Chapter Text
PROLOGUE
When Regulus Black was eight he had realised that the Imperius curse didn't inflict any pain on one's body.
When he was nine he had realised that the Cruciatus curse was the most painful thing he had ever felt.
When he was ten he had realised that he was wrong, the Cruciatus curse wasn't the most painful thing. Sirius going to Hogwarts and leaving Regulus alone at home was way more painful.
When he was eleven he had realised that he would never have the same relationship he once had with his brother ever again. Regulus Black was sorted into Slytherin after all.
When he was twelve, he stopped. He just stopped — feeling, that is. He started hiding all of his demons inside his brain. He stopped showing any emotions to the world. He stopped smiling. Stopped laughing. Stopped crying. Because no matter what he did the pain was not going to go away, it was better for him to stop. So he did that.
At thirteen, Regulus even stopped taking his brother's side whenever their parents would start arguing with him. Regulus always knew that Sirius was different from everyone else. Sirius didn't bend to their parents's wishes like him or any of his other cousins did. Sirius always had the guts to argue right back, he had the heart of a lion, the strength of one. Sirius Black was a Griffindor for a reason.
At fourteen, Regulus poured everything he had in himself in his studies and quidditch. He had been good at both of those things since forever but when earlier it was a requirement, now it had become a necessity. It was lovely how all of his worries disappeared whenever he was inside the potion's classroom, hovering over his cauldron. The bubbling of the liquids were music to his ears and nothing satisfied him more than a well made vial of potion. Nothing was more exciting than focusing on the golden snitch while everyone in the air worried about the bludgers and the goals. Life was peaceful for Regulus when all of his attention was fixated on a single point. Even if James Potter was starting to become a distraction.
And at fifteen, whatever Regulus was starting to feel for James turned into utter disgust and hate. Sirius had run away, leaving behind an already broken home, already broken parents and an already broken Regulus. Only the broken bits inside Regulus were now starting to sharpen around the edges, turning into something completely unfixable. He still sometimes caught himself catching glances at the Gryffindor Captain. It wasn't his fault if James Potter was so shiny. Even if he had never talked to James other than the one time Sirius had introduced them on the train for the first time, Regulus knew that James was someone who would protect anyone and everyone without a reason. James Potter was the remedy to all the pain Regulus had ever felt. Sometimes he even wondered, what it would have been like if he would have run away with Sirius to the Potter's. Would James put his arms around Regulus, the same way he did with Sirius? Would he whisper secrets and make plans with him for their next prank? Would he smile at him the same, loving and carefree way? Would he protect him from the darkness that was slowly eating Regulus up— bit by bit...?
Probably not, that's what Regulus thought. James Potter was a nightmare, isn't that what one would call a forbidden dream? Something so good and yet impossible that there was no point in thinking about it in the first place?
Fifteen year old Regulus Black was at peace with himself being everything his brother loathed. He sometimes found Sirius staring at him from across the dining hall, eyes full of hate and disgust, fixed on Regulus as if he could make him disappear if he stared a bit harder. Sirius was an idiot who had a choice and he had taken it, leaving Regulus with no choices of his own. Regulus who was always seen as a spare part to the family suddenly became their only hope, their engine of sorts. 'Heir Black', that's how some of his junior housemates addressed him. As if calling him that will make their lives easier.
So Regulus played the part with pride. Because he didn't have any other choice. Because he wasn't Sirius. He walked the halls with his back straight and robes fluttering behind him as if he owned the place, but the funny bit was that others made way for him in return, acknowledging the fact that Regulus was indeed, somehow, superior to them. He never paid any attention to anyone that wasn't worth his time, never answered or spoke back to anyone who wasn't worth talking back to. And automatically Regulus became someone important. He became the perfect Heir to the House of Black and a perfect little Slytherin.
But there was something about Regulus Black that no one knew apart from those in his trusted circle, which included four of his best friends and two of his cousins, that Regulus was absolutely not who he seemed to be. He wasn't on the so-called Dark side that would eventually follow the Dark Lord and he wasn't on the side where his brother stood with his friends along with Dumbledore, claiming to be the beacon of hope. Regulus Black knew how games were played, chess was his strong suit after all and he was the queen on the board, much stronger than the king himself.