Optimism should’ve been saved for those who hadn’t made so many mistakes. A higher power had punished Regulus for his mistakes, for the righteous always fell and he laid here, in the corner of hell where the only people he saw were the ones filtering in and out of the room. Bringing food and delivering news, whatever they wanted to tell him rather than expel truths that, ultimately, maybe he didn’t deserve. He told them of the Horcruxes, a crucial piece to a puzzle he found. Looking into Tom Riddle’s life wasn’t by accident: it was repentance. His sins were dark and stained his life in a way nothing would wash it off, but fixing his mistake was one of many ways he could’ve done something to try and make it better. Make a sad man’s life have meaning. But for all the faces that filtered into the room he was all but shoved into, encouraged to hide in plain sight by Albus Dumbledore. He saw that look of mistrust, something that should’ve been expected. But he’d never seen it from her. That look of sympathy, while other just did what they were told, glaring looks didn’t match Dorcas Meadowes. Regulus didn’t know when he had become enticed to her, how he looked to her when their gatherings presided within the small hovels of his so-called home, but he was there, always looking when he shouldn’t.
He understood the ideals of isolation that the world above ground was dangerous and temperamental and there were people who existed solely to rip his head from his neck. That there was a profound respect for each of them in ways he couldn’t convey. In ways he didn’t know how to convey. They were all willing to lay their lives down and fight for someone who still bore the mark. He almost chuckled when she motioned to not knowing the spells, caught the sound and all but swallowed it back. Sometimes he wondered if it was he proclivity to kindness more than wanting to know him, converse with him. That darkened sense of his mind played those pranks on him, and he allowed it to do so. “What were you doing if not paying attention in class…” He wondered out loud, narrowed eyes for a moment as the ghost of a smirk rose to his lips. “I don’t think I’m going to get it back anytime soon.” He disagreed, shaking his head. “I offered up substantial information, Dorcas…” Her name fell from his lips gently, deserving to only be said in such tones when she’d been just that to him, no matter what.
He wanted to say stop hoping. Crush that hope to a fine powder as his mother had tried and failed to do to his brother. As the predestined notion of the Black name now fell onto Regulus because Sirius sought honesty instead of lying. Regulus had not been as strong willed, not at first. Not when he should’ve been like Sirius, knowing deep down he could’ve been. But… wasn’t. That hope had been pulled from his body like a Dementor’s kiss seeking the sweet relish of a soul. His family did that to him. And while he wondered of some, of Andromeda, her soft will, and Narcissa’s silent tact to be one of his favourite cousins still—Bellatrix stuck in his mind. No wonder he wanted to crush the hopeful look in her eye. “I’m not getting it back, Dorcas.” He repeated, shaking his head. “Not with the way things are.” And it was fine. It had to be fine. He didn’t have another choice but considering fine the only answer. In all the light of mere mention of Sirius might’ve cut Regulus deeper than words could’ve explained, she moved on to how he would look with one, and that natural frown that settled lifted slightly, half-smile replacing the scowl, the frown as he grinned. “One of those thin French ones?” He was trying, lifting that lightness she brought into this dark space into something more. “The two lines—or one of the larger handlebars? My grandfather had one of those—“ He motioned with his hands to make the shape. “I haven’t grown any sort of facial hair in a long time. I’m certain it’d come in patchy and unattractive now.”
Derail her, he thought. Set her on a path that kept her at arm’s length, that sunshine personality and kilowatt smile something to admire, but never touch. Never get too close nor given some privilege to be proud for anything more. He wasn’t worth the mess, nor the headache of her frequent trips. More so than any other order member. He had to wonder what her life was like above ground. No hobbies? Well—there was one, as he noted the painting. No going out, lavish lifestyle? Was it his brain functioning on the Black life, parties and galas, endless means to show off one’s wealth in a way of saying ‘go fuck yourself, I’m richer than you.’ His uncle Cygnus certainly enjoyed that, he recalled. She mentioned the painting, as brows knitted together. “What kind of childhood did you think I had?” He wondered in a snap-like tone, though he didn’t mean it. Anger sprouted more from the lack of affection, calm and warmth. You weren’t only appreciated as a Black when you stayed in line as a Black. But Walburga was never equipped to be a mother. Not to Sirius, and not to him.
‘But you’re my favorite one—‘ “Don’t—“ He turned to her, sharp in his movements as he shook his head. “Don’t get attached to me.” That false hope couldn’t be dangled in front of him. He couldn’t bear the idea that she would walk in and walk out as he’d seen her do countless times from a prison cell of his own making. “Don’t get attached.” It was a warning. To himself, and to her. That if he held onto her, it’d become something detrimental. Something he needed, and he couldn’t need her, he couldn’t hold onto that hope of her staying. He settled, the lack of appetite suddenly hitting him, avoiding looking at her, feeling the pain strike his chest in a painful lurch. Don’t look at her, don’t look at her, don’t look at her… The mantra went off in his head. Finally, Regulus fell into his silence, moving to stand beside her, towering over her frame, as he swallowed the painful lump that had risen to his lips. “How—“ He mumbled softly, gesturing to the blank canvas. “How do we do this?”
light and dark, you can’t have one without the other. dark being the absence of light, while light is unable to hit every square of the world resulting to dark. people are capable of both and even when they fall into the dark, they can always find the light again. that is something dorcas meadowes fully believes and regulus is proof of it. he has proven to the order that he is good and kind and brave. it might not have been through words but his actions were enough for her. after all, didn’t people say that actions spoke stronger than words? voldesnort freaked her out enough as it is, she could have never done what he has done. what order member could say that they have? none of them gave such information like this. none of them so bluntly went against the you-know-creep after being part of his close circle and that was enough to catch her attention. prior to this, he was just known to her as sirius black’s younger brother, someone who is falling in step with the rest of his family’s alliance. not another thought sent in his direction at the time. maybe she should have ---- maybe she could have known him far better. she certainly would like to. dorcas wouldn’t mind knowing everything that made regulus tick, or just everything about him in general.
she wanted to bring this conversation back to something light, something that isn’t going to upset him ---- she really did hate seeing him so .... like this. sad maybe but it’s more than sad. hopeless. no one should ever be hopeless, that’s not a life to live. everyone deserves hope ---- just another thing that she wants him to see, another thing that she will get him to see even if it takes her years. regulus black is not getting rid of her this easily. “ i was doodling a lot or thinking about lunch. i thought about lunch a lot. oh god, i’m thinking about lunch right now. can we please go back to dinner or else all i’m going to want is lunch and lunch and dinner are very different meals. ” even as she said that, her eyes seemed to move away from the groceries and towards her.
when exactly did she seem to follow his steps? the first order meeting perhaps. dorcas could easily tell that few of the others were willing to listen, willing to overlook whatever mistakes were made in the past. this was more important ---- this act of bravery was more than enough for her to want to reach out, to give him a friend. did he ever even have one? no, no. of course he had. that would be ridiculous if she were to be his first friend. still ---- being his friend was already nice. he is more than just his family, that is something that this short time together has made her learn, though she always hoped it to be true. after all, could anyone imagine bellatricky to defy valerie? absolutely not a chance. “ yes. exactly. you offered information, that means something regulus, don’t you see? ” that was brave. if she has to work to convince him of what is so clear to her, than she will. he deserves to see himself in the same light that she does, for he is now part of the heroes in this fairytale. “ if you aren’t going to have faith than i guess i’ll have all the faith for you. i’ll talk to mood moody, he’s actually a big teddy bear deep down but i know he’ll listen to me. people will trust you, i already do. ” or maybe she’ll just shove cake in his face until he agrees, or she’ll vow never to play a trick on him... for a month. week.
her fingers snap as he helped her realize what facial hair she was thinking about, eyes glancing at the half-smile that crossed his lips, a flutter lifting in her stomach at the same time, “ yes! the weird little french thing. why do the french have really good food but really weird fashion? is that why old people say pardon my french sometimes? because they want to apologize for their weird old people clothes? ” dorcas wanted more of that smile, and it didn’t necessary feel the same way as she does when wanting to make her friends laugh through the tears. this felt different ---- and she can’t exactly place why. this wasn’t something she’s felt before, that is what she knows as a fact. watching him form the weird facial hair patterns causing a giggle to escape ---- just picturing him with one of those? probably not as good of an idea as she originally thought. “ hmm, maybe you’re right. you do look pretty good without facial hair as it is. ” the compliment was just meant to be that ---- something kind. so why did even that feel like something more?
oh ---- oh. she said something dumb. how can she take it back immediately? this wasn’t good, she didn’t like this part. the part of him snapping at her ---- the part where she hurt him. even if this was unintentional, she doesn’t want to be on this side of him. the side where he hates her, where he wishes for her to go. that’s what’s going through her mind ---- the worry that she just ruined this visit because of what she said. that he would never want to see her again. “ sorry, ” her voice softer than usual, uncertain. worried. “ you and sirius... you deserve a better childhood. sirius told me bits of things, before... i wasn’t thinking. ” would that help? would that mend the rift that might have just formed? merlin, she hopes it does.
“ too late, ” the words escaped before she could even realize what happened. the words never made it in her mind until she heard her saying it. dor can always say that’s how she is with anyone who gives her positive attention for less than five minutes. she gets attached, she wants to be their friend, she cares about them. it was all the same for regulus and different at the exact same time. dorcas wanted him to look at her ---- to just glance over at her and see that she means those two simple words, even if they weren’t meant to come out. dorcas meadowes was not going anywhere now, no matter what he might say to her. he cannot tell her to get attached, she’s far too gone now. which just left them here. at this moment. and she’s not going anywhere. her eyes look up at him, still hoping he would just glance down. so she knows he’s alright, so he knows that she’s right there. “ we pick our colours and the canvas and just .... paint. it doesn’t matter what, it doesn’t even have to be anything. sometimes the best paintings are the ones that can be looked at in so many different ways, ” her eyes finally move away from him and towards the canvas and back at the groceries in front of her. “ we shouldn’t paint on an empty stomach, and we might need a few drinks first, ” eyes back up at him ---- all hoping this meant she were to stay longer.
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