount of annoyance he felt toward taking it upon himself to approach Regulus and try to figure out why the young man was leaned against the counter of his family’s store. He had started off with ignoring his presence, checking the books to make sure the numbers in the cash register and records matched.

Focusing was hard when it came to the youngest Black’s presence. Usually, Charles could handle people trying to talk to him but Regulus had yet to speak up. It was almost as though the man knew his presence was enough to stick him on edge.It didn’t help that he seemed set on redoing the display in front of the cash register. Having redone the display at the start of the week left Charles needing to press his tongue against his cheek each time China clinking against the counter caught against his cheek.

Regulus may have been younger than him but Charles knew full well that he could not push him away unless he wanted to hear both sets of parents tell him off for being disrespectful. He pinched the bridge of his nose and gave an exasperated sigh.

“Usually people buy things by now instead of being hellbent on making me miserable.”

@littleblackcrown

[littleblackcrown]

Regulus was quiet. The fact that Charles worked at all was really sort of mind-boggling (he often felt the same toward other members of their society that worked, even if some of them did so because it was how they were here in the first place). Steady gray eyes had followed the older male as he altered the display. There was an interesting eye for detail Charles seemed to have — that was something Regulus could appreciate.

“No,” Regulus responded to the initial question. He bit back a request for Charles to find him a chest large enough to fit a body in. Though he’d never had high, much less positive thoughts concerning his brother, the youngest Black had found his mind clouded with particularly violent images after his Sirius’ return. Up until now, Sirius was nothing more than a hazy memory that if it weren’t for Walburga and her constant reminder that Regulus would do well to not end up like his brother, he might have very well thought he’d imagined Sirius up himself as a playmate; not that he’d been a particularly good one.

It was what came next that made Regulus pause. "I’m making you miserable?” a curious eyebrow cocked itself. Apparently, it didn’t take much to aggravate Charles. “I’d hardly say I’m hellbent on making you miserable, in fact, I wouldn’t say it at all,” If Regulus were being truthful he might have included the fact that he hadn’t been thinking much about the male even while standing there. His existence was trivial for the moment (if not always — the Black boy almost felt that if Charles were to suddenly go missing, his presence in the society could wholly go unnoticed).

“Trust me,” There was a flicker of emotion in Regulus’ gaze. Whether it was amusement or something more devious wasn’t clear. “You would know if I were here to make you miserable.” He paused, obviously thinking something over. “I take that back, apparently you wouldn’t.” There was a dismissive shrug of his shoulders, his head pulling briefly to the side before righting itself. “Though if you’re insisting on being nettlesome, just select something and send it to the house — I’m certain you have a file on Walburga’s past purchases. Make it match those.” 

No doubt she would love a new china set, Regulus thought, eyeing what was surrounding the counter. Slender fingers extended, lifting one of the carefully placed cups and holding it up at eye level. Something nice for her eldest son to eat his breakfast on. He almost sneered thinking about his brother. And a new bed to replace the one he’s long since outgrown, Regulus thoughts continued, the teacup turning over in his hands. He felt the muscles in his arms twitch, his grip tightening. The voice in his head was beginning to deviate from the thoughts of his brother and was now trying to convince him as to how satisfying it would be to swing his arm and send all of Charles’ work crashing to the floor. The cup slipped as his grip eased, fingers toying with its handle as he began to tease it towards the tips until it balanced on his index finger, swinging, threatening to fall.

Quietly he placed the cup on the counter, nudging it toward Charles. “I’ll take this, just this,” his last comment was made, a harsh note creeping into his voice, daring the male to try and sell him the rest of the set. His voice returned to something lighter as he spoke again, “And whatever it is you wish my mother to own.”