“What did you just call me?” Clara snapped to attention, unable to stop herself from laughing slightly at the boy’s indignation. She wasn’t the most coordinated, per se, but she couldn’t exactly recall the last time someone spoke to her in such a rude manner. Truthfully, she’d thought until now that people like that only existed in the deepest bowels of pureblood/Slytherin society (if you could call it ‘society,’ Clara had always thought scum was a more fitting term) — but then, she realized who she was looking at. She recognized Regulus from her time at Hogwarts, although he’d been a few years younger than her and she’d never thought much to concern herself with him. But she knew he’d been a Slytherin, and that he was a member of the notorious Black family.
“I’m sorry, but were you raised by apes or something? Who on earth taught you how to talk to people? Has anyone taught you? Merlin, you poor thing.”
Regulus glanced down to the stain on his sweater with pursed lips. Fuck. After a sigh, he looked back up, slightly recognizing the witch’s face. He had seen her when he was fresh meat at Hogwarts, but he couldn’t think of a time he had actually spoken to her. Honestly, he forgot she existed. “I’ve been taught enough to know to watch where I’m going,” he muttered, though he knew he had been the one not paying attention to begin with. But, it was easier to blame someone else than live up to his own mistake.
“Sorry,” he continued, but the sincerity of it was half-assed. He pulled out his wand and tapped the stain, and he watched as it slowly disappeared. “But, don’t treat me like that. You don’t have the right to mock me like I’m a child.”
If he was entirely honest, being a bartender wasn’t his dream job. Really, who woke up one morning, thinking ‘I want to be a bartender when I grow up!’ Keegan certainly didn’t, but it was the only job he could think of doing for now. Anything else, he’d just feel like he’d be doing it for his parents, and he was getting tired of that. In any case, it was his job now, and he was trying his best at it. Just like now, sticking a kinda fake smile before looking at the person that just sat at the counter. “So, what can I get ya tonight?”
Regulus had told his parents that he was going to meet up with friends, and though that was relatively true, he did lie about what exactly they were doing. He had arrived early, as per usual, and hid himself in the darkest corner in the back of the bar top, his eyes at the door in case they began to flood in. Them or someone else that knew him and would rat him out to his parents. He was brought from his train of thought at the sound of a voice, and he turned to the bartender, recognizing the man’s face immediately. He lowered his eyes with a bored, yet defeated frown. “Anything that’s strong, I guess. I’m not picky. Bad night for you too?”
Regulus grabbed his ice-cream (a Fortescue concoction created to warm the person’s insides to fight the bitterness of the November air) and meandered back into the alley, stopping only a few paces to lean against the cool brick of the neighboring building. His mother had believed it would be beneficial for the young Black to be seen, but no one even batted an eye in his direction. Not that he cared. He didn’t want to be in this bloody place to begin with.
With one quick glance at his mother, who was entering a shop alongside Kreacher, he darted from his position, and when he felt he was far enough away, he peered over his shoulder, only to slam into a body. His ice-cream fell to the pavement and slightly smeared onto his white jumper. He rounded with a sneer and through gritted teeth, he said, “watch where you’re going, you stupid git.”
Regulus shifted in his seat. It was strange when he had the place to himself, save for the house elves that roamed the hallways. His mother and father had went off to family allies, though Regulus was not so sure what business they had with them. The pair never traveled together unless they had something to settle.
The house was unbearably quiet. Every now and then, he would hear a snap when one of the house elves used their magic to tidy up the place, but otherwise there was nothing. So much so, that when he heard a knock at the front door, he jumped and nervously pulled down his sleeves to hide the dark mark on his forearm. He turned to the house elf nearest him, who was sulking in corner and presumably there to keep an eye on the boy Black. “Kreacher, get the door.”
The bony, ugly house elf snarled briefly and then did as he was told. Upon his return, the elf introduced him with Dominic, and Regulus stood immediately out of respect. “Good evening. I’m a bit surprised you would come to visit.”
Regulus crossed the parlour room and pushed Kreacher out into the hallway, giving him a sharp warning look should the elf decide to snoop before slamming it in the elf’s face. “Come. Take a seat.”
bubble bubble toil and trouble / i heard rumors that [ regulus black ] is a [ death eaters ] ! [ he ] is [ cis male ] and eighteen years old ! they are often mistaken for [ nick robinson ] and known to be [ loyal and snarky ] ! i wonder if they’ll survive the war.
Regulus was not supposed to be the Black heir, but just a few years ago, he was thrust upon the proverbial throne due to his brother’s traitorous ways. Somehow, even when he was young and otherwise slow, he knew that eventually he would have to become the heir that his parents wanted, and even they seemed to know this too. He grew up a shy child with a lot of hope, and despite the nasty things he would hear people say about his older brother or his family in general, he followed them blindly with curious doe eyes.
At Hogwarts, he didn’t stand out. There were much bigger and more confident purebloods in the Slytherin common room, and at first, he tried to show that he was worth the alliance, but most would laugh. He was the scrawny little product of years of purity breeding with purity, and even a surname as notorious as his wasn’t enough to earn respect. At home, he felt the same kind of neglect. His mother and father never kissed or hardly ever looked at each other. It took Regulus a long time to realize that the Black children only existed due to necessity, not for love.
The only comfort he had found in his otherwise, what he coined, a meaningless existed was with Sirius. He followed him everywhere. He respected him, and though Regulus never knew anything of love, he could suspect that what he felt for him was brotherly love. So, when Sirius excommunicated from the family, and he was brought into the foyer for his mother to show the other children a lesson should they too reject their family name, he no longer felt that love. He became a hollow shell of himself: a once creative, artistic young boy who lost all hope.
headcanons:
Regulus is very artistic. He can draw, sing, and sculpt.
Ever since Sirius left, Regulus was burdened with rebuilding the shame, and he absolutely hates his brother for it.
He joined the Death Eaters before he graduated Hogwarts; though he still feels like he is disrespected and viewed as just a pawn, he does his best to fight for his family and what he believes in.
At home, he is very mild-mannered. He hardly speaks, keeps his eyes down, and walks as softly as possible. His parents never laid hands on him, but he is terrified of his father, more than he is of his mother. Outside of the Black house, he unleashes all his pent up aggression with fighting, drinking, smoking, and otherwise causing other mischief. It’s not uncommon for him to throw a punch for no reason.
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.
RAB
i haven’t post in a while, so here is a little Regulus Black.
the bravest Slytherin i ever known
tangentwithtanner
theartofmadeline
blakekathryn
yousharknotpass
gummygunk
gracieabrams
2087
romaincrisis
gamechangershow
