Black Stag

Rain & Rainbows, Rose Gardens & Thorns

It was raining outside, which seems to be a common occurrence. Regulus prefers the rain when he's dancing; he likes to listen to its serenade on the Hogwarts roof, the steady drum on the windows. Andromeda had told him that if it weren't for the rain, the world would be sick, so he thinks perhaps her fascination with the rain has impacted this idea. During the parts he could accomplish, he would feel as if he could fly, despite the lack of wings. He would feel so free. He would feel like a beautiful mess in these simple moments. However, he would always try to fly higher, despite the lack of wings. His wings were torn from him years ago. So, when he flies higher and finds himself trying even harder, he falls. One quick leap and it would rain liquid glass and he feels it's cold on his skin and, as he pirouettes onwards, he wonders when the rainbows will show up as his feet skid carelessly over the wet floor.

"I can't do it." He slid to the ground beneath him, already feeling the pitfalls of failure weighing over him, readying himself for the dissatisfaction on Lomage's face. He begged his body to dig up the strength to get up and continue from the deep, unreachable parts of him. It's times like this when he feels the stench of failure around him and feels the only way to get rid of it is with one small moment of success, but to get that success he needs to rid himself of the stench, hence an everlasting cycle of failure. His mother calls his brother a failure all the time; it's a constant reminder that he must do better. "I won't ever be able to do it. I'm sorry."

"No." She made a clicking sound with her tongue, folding herself up from the back wall, "No, you can. I have been watching you for a while. If I doubted you could do it you wouldn't be here. Trust me, I don't have time to waste on people, Regulus. "

He looked up through thick eyelashes and could barely scrape up the words, "But I can't."

"Okay, quit then." Her eyes were a union of browns and greens, it depended on the lightning, but right now Regulus had thought he'd seen them turn black. "You do realise the sacrifices you'll have to make for this, Regulus? You want to be Romeo, no? "

"What?" He fiddled with the binding of his shoe. He hadn't thought he'd mentioned it to her yet. He thought she'd laugh in his face if he even brought up the possibility of him becoming Romeo.

"I heard you discussing it with Pandora the other day." Her eyes had transformed to brown again. She clicked her shoes over toward where he'd crawled up into a ball, "Sit upright, you're ruining your posture."

He sat up like a tree, glanced at the chopped-up leaves and branches beside him, and felt the vines tighten around his chest. There were no flowers near his tree.

"Well, it was just a silly little thing I'd hoped for, I don't actually think I could get it." He forced a laugh.

She kneeled down beside him and placed a hand on his lower back, "Stop whimpering like a child and you may."

He sniffed and nodded, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to--"

"Shh." She stood up and brushed her hands, "We will have to warm up again. Your body temperature has probably already dropped with all this wasted time. We don't want my favourite dancer to tear his ankle, do we?"

He smiled with his eyes, his lips remaining still. All the times he'd felt underappreciated ran through his head, and that simple comment had seemed to remove all the harm they'd ever done, at least temporarily.

He twisted his limbs around the cooled room, leaving the fairy's footprints. He wiped his tears through the storm, floating pixies taking over his vision. Formations of hundreds of tiny steps and intricate movements, jumps, twirls. He felt his body seizing as he defied the gravity inside the room. He pirouettes his way through the rose garden, taking in the perfume of the flowers, touching the soft folds of the petals until his head is no longer dizzy and he can no longer feel the prick of the thorns.