"What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?"
-
James Potter
A loud, bubbly, arrogant Gryffindor with a hero complex.
Regulus Black
A quiet, mean, sarcastic Slytherin who James Potter just can't take his eyes off.
That hero complex could get Jam...
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"Merlin Potter, I'm going!"
TW: Panic attacks, mentions of past abuse.
─── ・ 。゚☆ *.☽ .* ☆゚. ───
Dear Regulus,
We would formally like to inform you that we will need you back at Grimmauld Place during the upcoming Christmas holidays.
Your father and I have decided it's time for you to step up your job as the heir of the Noble and most Ancient house of Black, I'm sure you know what we mean, with the upcoming events that are predicted for the near future.
Your cousin Bellatrix will be picking you up, I don't want any excuses.
We shall see you soon.
Tojours Pur,
Mother.
-
Regulus dropped the letter to his knee, his eyes frozen stone cold, his hands shaking like the trembling walls in his eyes, blocking the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. The letter sat under his nose, taunting him, haunting him. The words speaking and spiralling through his mind. Tojours Pur...
Tojours Pur.
Tojours Pur-
See you soon.
He stared downwards, black liquorice curls dangling in front of his darkened grey eyes, his dark thick eyelashes sticking together with fresh salty tears filling up the waterline of his eyes.
She kept the letter short, of course she did. It really does reflect the way she feels towards her youngest child, a short letter explaining that he's getting sent off to kill, to die, in a mere few sentences.
Obviously he knows what's going on in the outside wizarding world, he knows far more than the average sixteen year old should, he's aware of that. He wants so beg, he wants to plead and cry for just a normal life, send him away for all he cares, let him live with Dorcas' lovely family, they'll accept him, they'll help him. But no, he's stuck, he's stuck right where he came into this horribly unfair world, a dark house filled with cruel words and sad tears and hurt hands.
He's sixteen years old for fucks sake, let him have a life, don't volunteer him like a big for slaughter at the first chance available. All he wants to do is say that to them, knock some sense into their manipulated, twisted, blackened brains but even he knows it's too late for that, it's too late for him.
