d u t y & b l o o d

regulus arctus black || eighteen death eater || healer trainee.

[ronweasley]

[lostxbcy-blog]

andrmdatonks‌:

WITH: Open. WHERE: St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. WHEN: June 1st, 1979. ( 21:23 )

With lime-green robes covered in blood, Andromeda was surely not a good sight. Making sure to cast a quick cleaning spell before she stepped out of the patient’s room, she sighed in relief as she heard him start to snore just as she closed the door behind her. Andromeda hadn’t yet specialized in a specific department, and therefore took patients on a case by case basis. This one had been one she had almost pushed others to the side to get. The man refused to tell where the bite had come from, and ever since he’d been placed on the first floor, Andromeda was still scratching her head over what could possibly have done something like that. She loved it, really. Challenges were one of Andromeda’s favourite things, especially when it came to her job. So far, she had managed to stabilize the patient, and planned on spending the day exploring Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and other books about magical creatures. Maybe even the Monster Book of Monsters, if the rest of the research didn’t resolve in anything. 

Spring in her step, Andromeda made her way to the first floor to go outside and get some food, having discarded her robes in one of the healers’ rooms. She was just about to go out when she noticed a familiar face, and frowned as she made her way over to them. “Is everything okay?” she asked in worry, looking at them for signs of injuries or illnesses. 

In his short life, Regulus Black had always done his best to be the obedient son his mother and father always wanted him to be. Rebellion didn’t become him, he didn’t have the backbone to argue against his parent’s wishes and so, in most instances, he obeyed them, did as he was told and waited for that spark of approval in his mother’s voice. Still, there was one thing that he had rebelled against and it was what his parents had wanted him to do. 

In their heads, Regulus was better fitted for a job at the Minstery of Magic. They wanted him to be a diplomat of sorts, part of the political circle of the Magical community but Regulus had always wanted to do something else. He liked helping people, even if he wasn’t very good at talking to people. He wanted to be of service and so, he decided to be a healer. Or at least, he thought he had decided, his parents just told him that it was an okay hobby to have until he was old enough to take his place in the Wizengamot. 

But Regulus loved his job. He loved working at St. Mungo’s, even when all he could do at the moment was change sheets, clean rooms, give baths and serve potions in little glasses to pass them around to patients who needed them. It was a rewarding job, to be there for patients who needed him, to bring them lunch and hear them talk and read them stories. But of course, working in a hospital still had it’s downside. There were aches they couldn’t heal, patients that couldn’t be saved, wounds that couldn’t be fixed with potions or spells. 

Regulus knew all too well that this was part of the job. That he couldn’t get attached to every patient he met and he couldn’t grief for the ones that eventually passed away but he was still young, he was still learning and the old woman in room seventy two had been kind and she liked drinking tea with him and she always called him by the wrong name but smiled at him as if he was someone she loved dearly so knowing that she was gone ached in a weird way.

“What?” He sniffed, cleaning his face as he looked up at Andromeda, straightening his back to appear taller. He was supposed to hate her, seeing as she was a blood traitor but she was family and it was really hard to hate someone you loved. “Yes. Yes, of course.” He mumbled, brushing his hands over his robes to have something to do instead of looking at Andromeda. “I’m perfectly fine. Nothing to worry about, ma’am.”

[lostxbcy-blog]

“I sold my soul to a three piece...                                       and he told me I was Holy.”

Regulus Black; A Life in Fragments:

One: The children of the Noble and most Ancient House of Black are meant to strive for perfection, From womb to tomb, there is always something expected from them and they are meant to reach those expectations, no matter how, no matter the cost. 

When Walburga Black got pregnant of her second child, those expectations were written down in a long list, set in stone for this new baby to reach them, even when said baby wasn’t even properly formed: first, the baby had to be a girl. A beautiful girl with dark hair and pretty eyes. She had to be poised and sweet but ruthless and cold. She had to be posh, well mannered, charming and most of all, she had to be good wife material. In the wizarding society, connections were everything and to preserve blood status, arrange marriages were common. And Walburga wanted a daughter to continue her legacy. A daughter to become a matriarch of a new house. But when the baby came, the first thing he did was disappoint. Instead of a daughter, Walburga got another son.  

Regulus Black was born in silence, with his eyes closed and  is two months early. He was a fragile little thing, needing special care or as his parents would say, with venom in their lips, he was weak. Still, Regulus developed, under the care of the healers he became a healthy child and finally cried for the first time. In the race to perfection, he had started late and he would have to spend his whole life making up for those mistakes, even if they weren’t his fault at all. Even if they weren’t mistakes at all.

Two: [ child abuse tw, i tried to be vague but still, caution advised ] Childhood wasn’t easy. It never was for someone born in a demanding family, it never was when the mother was more governess than mother and the father was more absent than present. It was never easy when the tenderness was lacking and discipline was reinforced in ways less than ideal. And it was specially not easy when you lived in the shadow of a brother that was everything you were not. 

Sirius was the heir his parents always wanted, he was a good son, he was always a mile ahead from Regulus in the race for perfection, he was always on the lead when it came to meeting expectations. It seemed so easy for Sirius and Regulus admired him for it, instead of building resentment towards his brother, Regulus loved him unconditionally, strove to be (as his mother constantly demanded ) more like Sirius.

Regulus was a quiet child. He learned from an early age that mother liked him best when he was seen and not heard. He learned to find joy on books and solitude, in keeping to himself and playing with his imagination. There was of course, his bond with Sirius. He played with his brother and got in trouble for being loud. He made friends with Kreacher, reading him stories and having conversations in the attic about each other’s day.

He learned discipline and manners under his mother’s watch, he learned the consequence of being bad with tears in his eyes, the heavy hand of his mother and spells from his father. He learned to sit properly and what different forks were meant for. Tho he was still far from what his parents wanted of him, he was....Decent. Passable. 

In magic, he was a late bloomer. His mother feared he would turn out to be a squib so she tried to force the magic out of him. Her methods caused him to mostly get hurt but the one that worked was locking him in a closet for hours on end. His magic blasting the door open in a blaze of fire and smoke. He was seven and despite his mother being proud, he cried for hours, quietly and in his room. 

[ tw over ]

Three: Seeing Sirius leave to Hogwarts was terrifying. Being home alone scared him but there was nothing he could do about it, only wait for time to pass, try his very best to be good. And then....Came the letter. Regulus was ease dropping and he had never seen mother more angry. Gryffindor, she sneered. Sirius had landed on the wrong house and mother took that as a personal offence. Slytherin had been the house of every Black in history, being sorted somewhere else meant nothing good and it was as if Sirius, despite being always being good, had fallen from grace. 

Four: When he turned eleven, there was a strange kind of tension at home. Sirius seemed different in the wrong ways and there was an invisible weight on Regulus shoulders. He had to do better than Sirius, he had to be what Sirius wasn’t and when all his life he had been told there was something lacking, doing better seemed an impossible task. 

In his way to Hogwarts, Regulus didn’t feel nervous. He was terrified. There was an unspoken agreement or threat or something. You better not end up like Sirius.  It wasn’t optional, he had to better and better was Slytherin. So as he sat in that stool in front of everyone, hands sweaty and heart pounding fast, he kept pleading to get sorted into Slytherin. 

The Hat told him he would’ve been better suited in Hufflepuff, hard workers and reliable friends. He told Regulus he’d thrive there, find a home within the badgers easily. Slytherin was not the right fit for him but still, Regulus closed his eyes tightly and begged him to ignore that, begged him to make him a Slytherin. One minute of silence and the hat, reluctantly, called out Slytherin.

Five: His parents were proud. It was as if he had restored the family’s honour. Now all he had to do was elevate it. Become the best and brightest. Be what Sirius couldn’t be, what Sirius refused to be. So Regulus had an objective now, he worked hard in his classes to stay at the top which made it hard to make friends with others. He made it to the Quiddich team and trained harder than anyone else, got angry when his teammates didn’t do enough for them to win. He was bright and responsible, with bags under his eyes and a half smile on his lips and soon, Regulus became the good son. From being a spare, to stand on the spotlight, he was the rights to Sirius’ wrongs. Obidient, standing by his parents side, believing what they did. He knew too well what it was like to not be good enough, to feel Walburga and Orion’s disappointment heavy in the heart and it scared him to go back to that place when he had finally made them happy. Proud.

Six: Despite their difference, Regulus loved Sirius. Even as he changed, Regulus still loved and admired his older brother and while there was an undeniable distance between them, he never thought it would end up the way it did. Never in his wildest dreams did he thought Sirius would leave. Leave him. But the choice was made, the picture on the wall was burnt to the crisp, his name forever destroyed from the family tree. 

Regulus clung to the railing of the stairs, a part of him wanting to chase after Sirius, grab his arm and beg him to stay. Or....Take me with you. But he didn’t. He closed his eyes tightly and pushed the feeling away. He was not like Sirius, he wouldn’t be able to live on his own, he would never fit in a world outside of what he knew. He had tried so hard to be what his parents expected of him that if he ran, if he chased after Sirius and left everything behind....What would be left? What was Regulus without all this things he was supposed to be? 

He could have left but he was born weak.

Seven: Adapting to a wold without Sirius was easy. Loneliness had always been a friend and when he needed to talk to someone, too tired of the silence of House of Black, he could always go to the attic and found Kreacher there, with a cup of tea ready and biscuits to share. Still, the absence of Sirius was a heavy weight, it lingered on the halls and haunted every room. The ghost of the ex-son that should never be mentioned. He was there, in the back of everyone’s minds, like a buzzing energy that left the air filled with tension and anger. Sirius left a mess behind him and Regulus had to deal with the aftermath. With Walburga’s anger, with Orion’s frustration, picking up the pieces of what was supposed to be.

He was now the heir to the name Black, it was now his duty to carry the crown that was never meant to fit him. It was heavy and Regulus was not made to be king. He was too quiet, he was not very good with people, he was too kind, too soft around the edges but still, he took on the responsibility. He tried his best to glue the pieces back together, desperate to find a solution for what Sirius had done and then....Then came the whispers of a man seeking power. The gossip of an elite group. Only the best, only the most pure, only the worthy. Walburga Black, more than anything, desired status and to be above everyone. It was obvious what Regulus had to do to make her happy and yet, he didn’t want to do so. And Walburga made herself martyr, whispering about the disappointment that were her children.

So Regulus sold his soul. Signed the contract with the devil, ink on his arm to prove a loyalty that he didn’t felt. He had nowhere to go, nowhere to run. There was no one there to teach him how to get rid of the tight grip his parents had on him, no one to explain that pleasing them was wrong. When he realised what he had done, he regretted it in an instant but he willingly walked into the cage but perhaps.....He can find a way to finally be free. 

ooc: holy shit this is way longer than i intended it to be but i think i covered everything i wanted to cover lmao. but anyway...........hello my pals, my name is mj and i will be playing dear regulus, a mess of a child who has no freaking clue what he is doing with his life but who is trying his best to figure it out.  you know, your classic teen but with a whole lot more angst and an imminent war.

i’ll be doing the character sheet soon-ish if you want those curious facts but still, if y’all got any comments or questions about my son, please feel free to send them my way through tumblr or discord. if you have plot ideas, hmu as well, i am open to anything so throw your children @ me.