The Mirror of Your Mother
Overview: Pre-trans Reg struggling w/ his identity
Tags: emotional angst, hurt/comfort(ish), mention of Sirius, Black Brother angst, teeeny bit of humor, implied seer Pandora, a TEEEEENY bit of rosewater if you squint, hopeful ending,
CW: mental health issues, implied panic attack, emotional abuse
A/N: it's my first time writing a fanfic (also my 1st time posting) so pls be kind! I'm open to criticism. I tried my best to write the perspective of a trans kid (i am also trans-masc so i lowkey went based on that) but pls lmk if there's anything you think is inaccurate!
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Regulus wished he knew who he was as a babyâwhat he looked like, at the very least. The Black family didnât keep family photos, except for portraits, and even those were only for the dead relatives or the traditional family portrait when the youngest had passed the age of 12. Regulus had come of age, the week before, which meant the family portrait was soon to come. He tried not to think too much about the odd empty space there would be when heâd see it, without Sirius there. He didnât want a family portrait. It was hard enough looking into the mirror and staring back at⌠her. He remembers from the moment he was old enough to retain memories; guests pulling away from their pretentious wealthy groups during his familyâs pretentious parties to come over and preen at Regulus and compliment Walburga. âShe looks just like you!â
Regulus grew up in her shadow. Under her expectations of what it means to be a proper lady. Walk like a lady, talk like a ladyâ
Stand like a lady. âDonât slouch!â Walburga enunciated the forced whisper with a jab of a gaunt finger between Regulusâ shoulder blades. He jumped, straightening his shoulders automatically, like muscle memory, his forced pleasant expression wavering slightly. âAnd dip your chin,â she snarked. âYou arenât a lord. You are a lady.â She put a hand on his shoulder, her fingers digging the itchy fabric of the dress into his skin. âAct like it.â
âYes, mother,â he let out, insincerely meek. Regulus hated these parties the most. When no outsiders were at home, he could at least hide himself in his room and find peace in his books. Although, with the pretty princess decorations, even his room didnât feel his own. But heâd learned from a young age that his opinions didnât matter here, what mattered is how he was meant to act. And he was a girl. He was meant to like the hideous floral wallpaper decorated across his room. But that didnât mean he did. Sometimes, for a brief moment, when he sat in his room, alone, despite all the stuffed animals surrounding his bed, he understood why Sirius left. Before the anger at his betrayal engulfed him again.
âShe looks more and more like you every time I visit, dear!â Regulus fought back a wince at the shrill voice of the older Lady Rosier. He risked a glance up from the continuous staring at his short heels to meet the eyes of Evan Rosier, who had a scowl on his face, seeming much more careless at expressing his displeasure at his forced presence. Lady Rosier mirrored Walburga, and placed a hand on Evanâs shoulder as well. She, too, was digging her fingers into his shoulder. With a hard press of his mouth, he begrudgingly straightened his slumped form to look back at Regulus. Regulus bit his tongue from speaking up first, his mothers voice filling his head. Ladies do not speak first. Wait for the men to address you. But Evan didnât seem inclined to start a conversation, raising an eyebrow in challenge at Regulusâ silence. He knew of all these rules, he had a sister, after all. Regulus glanced up at the thought of her, almost jumping out of his skin when he spotted a head of curly white hair behind Evan. Hair that was too long and fluffy to be his.
âHello, Regulus.â She spoke pleasantly, like a wind chime drifting back and forth in the wind. A stitch appeared between his brows, but before he could correct her, her mother spoke up with indignation.
âPandora! Her name is Regula.â She turned towards Walburga, apologies falling from her lips like candies given to children on Hallows Eve. âMy deepest apologies, Walburga. She is⌠so sorry. Arenât you, dear?â Her mother gave a pointed look over her shoulder to the young girl, who was gazing intently at Regulus. The person in question started to feel his cheeks heat up at the attention, finally lifting his head properly to make eye contact with the relentless pursuer, just to see Evan boring holes into Walburga.
âMy apologies, Mrs. Black,â she spoke in the same voice as before, refusing to spare even a mere glance at who she was speaking to, who stiffened at the dismissive attitude. Before Walburga could lay out any threat, the clear of a throat brought everyoneâs attention up. Regulusâ father was standing stiffly over his motherâs shoulder, a stern expression on his face. He extended his palm forward towards Walburga.
âHello, Dear.â Walburga turned her head in his way, placing her hand in his, as he raised it to his lips to place a chaste kiss to the back of it. He kept his eyes on her the entire time, as she lowered hers in bashfulness, putting on a great show of looking besotted with one another. Regulus fought back a grimace. He knew this was all for show. When they were alone, his parents slept on their individual sides of the bed, and awoke on it, too. They didnât share any physical affection, aside from the occasional touch on the shoulder, but it was as affectionate for them as it was for Regulus. Orion inclined his head towards Lady Rosier, speaking almost pleasantly, âLadies. Please, follow me. We have a lot to discuss.â
Lady Rosier looked between them with mild bemusement, before shaping her face more pleasantly as she nodded. âOf course.â Regulus knew she would be gossiping about this with the other ladies, afterwards. All three adults pulled away from their children, the mothers giving them warning looks to behave. The Rosier twins were known troublemakers. Evan had a rebellious streak since the moment he was born, preferring to do things the way he wanted to, if he wanted to. As a boy, he could still get away with it, as long as it was within the confines of the strong held pureblood expectations. Pandora, on the other hand, was much more unpredictable. Even more so than Sirius had been, Regulus would argue. You'd never know what she was thinkingâŚ. Or where she was.
âI like your hair.â Her voice weaved through Regulusâ thoughts, breaking the webbed pattern. It would have been soothing, if she hadn't crept up on him from behind. With his parents gone, he finally did jump out of skin.
âSalzara'sâDora!â Regulus hissed in a whisper, at least a metre away from where he was standing a mere moment ago. He held a hand to his chest, taking a small step back, only to bump into Evan, who gave him a small shove with an amused smirk on his face, broken by a lollipop that heâd somehow acquired out of thin air. How? Regulus had no idea. He turned back to Pandora, who had beheaded a couple flowers from a nearby vase to charm into⌠âwas that a pin? Regulus shuffled on his feet, his dress swaying from the nervous movements. âUhm, thank you.â
The short hair was a last minute change to his appearance, but he'd been able to convince his stubborn old grandmother with the promise of wearing her chosen dresses at the next three Christmas parties to convince his parents that it suited him better. His mother had protested, obviously, but his father listened to his grandmother's every whim. It wasn't very short, just by his shoulders, but it was something. Progress, he thought. In feeling more like himself, even if he didnât fully know what he felt, or what his end goal was. While the long and white-haired girl remained preoccupied with the flowers, her brother took it upon himself to examine the haircut. His fingers brushed the edge of Regulusâ shoulder as he twirled a strand of his hair between his fingers. He tsked, letting go of it to step away and leaned back against the refreshment table beside Pandora, Regulusâ eyes tracking his movements.
âShould've gone shorter.â Evan mumbled it casually, but his eyes spoke of a different intensity. Regulusâ eyes darted away as Pandora finished fiddling with the charmed flower and stepped forward to stick it to his dress. She placed it a few inches below the collarbone, where a pocket might've been in a dress shirt. Regulus frowned down at the placement, but gave her a small smile.
âThank you, Dora,â he said with a stunted pause. As if noticing his hesitation, Pandora silently put a strand of hair behind Regulusâ ear, smiling wistfully. âYour welcome, Regulus.â
Regulusâ shoulders heaved with the effort of trying to keep his sobs in, a sweaty hand clamped over his mouth. He stood bent over the bathroom sink for an unknown amount of time, the numbers on the clock just outside his room ticking slowly, like time was a slow pour of caramel.
Heâd been stuck here long enough that his back was aching, his other hand held the kitchen scissors, small chunks of fine hair still stuck between the blades. It cramped, causing him to drop the scissors into the sink with a sharp clatter. Regulus sucked in a sharp breath, his throat closing up at the motionâhe really hoped nobody had heard, but he was old enough to know now that even if they had, they wouldnât care. Kreacher was the only one in this bloody house that cared about him enough to investigate.
Sirius did, too. A time ago. Regulus raised his head in spite at the thought, his eyes burning with tears and anger towards the mirror. Do I look like you, now? He didnât want to. He loathed the idea of being anything remotely like his brother, callous and cruel enough to abandon his own sibling. Regulus had begged him that night to stay. Tried to convince him that they could do itâtogether. But Sirius had always been a hot head. His anger towards their mother overpowered any love heâd had for his sibling. Regulus would say he'd never forgive him for that, but he knew it'd be a lie. Heâd never forgive himself if he turned out to look like him. Shifting from the mirror of one heartless relative, to another. He couldâve scoffed at the audacity.
Regulus took a steadying breath, his eyes closing as a sharp feeling of panic pierced his chest. He swallowed back a lump in his throat, forcing himself to raise his hands and wipe his tears awayâclear his vision. The tension in the silent bathroom was thick, time somehow moving too slow and slipping away too quickly at the same time, like sand passing between fingers. He rubbed his eyes raw, opening them to squint at himself in the mirror, eyes burning from the tears.
He looked straight through himself. His eyes were⌠red-rimmed, wide, and wild, like a caged animal finally finding it's way out. His lips parted, squeezing a breath in through his mouth, only for it to run dry when his eyes fell on his hair.
The edges were raw, jagged, and completely all over the place. He could finally see what was on the inside reflected out. He lifted a hand, which he hadnât realized was shaking the entire time, to touch the edges of it. It felt coarseâit felt like freedom. The front of his hair fell between his brows, tickling his eyelashes. Heâd never had hair so short. Mother had never let him. The realization settled like a rock in his stomach. His eyes roamed over every part of him that looked so distinctly differentâhe let himself. Just like Sirius had let himself leave. A jagged edge of a knife felt like itâd pierced his heart. For a fragment of a moment, he understood.
He let himself feel that painâlet himself share the pain of two siblingsâtwo brothers. Regulus pressed his wobbling lips to stop himself from letting out another sob and looked down at the sink, filled with chunks of his hair, little pieces everywhere. He knew that if he went now, Sirius would accept him. Sirius would understand. He always had. He sniffled, raising his head to look at himself properly. For the first time in his life, Regulus looked in the mirror and didnât loath who looked back.
