constellations

Regulus Arcturus Black. 16. Slytherin. Truthfully if there's anything you want to know you probably have the means to figure it out.

[regvlvs-arctvrvs-blog]

Closure [Sirius]

The sheaf of parchment between his fingers was wrinkled beyond belief, clutched tightly in his grasp. How dare he? How dare he interrupt his life like this? Moreover - why? He’d never expected this. He’d been taking breakfast earlier and earlier, and he’d been surprised when one of the school owls had swooped down and dropped the letter directly into his bowl of porridge. Surely his parents, or anyone he actually wanted to hear from wouldn’t have had either need nor access to one of the barn owls from up in the owlery. He hadn’t read it over his meal, stuffing it into his pocket before it was confiscated for some reason or another. Other students weren’t the only ones wary of Slytherins right now, and he wasn’t about to be apprehended for something he hadn’t even opened yet.

His retreat back to his room was hasty. He was anxious for news from the outside, any ounce of information was more than they had currently, but he wasn’t going to get that. He was met instead with familiar scrawl not unlike his own, and he felt himself falter slightly.

How dare he.

How fucking dare he?!

He debated on using an incendio to get rid of the letter, but what good would that have done? No. He needed to deal with this head on, and he wasn’t afraid to confront him in person, not at all. He wasn’t going to write some letter to deal with his feelings, he was going to shut both them and him down. It had been far too long now. Perhaps last year he might have welcomed something like this, but he’d moved on, and replaced them all with a new family overnight, and he hadn’t even sent an owl that summer even to let him know that he’d survived the night and actually made it somewhere safely. He didn’t get to do this, not now. As far as Regulus was concerned he didn’t deserve that kind of closure. Not now, and not ever.

He couldn’t focus in class, not knowing that when they both left their last classes for the day they almost always crossed paths, and today he planned on taking advantage of that. He didn’t get to send some letter and wrap up their family with some little bow, put them away in a box where he’d never have to deal with them again. He didn’t get to tell him how amazing he was, tell him he was important, and not have the balls to come back. He didn’t know just how much everything had changed, and he wanted - what exactly? For the two of them to be at school and act as though things were still the way they were when they’d been boys and begged their parents for Vesta? He gripped the parchment even tighter as class came to an end, and he knew the time was coming. He hadn’t moved from the door to the charms room until he had seen him at the opposite end of the hall, and then he moved with purpose. It wasn’t something that anyone from their house had done lately, choosing instead to walk with their heads down to avoid being seen. He didn’t care about the shoulders and elbows that met him though, nails tearing the parchment slightly as he approached Sirius, finally throwing it at him, resisting the urge to shove him up against a wall, and settling for demanding answers alone. “What is the meaning of this? You think this changes anything? Anything at all?”

[regvlvs-arctvrvs-blog]

Hide and Seek [James]

[jamesprotter-blog]

James had come outside to fly.

The weather was chilly, although the earliest sun rays were shining relatively cheerily and glinting off the wet grass. It was a remarkably summer-y day for October in Scotland, and probably one of the last truly fine days for flying. As a rule, James believed that windier, wetter days were better for practice - if you learn in the worst of conditions, after all, you’d be prepared for anything. (His team, of course, hated going back to the lockers sopping wet and muddy, and were fond of calling him insane for insisting on it. Sirius had always been the ringleader, then, as he fake-seriously informed James he’d become a straight-laced stick-in-the-ass… he’d probably been jealous, James thought, a little more spitefully than he intended, jealous that James had been chosen as Captain and he wasn’t, even though they’d both been on the team for three years, now…)

Nice days like these, though, were good for relaxing and letting his mind wander. It made you appreciate flying for its own sake, rather than for the thrill of the game, and by now James knew the Quidditch pitch so well that he could fly laps with his eyes closed while singing Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts. Which meant that it gave him lots of time to think.

He’d woken up early this morning, while all the others were still asleep in their beds, or at least pretending to, and left. Things between him and Remus were still tense, and he and Sirius were alternatively ignoring each other and yelling furious insults across hallways at each other’s backs, so the dorms were a rather awkward affair. (As for Peter, well, James hadn’t talked to him, but seeing as he and Sirius were attached at the hip, now, he assumed he knew all about what had happened. Not that James particularly wanted to talk to him, seeing as he’d pretty much stolen his best friend. And could bloody well keep him, now, too, James thought.) It was easier just to leave.

He’d wandered down the corridors to the broom closet and swiped his broom before quickly making his way outside. The grounds were deserted this early in the morning, which was perfect because James wasn’t exactly in a people mood. James made a quick decision and headed off in the direction of the Quidditch pitch, repeating over and over the last angry thing Sirius had yelled at him, before Charms yesterday. (Who did he bloody think he was? Lily was off-limits, and that was private, he’d had no right to loudly make fun of it in front of the class… or to call him Bighead Boy). James squinted angrily into the distance, and scowled.

Regulus Black. James recognized his distinctly neat black hair and the way he puffed up his chest from 200 meters. James had never liked Regulus, the small, conniving little snake always colored by Sirius’ stories and James’ unshakeable hatred for the Black family. James headed his way, lengthening his stride and letting his broom slip a little over his shoulder. He’d changed his mind; he was in the perfect mood to confront Regulus Black.

“Dropped your wand, Black?”he called out, casually. “I could help you look. After all, we wouldn’t want you to start flying without a nice cushioning charm on the ground.“

[regvlvs-arctvrvs-blog]

This really was pathetic, that he had to resort to this just to find the balls. Merlin forbid he wanted to try and reform the team himself just for something to keep things in Slytherin even the slightest bit light-hearted, when the other teams couldn’t seem to respect the equipment enough to put it away when they were finished. All he wanted was an hour to relax. Was he really asking for so much?

It seemed so, when that particular voice cut into his thoughts, and he let out a dramatic sigh. Of course James Potter would be the one to turn up when he’d specifically come down here at a ridiculous hour for clarity. Why would he be so lucky as to have the pitch to himself when someone like James Potter existed? It seemed to Regulus as if James Potter’s soul purpose in life was to take everything he could from him personally, and the early hour wasn’t about to provide him an out this time. He didn’t have it in him this early in the morning to argue with him, and so he’d ignored him at first, lifting up another of the bench skirts to peer underneath.

The longer he looked the angrier he became, and though it had only been a few moments since that voice had interrupted his thoughts, he felt as though it had been much longer, and he’d turned around, folding his arms over his chest, still clutching his broom - much tighter now, his knuckles gone white. “I don’t make it a habit as much as you do to fall from my broom, feel free to charm the pitch if you plan on making an arse of yourself. Couldn’t give a shit myself.” Because if he at least made it seem like his existence didn’t bother him, eventually he’d have to feel that way, right? He resumed his search for the ball chest, though he was all too aware of Potter’s presence. It only cause him to behave more dramatically, heaving the curtains around and sighing, kicking posts when he couldn’t find what he was looking for. He hadn’t resumed his search for very long at all when he’d turned back to the Gryffindor, entirely unable to focus on the task at hand, “Either tell me where the balls or stashed, or go away. I don’t have the energy for you right now.”

[regvlvs-arctvrvs-blog]

tea & toast

[dearmckinnon]

Marlene felt like she was losing her mind. She was a clever, enigmatic girl who had a knack for knowing things that remained dark to others. She lived in a space where people trusted that she would be in their same mindset, despite the deliberate way she refused to say anything leaning to either side. She had gotten her calculations down to a science long ago, and made herself into the image of someone people trusted without real reason. She didn’t fit into Slytherin because of her political views or her social status ( though her family was high up for various reasons ), she was the verbatim puzzle piece. She was cunning and manipulative, and extremely intelligent.

Never had she seen this one coming, though. She had been so preoccupied for the last month that she missed the whispers, the excitement that brewed inside the dormitory walls. Thinking back, there had been moments when it should have been so obvious, so easy for her to figure out. And yet, she had been too consumed by the presence of a boy, too distracted by the feelings she had never known before. Her curiosity got the better of her there, allowing her to be consumed by him. It had been short-lived as it was. She took things a step too far and he hadn’t spoken to her in two weeks. So needless to say, she was coming undone with each passing day.

Though he was a contender to her insanity, it wasn’t all him and she wasn’t willing to include him in her downfall. She was better than him and his dumb, dramatic face. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of ruining her, though she was certain he knew that he had. A large part of her faltering mind was the attack on the post office. She had been in Hogsmeade at the time, frozen in place as she watched people she had lived with for years, grown to love even, disappear around her. Christos Mulciber, a man who sought after her for so long, even stopped to give her a conceited smirk. “You coming?” He had asked, and she hadn’t even been able to answer. Of course she wasn’t, she didn’t even know what was going on. Until a teacher grabbed her by the arm and hauled her out of the way. It had occurred to her, the way the teachers were fighting and the students just apparating out of the way. They had already succeeded in whatever they were doing.

It had been a test. Voldemort didn’t want anyone in school. They had talked about that many times. He was too intimidated by Albus Dumbledore and had no interest in getting involved in the castle. He wanted his followers to prove themselves loyal by leaving school to fight the fight. And so many of them had done it. It was amazing how few people were in the dungeons these days. If they weren’t hiding in their dormitory, they were hiding elsewhere. No one really talked anymore and the worst part was the scrutiny that came from the rest of the school. All the remaining Slytherins, whether very young or not, got jeers from their classmates. Marlene, still used to being someone everyone liked, got elbowed on the daily.

It made her so angry that they would assume all the Slytherins just didn’t make it past the force field. Though it didn’t help that few people had seen a teacher pull her out of the way. They made the assumption that it hadn’t been because of the fire that threatened to mar her silky skin but because they had stopped her from leaving with everyone else.

She wasn’t usually up that early in the morning, but sleep was a distant love affair she only caught glimpses of on occasion. Neither was she really ever seen at breakfast, but that morning she awoke with a pounding head and a sore throat. Something told her a blistering cup of tea would help her situation, so she made herself look presentable and went to the Great Hall right as the sun was rising into the sky. Her posture, normally perfectly straight with not even the slightest of slouches, was imperceptibly slumped as she entered the Great Hall with her chin up and her eyes not look at anything in particular.

No one said anything directly to her as they were all sleepily trying to eat their breakfasts, but she could feel their eyes. Cold and unyielding. She felt it in her gut as she took a seat and made herself a cup of tea. She had been there for a full minute before she realized who she had placed herself directly across from, her back to the rest of the room. “Morning, Regulus.” Her voice was gravelly, more hoarse than normal. She hoped it sounded more like remnants of sleep than anything possibly more sinister. “You’re up early,” she told him. This was followed by a laugh and a casual shake of her head, blonde curls bouncing around her shoulders. “Or I’m up early, I suppose.” She left her words at that. Marlene wasn’t  the type to talk someone’s head off. She would make a comment and then either willingly converse when they decided to or let the silence sink in, not uncomfortable by its presence.

[regvlvs-arctvrvs-blog]

He nibbled at the toast while he tried to listen in on a conversation happening between professors McGonagall and Slughorn, though their hushed tones at the head table made it difficult. He seemed very interested in his toast, staring at it though his thoughts were nowhere near food. How anybody in their right mind could actually sit here and eat right now was beyond him. Even students in other houses had to realize what the mass exodus meant for them as well. The war was only just beginning, whether they were ready for it or not. Soon the day would come when they would have no choice other than to pick a side, and a quick glance around the hall told him that the most difficult decision some of them had ever had to make was between strawberry and raspberry jam. He hated those few. He carried the weight of his burdens with him, and had never met a decision that simple in his life. Every decision he made felt like it was life altering, right down to his decision to stay behind and play spy.It was all going to lead to a better ending though. Eventually everyone would understand just why things needed to be this way.

He hadn’t noticed Marlene sit beside him, still feigning interest in his meager breakfast as he tried to pick up whatever he could from the conversation going on so near. He nearly jumped when she’d greeted him, turning and offering her a smile, “Good morning, Marlene… I’m fairly certain I’m the one up early… I don’t normally see you when I come down later than this.” He was observant, yes, but it wasn’t a necessary quality to have noticed that since returning he hadn’t seen her at breakfast.

Being observant had helped him in other ways when it came to Marlene McKinnon. If you asked him, those that had left had practically been screaming it from the rooftops in the weeks leading up to their departure. More than once he’d gripped an arm in the halls and delivered a look that could have killed, but only begged for discretion. He’d noticed that Marlene had not been a part of any of those conversations. That didn’t mean anything though because she was bright. He didn’t think she was the type who would have conversations where they could be overheard. He figured if she spoke of it aloud at all, she was smart enough to make sure that she wouldn’t be overheard. Regulus though, was growing quite good at overhearing conversations that weren't meant for him. He had his doubts.

For instance, he'd overheard that Marlene herself had been stopped from apparating away by a professor, and that was news that he hadn't been expecting. He hadn't known that she'd been planning to leave with the others, but then it could have been as innocent as a professor trying to keep her from harm. He had no way of knowing himself, as he'd not been anywhere near the post office when it had gone up in flames. He hadn't seen it for himself, but he could be reasonable when considering it, something that it seemed the students in other houses could not do. They saw silver and green and assumed the absolute worst, when most of them were far too young to even understand what had happened, let alone been involved. They still took the abuse though.

Marlene was still a mystery though, and one that he wanted to figure out. If he had an ally within the castle walls, he wanted to know, but he couldn't just come out and ask her. He had to be discrete. He put his toast down on his plate, picking up his tea and cradling it between his hands, enjoying the warmth. It was easy to forget what it was like to be warm when you spent your time beneath the lake. “Have you heard anything?” he asked, turning his attention back to her, “From the outside? I haven't had an owl from home in weeks, and the prophet hasn't even been delivered. It would be nice to know what exactly is going on out there.”

[regvlvs-arctvrvs-blog]

Hide and Seek [James]

He’d had to figure something out. It was the only reason to be out this early on a Saturday morning, particularly when it was beginning to grow colder. Team practices were never scheduled before ten in the morning, and so he felt safe heading out at seven in order to get some flying time in. He wouldn’t get very much, but if he really focussed he could probably manage to catch the snitch a couple of times before he’d have to make himself scarce. It truly wasn’t fair. The Slytherin team, along with losing four of their players had also apparently lost their weekly pitch time as a result. The other houses seemed to have taken it upon themselves to divide their time amongst themselves, and that did not sit right with Regulus. It was like they didn’t expect them to rebuild the team from what they had left, and had decided they wouldn’t be playing for the cup.

Not if he had anything to say about it. He’d already mentioned it in passing to Professor Slughorn, who had muttered something about looking into alternatives before carrying on. And really in the grand scheme of things it didn’t matter whether or not he got to play quidditch. He did have much more important things to worry about, but he enjoyed the game. He loved every second he spent on the pitch, and he didn’t want to give that up. In another lifetime he would have loved to have been a professional player, but that wasn’t very likely to ever be a part of this reality. If anybody else had known that, they certainly wouldn’t blame him for at least wanting to play as long as he could.

He didn’t waste time in the Slytherin lockers, only really headed in to grab his broom and protective gear. He didn’t bother with the team robes they were supposed to wear when they practiced - he didn’t want to draw any spare attention to himself. He didn’t want anyone to catch sight of a solitary snake and decide to take advantage. He was not about to open himself up to an attack like that. The only thing he wanted to open was the chest that contained the school set of balls, but they weren’t in the storage closet. He’d even gone so far as to look in the other teams lockers, but still had no luck. Were things so bad now that the captains were hiding them?

Really, it was pathetic that that was even the direction that his mind took, but he wouldn’t have been completely surprised by it. It was likelier to be entirely unmalicious than it was to be some kind of personal attack, but that didn’t make it feel any less like one. He could have charmed a rock to do the same job, but it was never as effective, nothing was quite like the snitch, and he was never one to really settle. It was this that brought him out onto the pitch itself, broom in hand as he started to search around the base of the stands. He really didn't care what it looked like he might be doing - he wasn't expecting to see anyone out here for at least another couple of hours anyways.

[regvlvs-arctvrvs-blog]

tea & toast

Every time that Regulus thought things couldn’t get any worse, they found a way to surprise him. He really had to stop getting comfortable with whatever the current level of discomfort was, because it was sure to get worse. Now he couldn’t even take his broom out to the pitch to get away from it all for an hour without being harassed. The worst part about it this time was that he had known. He’d known when the plan had been made what it was going to mean for the Slytherins left behind, and there was nothing he could do about it. This was his test. He had to continue to feed information to the outside if he wanted any hope of taking the Mark himself. It didn’t mean it made it any easier. The rest of them had gotten out, and he was left to take the brunt of it.

He wasn’t quite sure what his reputation was before this. He’d like to have thunk that he was regarded as being smart, and a great seeker. He’d been unapproachable before - pureblood royalty - and now? Well now he was met with shoulders and elbows in the hallways when he tried to make it to and from class. He refused to walk with his head down, and that had definitely been seen as some kind of threat.  Did nobody in this building actually have a sense of logic left in them? It was two weeks after the attack on the post office that he’d finally snapped at someone that had called him a Death Eater, and for the first time in his life he’d grabbed the other sixth year by his robes and shoved him up against a wall. “Do you really think that if I had anything to do with that I would still be here? Do you think I’m so daft as to have stayed behind when everybody else left?” The Hufflepuff had moved on with his day. Regulus had resolved not to put himself in that situation again.

It seemed that most of the house was keeping to their quarters outside of class. The group of fourth years that would have studied in the library had withdrawn a stack of books and claimed a corner of the common room, and the girls in his own year - those that had stayed - had taken up camp by one of the windows, watching the sea-life swim past rather than walking the grounds. Regulus, who had joked for years with his roommates that he was going to petition for a private room, had finally gotten his wish, and spent almost all of his time alone. The intelligence he was meant to collect wouldn’t be gathered from students - they were hardly worth his time. If he wanted to truly make an impression it was the staff that he needed to eavesdrop on. His work wouldn’t be accomplished during class, or in the halls in between.

His entire schedule had changed, and while he hadn’t appreciated it, it was simply what needed to be done. He no longer ate or slept when other students did. He was more determined than ever to avoid them as much as possible. He had work to do - he couldn’t spend his days convincing people of his innocence, or alternately watching them all engage in things he would never have. No, he needed to spend every spare minute he could fulfilling the Dark Lord’s wishes, and that meant late nights under false pretenses. It meant abusing the small amount of freedom that his Prefect badge provided him when he was caught out of bed at night, claiming he’d been assigned rounds. He didn’t particularly care if any of the professors checked his schedule with Potter or Evans. He didn’t really care for either of them anyways, and who even knew what they were thinking when they decided that he should be Head Boy? Did their track records at the school count for nothing?

Clearly they didn’t. Track records here clearly meant nothing. It didn’t seem as if anybody was going to do anything to counter the abuse that Slytherins seemed to be facing, and the favouritism frankly, wasn’t surprising. It was pathetic really. He could see it himself in the mirror. It was in the dark circles sinking under his eyes and the slight pallor creeping into his usually tanned skin. It was the way his shoulder sunk when nobody was looking, and the way his stomach growled and cried at him for more food than he was able to keep down. It was the way that his focus had shifted, no longer stealing glances at a relationship he would never be able to have for himself, and instead keeping his head down, his ears open.

It was quite obviously why a boy who had once taken breakfast nearing eight in the morning with everybody else was suddenly up at the crack of dawn, sitting at the head of the Slytherin table with a piece of dry toast and a cup of black tea in front of him, seemingly already ready for the day, hair done and showered, hoping to overhear some of the professors talking at the head table itself while he feigned an interest in his meager breakfast.

[regvlvs-arctvrvs-blog]