DON'T CRY - regulus black

prologue

1977

PROLOGUE; MARRIED BY FORCE
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The corridors of Hogwarts had always been cold, but in the autumn of 1977, they seemed colder than ever, as though the ancient stones sensed the darkness seeping into the world outside. Regulus Black stood near the windows of the Slytherin common room, the flickering firelight casting long, sharp shadows across his pale face. His eyes, grey and haunted, stared out across the lake, his mind elsewhere, burdened by thoughts he could barely acknowledge.

Sixth year. One more year before the world beyond these walls would claim him. One more year before the weight of his name - Black, a name steeped in tradition and bloodlines - would no longer be something he could quietly bear. He had always known what was expected of him. His mother, Walburga, made it clear from the moment he could walk: greatness, obedience, purity of blood. To fail would be to disgrace the family, to taint the legacy. So he did not fail. He did not rebel. Not like his brother, Sirius, who had chosen a different path, a reckless one, a Gryffindor's path. No, Regulus did everything right.

But the cost of right was unbearable.

He felt a shift behind him, a familiar presence. Belle Avery, her stride as confident and controlled as always, stepped into the dim light, her robes trailing elegantly along the stone floor. Her long, golden-like hair hung straight down her back, and her sharp hazel, almost green eyes scanned the room before settling on him.

"Brooding again, Regulus?" Her voice was smooth, almost amused, but there was an edge to it, as there always was. Belle Avery was not one to hide her feelings, least of all from him. There was something in her, something fierce, that unnerved even the most assured Slytherins. Including him.

He turned, forcing a tight smile. "Just thinking."

"Thinking," she echoed, crossing her arms, "isn't that dangerous for someone like you? What would your mother say if she knew?"

Regulus let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow in the echoing chamber. "She'd say what she always says. That thinking too much leads to doubt. And doubt, as you know, is weakness."

Belle regarded him for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Weakness, perhaps. Or self-awareness. But I suppose in our world, it's the same thing."

Regulus said nothing. He had always admired her boldness, though it often left him uncomfortable. Belle Avery was everything a pureblooded witch ought to be - beautiful, powerful, and ruthlessly intelligent. She carried the weight of her name with a different kind of grace, though - a defiance. Where Regulus faltered in the shadows of his obligations, Belle met them head-on, unflinching.

"I saw the Dark Lord today," Belle said after a moment, her voice quieter now, more dangerous.

Regulus stiffened at the name, his eyes darting around the empty common room. The fear that name provoked in him was instinctual. He had heard whispers, seen glances exchanged between the older students. The Dark Lord had always been a looming presence in the background of their lives, a distant figure of unimaginable power. But recently, he had become more than a shadow. He had taken an interest in them - in Regulus Black and Belle Avery.

"What did he want?" Regulus asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Belle's lips twisted into a smile, but there was no warmth in it. "He didn't say much, but I could see it in his eyes. He's watching us, Regulus. We're not just names to him anymore. We're potential."

Regulus swallowed hard. Potential. That word filled him with dread. The Dark Lord had plans, and those plans would swallow them whole. He had seen the way Voldemort looked at him, the way his cold, reptilian eyes pierced through the surface of his thoughts, searching for weakness. Regulus had lowered his gaze immediately, too terrified to meet the Dark Lord's eyes. But Belle - Belle had stared him down.

"I don't know how you can do it," Regulus murmured, shaking his head. "How you can look at him like that. Doesn't it scare you?"

Belle's smile widened, but her eyes darkened. "Of course it scares me. But I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing it. Fear, like doubt, is a weakness. And I don't intend to show him mine."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The fire crackled in the hearth, and the shadows danced along the walls, but the silence between them was heavy, filled with the unspoken weight of what lay ahead. They were both too young to be burdened by the expectations of their families, but in Slytherin - in pureblood society - youth was no excuse. They were pawns, carefully groomed for a world that cared more about bloodlines than souls.

"He's going to bind us together," Belle said suddenly, breaking the silence. Her voice was hard now, edged with cold resignation.

Regulus blinked, turning to her in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"The Dark Lord," she clarified. "I overheard my father talking to the Blacks. There's an agreement. Voldemort wants us married."

Regulus felt his heart drop into his stomach. "Married?"

Belle nodded slowly, her gaze never leaving his. "It's a power play. Black and Avery, two of the oldest pureblood families in England. Together, we'd be a symbol of everything he stands for. He sees us as a tool. A way to solidify his power within our world."

Regulus could barely breathe. He had known his life was not his own, that his future was dictated by blood and name, but marriage? To Belle? It was too much, too soon.

"You don't seem surprised," Belle observed, watching his reaction closely.

Regulus closed his eyes briefly, trying to collect himself. "I'm not. It makes sense, I suppose. My family would do anything to please him. And your father..."

"My father's a coward," Belle said bluntly. "He'd give me away in a second if it meant staying in the Dark Lord's good graces."

Regulus looked at her, really looked at her for the first time in what felt like years. Belle Avery, the girl who had been his rival in every class since their first year, the girl who had always been just out of reach, both in talent and in spirit. They had fought each other academically, with sharp words and sharper glances, but now... now they were to be bound by something neither of them had chosen.

"I don't want this," Regulus whispered, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "I don't want to be his pawn."

Belle's expression softened, just for a moment. She stepped closer, her voice gentler than it had ever been. "Neither do I, Regulus. But we don't have a choice. Not in this. Not in anything."

He looked at her, at the fierce determination in her eyes, and for the first time, he realized they were in this together. Two unwilling pieces in a larger, darker game. They had no choice but to play.

"So," Belle said, her voice low and steady, "if we're to be married, we might as well make the best of it. We've spent six years competing with each other. Maybe it's time we start working together."

Regulus stared at her, feeling the weight of her words settle over him like a cloak. He had never thought of Belle as anything other than his equal and his rival. But now, standing here, with the shadows of their shared fate looming over them, something shifted. Maybe, just maybe, they could find something more than obligation. Something deeper.

He nodded slowly, his throat tight with emotion. "Maybe we can."

And so it began.