The Storm | Regulus Black

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As simple of a thing as a decent parental figure within the bubble that Agatha lived in was hard to find. There was no such thing as a great mother or father. Why? Tradition, isolation, ignorance. Since the purebloods very rarely acquainted themselves with anyone who wasn't pure, they thought the new societal norms were ridiculous, and that was putting it lightly. Because of the ancient societal regime that they so religiously followed, kids consequently followed their parents' footsteps and saw them as role models. That was also the case when it came to leaders. Lord Voldemort had quickly become a leader to the inner circle, at least those naive enough to be brainwashed. Agatha had, for some reason unbeknownst her, begun speculating how perfect the world she lived in really was. She was sceptic about the views and opinions her parents had branded into the realms of her brain. Was being a housewife, an otiose character in history really what she was made for? Was it truly what she wanted? Her unwavering desire to always be the perfect daughter, student, woman, was it all for nothing?

Agatha had climbed her way up to the rooftop of the manor, and lay there, staring at the stars. She didn't know how long she had been up there, and she honestly didn't care. It wasn't very comfortable either, as her back rested against the gabled roof. It pressed into her spine painfully, but she couldn't be bothered to move. The late August wind blew past the silk of her nightgown and occasionally caused a shiver to run down her spine. Perhaps pulling on some wool socks would have been smart. Perhaps staying inside in the first place would have been smart. But no, there she lay—barefoot, cold and lazy.

She hadn't seen her friends in longer than she was accustomed to. Herbert and Primrose were the only living beings she had spoken to apart from Koble. Being stuck with her own thoughts for nearly two weeks was unhealthy, and she quickly learned that the first time she had spoken to her walls was not her last. She had concluded, as a fact, that she had completely lost the plot. Insane, clinically. Well, no. That was a bit over dramatic. Then again, this summer had proven to her what everyone had been telling her for her whole life, not everything went as she wanted it to. And she hated it.

Marriages, as in any other situation, united families. In the wizarding world however, in Agatha's world to be more specific, it meant so much more. The fact that her own parents had sold her off to another family did not sit right with her. She had always known that it was bound to happen, and that was just 'how it was.' She had always known that the young girls in the better families were merely participants in business deals. She had always known that, at the end of the day, she was nothing more than an object to be sold off at an auction to the highest bidder. Although, now that it had happened, she didn't feel as okay with it as she had initially thought. She wondered if Regulus knew how much their engagement in itself was worth. She had eventually shoved the fact that she would only ever be known as Regulus Black's wife to the back of her mind. She didn't enjoy thinking about it much.

Therefore, at that moment on the roof, she thought about other things. Perhaps even more depressing if one decided to analyse it. She thought about what it would be like to lounge in a sitting room with a normal family. Where smiles were genuine and conversation flowed naturally. A fantasy which Agatha didn't dare indulge in for too long. Her mind wandered off to the Potters. Had Sirius truly been petty, or had he been smart? His decision was radical, but he seemed happy where he was—with a good family where the smiles most definitely were genuine, and the conversation surely flowed naturally. What if Agatha ran away, too? Her whole world view would probably change instantly, she knew that she was living in a bubble, but she was too scared to step out of it. However, the fact that the other side was so close was tempting, she could almost grasp it if she reached far enough.

Agatha sat up. She'd delved too far into the risky realm of her brilliant mind, and decided to go to bed. She had school tomorrow, after all.

It was peculiar, that Agatha wasn't at all sentimental nor phased about walking into her last year at Hogwarts. The years had flown by like the summer—too quickly, so had the childhood that she would long for. Not that she hadn't met her friends when she was a toddler, but she had grown up with them at school. The realisation that she wouldn't see them everyday made her feel downcast, although oddly relieved. She would be on her own. No Primrose to tighten her corset, no Herbert to judgementally look over her shoulder at everything she did.