Carve Me Open / r.l. + s.b. /

Animagi

"you said you were untraceable tonight.you left your footprints in the moonlighthow sloppy is that?"-via Maria Cameron

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Hogwarts, October 1975

"I don't need you coddling me, Sirius," Regulus swore beneath his breath, pulling his bag close to his chest and hurrying towards the dungeons.

His elder brother stalked close behind him, same haughty expression his mother wore when something wasn't going as planned. Same scolding tone whenever Regulus wanted to do something for himself. Same finicky attitude when he brushed them aside. Regulus wondered if either one of them would ever open their eyes long enough to realize how painfully similar they were to one another. He wouldn't dare utter that thought aloud around either one of them, no matter how obvious it had been to everyone else.

"I'm not coddling you," Sirius whined, pulling Regulus to a grinding halt. "I just don't think you need to be having study sessions with Snivellus."

Regulus scowled, "I can make my own friends without you bossing me around like mother."

His brother looked quite affronted yet particularly smug when Regulus didn't correct Sirius's historic nickname.

Truth be told, Regulus hadn't been on his way to study with Severus. He and Snape hadn't spoken to one another since the school year started. In fact, he had gone out of his way to ensure that fact. The rift from their previous interaction still ran deep, apparently. If Severus wasn't willing to put the facts in front of his nose, Regulus wanted nothing to do with him.

Lily Evans was a snot-nosed mud-blood, nothing more and nothing less. Severus's infatuation with her was beyond Regulus's comprehension, and he wasn't inclined to look deeper into it. A voice eerily familiar to him reminded him that she didn't deserve his precious braincells, but something in him begged for an explanation.

It had to have been based solely on beauty, as she was quite dazzling even for a mud-blood. But she was also cheeky, touchy, and far too stubborn for her own good. She partook in that insufferable prank war with Sirius's neanderthals; his Mother would tell him she was the furthest thing from a proper young lady. No respectable woman would associate with such riff raff as James Potter. But, then again, she was just his type.

Voicing such opinions to Severus seemed to have struck a nerve; a tightly wound and irritated nerve. To say things, truthful things, at least truthful to the average pure blood, was like driving a knife through Severus's heart. He would not speak to Regulus, not even when he'd made attempts to repair their already distant friendship with letters and inquiries.

This rift did not bother Regulus so much that he missed Severus. They had never been particularly close despite Severus saying otherwise. Anyone with a brain could have worked out he only said those things to Sirius to get under his skin; apparently his own brother lacked a brain.

Perhaps he had been better sorted into Gryffindor after all.

In a way, Severus had been a mentor of sorts. He tutored him, taught him the layout of the castle, lent him old books despite Regulus being very capable of buying his own, and, on the off chance he hadn't been with Lily, they'd occasionally take lunch together. Their "friendship" didn't exactly extend past that surface, and neither one of them seemed inclined to do anything about that. Regulus would do just fine without him; if he wanted to have a lovesick puppy dog as a mentor he would've gladly taken James Potter. At least he knows what he's doing in Defense.

"I'm not bossing you around," Sirius challenged, knitting his brows together tightly. Regulus seemed to have nudged a touchy area. "I'm only trying to help you."