Regulus Black x fem!reader
Growing up beside Regulus Black meant becoming his best friend. And falling in love with him. But things fell apart when your brother died. So you fled the country. And he watches you leave, back then, and even now.
CW! Mentions of abuse, death, blood, gore, lots of pining, allusions to sex, and a lot of angst, sad-ish ending. Reader's parents killed her brother.
Let me know if I missed anything! Based on the Taylor Swift song.
I did intend for this to be released around Christmas, but I have no patience. Ending is a little rushed. Let me know if there are any errors.
The house was stale and cold.
The pale blue wallpaper was dotted in dust and peeling glue. The years old cleaning spells have left a bleach-ey scent in the hall. If you close your eyes, you can see blood seeping through them. Remember your brother’s limp figure in the kitchen.
Your suitcase clattered to the floor. You felt like your lungs were stuffed with cotton.
Merlin, you were going to puke.
You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want this house. After your parents were carried off to Azkaban, all the inheritance went to your sister-in-law. You didn’t mind, she was a nice woman, and she’d need it for the children. She got everything except this damn house. This might be some sort of penance. Or the last cruel joke your mother played on you.
You scrambled out of the house, away from the bleach and images of gore.
The street was covered with sludge, and it wet your boots. But at least you could breathe now.
You fumbled for a cigarette from your coat pocket. The nicotine rushed down your throat, relief flooding the rest of your body. It was warm, grounding. The smoke replaced the metal of blood.
“Still have that habit, I see.”
You jumped almost a foot into the air, cigarette slipping from your cold fingers. You cursed before turning around.
“Regulus?” You asked, incredulously. He looked the same as he always had, except a little taller. His curls were unrulier, but that face was still as though chiselled out of marble. Like a Greek god had descended before you.
Butterflies–that had been dormant for years–returned to your stomach.
“I didn’t think you’d still be here,” You said, “I thought you worked at the Ministry.”
Everyone did. What would the incredible Regulus Black do, but not follow in his father’s footsteps?
“I did, for a while. I just take care of the household affairs now.” He replied, cracking a smile. It felt as though the clouds above had parted, letting through the brightest ray of sun, “Have enough money to last seven generations.”
Your own parents hadn’t been the greatest people. That should be evident from your brother’s death. But Walburga and Orion were twenty times worse. You remember the late nights at Hogwarts, where you and Regulus would dream. Dream of a future where you could break through those shackles. A future where you could be anyone you wanted.
Regulus sucked in a long breath, tucking his hands into his pockets. His smile turned bitter, “Father kicked the bucket fairly soon after you left. Mother lives with her sister now. Guess we won, huh?”
You didn’t think you’d won. Life was hard, for anyone. Some days, you could barely scrape together, past the anxiety and the money. Other days the deepest sense of longing for your people overcame you. For your friends. For your brother. But most of all, for Regulus.
But you couldn’t say any of that.
You wanted to ask how he died. But you wondered if that would be too much of an intrusion.
Instead, you let your gaze drift to 12 Grimmauld Place. It was still dark and tall, gloomy as ever. Except for the box of flowers growing on the porch. Your head tilted at the pink, yellow and blue, stark against the blackness.
Regulus followed your gaze, his mood shifting for a third time, “Pandora helped me grow them.”
“Pandora-” You haven’t seen her in three years either. Your chest ached, you missed her, “-How is she?”
“She got married to Xeno last summer,” He said, and shock slammed into your chest, “She’s going to give birth in a couple months.”
You missed your best-friend’s wedding. Guilt racked your being, and you averted your gaze from the flowers. Regulus’ head tilted this time. But maybe he’d considered it an intrusion, so he didn’t ask.
“Do you want to come inside?” You said, trying to break the thick silence, “I could make us something hot.”
“Oh, I could get Kreacher to do it-”
“No, it’s okay, don’t bother him.” You were surprised Regulus had still kept house elves at all, “I learnt a great way to make coffee in Los Angeles.”
“Los Angeles!” Regulus sounded shocked, following you into the oppressive house, “You went to the States?”
“I live in the States,” You replied.
He made some sort of sound. Something between disbelief and upset. You force yourself not to get stuck on it. Neither of you had ever thought beyond Hogwarts and London. Now look at you.
You lit the fireplace with a swish of your wand. It removed some of the thick memories, but you still felt your throat clogging. You wondered if you could whisk off the smells with some spell.
“Why are you here, then?” Regulus was two steps ahead, muttering under his breath to clear up the house. You noticed he’d wheeled in the suitcase too.
An overwhelming sense of gratitude washed over you.
“I’ve been holding off on coming,” You replied, voice shaky, “After what happened, I just couldn't-"
You squeezed your eyes shut. You feel bile raising once more. Anytime you even remotely try to think about it, your brother’s screams come rushing back. Like it was happening all over again. Like your father was still screaming in this same kitchen, wand pulled.
“I understand.” Regulus’ voice was soft. He stood beside you now, expression so soft, you felt like crying.
“I’m only here for Christmas anyway,” You said, forcing a casual laugh. You let silence lapse over the two of you while you started on the coffee. The quiet noise of a spoon against glass filled the kitchen. It grounded you, away from the butterflies, away from the…other memories. You pointedly avoided the dark spot on the carpet.
“How are the others?” You asked, setting a cup in front of Regulus before settling into a seat.
“Evan still comes to visit, pretty often,” Regulus began, sitting in front of you, “But…Barty…”
You remember that. You remember the boy being hauled to prison by his father. It made your stomach roiled. Merlin, was anyone winning?
“Evan’s gotten into litigation, he’s trying to get him out,” Regulus continued, a silent fury settling in his voice. The kind that ate you from the inside out, “It’s disgusting that they won’t listen to him. I’ve been going to the hearings recently, Azkaban is not…it’s horrible for Barty.”
He shook his head, the rage seeping out into exhaustion fairly quickly. You could see the shadows beneath his eyes all of a sudden, “You shouldn’t get involved. It’s dirty business. Anyway, what do you do in Los Angeles?”
You hated that you could glaze over this. But you know it’ll only bring you both more sadness, so you let him change the topic. He’s always been good at it.
“It is, most of the time.”
The silence returned, much longer now. It felt like it stretched on for ages. You ran a finger over the rim of your cup, lips pursed.
Merlin, why is this so heavy all of a sudden? You sucked in a breath, lips parting, but Regulus beat you to it.
“Don’t let these things weigh on you.”
Your heart thrummed in your chest, painful and loud. You nodded, swallowing thickly. There were a lot of things that weren’t supposed to weigh on you. Your brother’s death, your love for Regulus…the situation with Barty.
“So, how have you been?” You asked, though you were afraid of the answer.
“It;s been alright. Mother tried to get me to marry some girl. But it didn’t work.”
The statement brought both shock and unwelcome relief. You weren’t supposed to like him anymore. You were a full adult now, come on. You began to respond, but-
He glanced past you, out the window, “Well, I should get going. I hope I’ll see you tomorrow?”
You nodded, watching him get up to leave. Somehow, any comfort you had felt in the house seemed to escape with him.
The morning brought with it fresh snow. It lay on the grounds all around your house. The white reflected the bright sun, a stark difference to last evening.
You used the snow to distract you. It felt pristine. Nothing like the blood in these walls.
Waking up in your childhood bedroom was terrifying. You kept waiting for a shrill voice to call out. For your brother to come pounding on your door. Neither of those happen. You stared at the peeling floral wallpaper, as though their ghosts will materialize before you. Nothing happened. Snow fell. So you pulled yourself out of bed.
Gooseflesh broke out on your thighs as you sidled to the window. As a child, the snowy mornings of Christmas break would start with Regulus. Meeting his gaze in a window across the street. Watching the snow sparkle against the darkness of the house. You were surprised to see him out, tending to the flowers on his porch.
You couldn’t help but watch. He wasn’t in the prim button up and coat today. A large, very muggle looking brown puffer jacket settled over his shoulders. Even from here, you can see how his cheeks are tinged pink from the cold.
You could see his hands moving delicately over the petals. How you would die to be touched like-
No. Not supposed to think like that.
But he had noticed you already, a small smile gracing his lips. It made your insides melt. It was so nostalgic of your younger days that you can almost forget everything else that happened in this house.
He gave you a wave. You waved back, hoping the color in your cheeks could be chalked up to the cold.
“Coming?” He called and you nodded. You had planned to leave the house either way. You couldn’t stay within walls that were suffocating you.
Five minutes later, you were standing beside Regulus as he finished up with the flowers. There was a warmth in his expression that you yearned for. You wished you could cradle that face. You could feel his cool skin. Your head tilted, observing his curls as they dipped in and out of his face.
Without much thought, you brushed one off his forehead.
The two of you stilled. Then he relaxed.
“Sorry.” You clutched both your hands together.
“No, it’s quite alright,” He gave you a soft smile. The kind that made your knees go weak as a teenager. Even now it seemed. There was a faint dust of red over his cheeks. You tried not to think about it too much.
“Would you like to come in?” He asked after a moment. You shook your head.
“It’s nice out–” You motion at the pristine, mostly undisturbed snow, “–I’d like to stay.”
That, and you didn’t know if you could face his home.
He disappeared within the walls of the house for a moment before reappearing. He was trailed by a familiar house elf. Seeing Kreacher brought back the memories of days like these. When you would visit, drinking sweet tea he made and eating sugar cookies. Until Walburga deemed you too rebellious for her son. Until your parents killed–
“I hope you still like sweet tea?” Regulus said, gesturing Kreacher forward, “Or have you shifted to just coffee.”
“I still do. It’s just difficult to find a good tea shop in LA.”
You thanked the house elf, lifting one of the cups as Regulus took the other. The warm, honeyed tea coated your tongue in long forgotten bliss. Regulus laughed when he saw your expression.
“You’ve not changed much.”
“I didn’t expect you back at all.”
The statement lapsed the two of you into a weighted silence. Weighted with the love you’ve never professed. Weighted with the fear that clung to your chest, the sound of his disappointment. The fractures in your friendship.
“I didn’t mean to just run off like that,” You whispered, earnestly.
“I couldn’t-can’t stay here.”
The silence returned. You feel the need to break it, but you just didn’t know how. You sucked in a long breath and stared into your tea.
“I’ve told you before, I don’t blame you. I would leave too, if I could.”
You wondered if you could take him with you. A future of woven sunlight, spent in roaming the world flash before you. But Regulus had always had an odd attachment to the house. To his responsibilities. Even if he didn’t need to anymore. He’d never leave. So you didn’t say, and he didn’t ask.
“Come on,” You finished your tea, rushing into the snow in the front yard, “Let’s let loose a little.”
He glanced between you and the snow distrustfully.
“Are you going to throw snow at me?”
“No! We can build a snowman or something.”
He eyed you suspiciously for a moment longer, before cautiously descending into the snow. The moment his foot sunk through the soft white material, you had already tossed your first snowball. It crashed into his chest, a surprised expression overtaking his face.
Something glinted in his eyes. You couldn’t hold back your grin.
“The betrayal!” He exclaimed, balling up snow between his bare hands. You yelped when it hit you, cold bleeding through your coat.
“You’d never come if you knew!” You shouted back, beginning your own brutal retaliation.
You scrambled through the yard, feet slipping in the snow. He was hot on your heels, each of you with a barrage of snowballs.
You turned to face him, running essentially backwards, “What? Afraid of a chase?”
He chuckled. Another snowball caught you square in the shoulder. The odd balance of momentum sent you crashing into the snow, clothes at your back moistening. The next set of events happened so fast, you couldn’t even catch them. Something skidded in the snow, Regulus called out to you and then–
Then he was on top of you, his hands braced on either side of you.
You felt an absurd amount of heat rushing into your cheeks. He was frozen, gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips. His tongue darted out over his own lips. You didn’t feel like this was real.
You wanted to kiss him. You wondered what he’d taste like, whether his lips would be as cold as his hands always were. Or would they be warm, like a bright summer day. You found yourself wishing he’d lean in. Close the distance between you, just–
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, voice hoarse. He lifted himself off you and then helped you up.
His touch lingered well past what was necessary. Your hands wrapped around yourself.
You didn’t mind, after all.
Regulus managed to convince you into his house. Your clothes were wet from your tumble in the snow. But your body still tingled from the warmth.
Kreacher offered to make you another cup of tea, but Regulus declined, instead bringing out wine. It was a deep maroon, reminiscent of blood. Regulus seemed to realise how it put you off, because a moment later, firewhisky appeared before you.
Then he proceeded to light the fire in his room and drape one of his coats over your shoulders.
The scene felt like coming home to a loving husband. The domesticity made you want to gag and cry and swoon at the same time. But you did none.
“I am glad you came,” He said, eyes directed to his wine glass. You wanted to melt into the floor and never come back.
“I’m glad, too,” You managed. He smiled, and you swore his eyes flicked down to your lips.
“I’d begun feeling like an old spinster,” He said, settling into a large armchair. It shrouded him in shadows and reverence..You wanted to kneel before him. Worship him. But you only snorted.
He shrugged, a very non-Regulus Black movement, “Kreacher is a lovely being, but he is sore company.”
You laughed softly, “So you mean to say I’m splendid company?”
You hummed, taking a sip of the firewhiskey. It burned down your throat. You hadn’t had it in so long that the sensation felt foreign. You downed the rest of the glass in one go.
“Wow,” he remarked. You cast him a sheepish grin.
“Y’know, I’ve been feeling like I’ll die single too,” You muttered, pushing away the glass. It was just enough alcohol to get you bolder–once it acts. But you didn’t want to get drunk tonight.
“How come? I’m sure all the bachelors in Los Angeles are simply dying to have you.”
You snorted once again, shaking your head, “I don’t know. I don‘t feel anything for any of them. Not like I do for you.”
You didn’t realise what you’d said, emboldened by the events of the day. Then it came crashing down on you. You spluttered, struggling to correct yourself.
He tilted his head. For a moment the two of you remained quiet. Before he broke the silence.
“I really want to kiss you.”
Your heart stuttered to a stop in your chest. Those were words you had never imagined you would hear from his mouth. It tilted the axis of your world, the set of your head on your shoulders.
You leant forward before he can change his mind, taking his face in both your hands. Sparks ran down your skin, every point of contact an infinitesimal source. You shuddered, his lips soft beneath yours. His hand came up to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You were out of your seat all of a sudden and pressed against the wall.
This was better than anything you could dream of.
He finally pulled away, pupils blown and lips slightly swollen, “You’re shaking.”
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for that.”
And then his lips were back on yours, his teeth sinking into your lower lip. A small gasp left your lips. You tugged at his hair, he gave a small groan.
From there, a blind stumble ensued. Involving his hands on your waist, your hips, your face, your neck. His skin is cold. He tasted like the tea from earlier and wine you hadn’t had in far too long. You didn’t even realise when your knees hit his bed.
He was so close, yet so so far away. You wanted to hold him to you forever.
He broke away, eyes dark, “Trust me, I’ve waited much longer.”
You awoke the next morning. For a moment, last night was a blur in your head. Then it came rushing back.
You glanced at the figure entangled against you. Both of you were bare, his legs twined with yours. One pale arm rested over your abdomen. And when you looked, you saw him awake. You still couldn’t believe any of this was real.
The nickname had your stomach doing flips. You grinned stupidly.
“How was your night?” There was a playful air to his question. You feigned innocence.
“Why? Did something happen?”
He replicated your grin, “Oh, I don’t know. I just remember a very pretty girl kissing me.”
He hummed in confirmation and you leaned over to kiss him again. He sighed contentedly.
“You’re truly lovely,” He whispered, pulling back. His voice had gone soft, the kind that sent gooseflesh rising along your spine.
“You are splendid yourself,” you replied, carding a hand through his hair.
You smiled, your insides turning to mush. You pulled him into another kiss. Longer, like you could express all your gratitude from it simply
“Did I mention it is also Christmas day?” He asked, once you pulled back.
That grounded you back to reality. Your three days at your old home are drawing to an end. Not that you’d spent much time at the wretched house. But that meant you had to leave soon. You’d go back to LA. Meant that you would have to leave Regulus.
You averted your gaze to the window. The snow was back to sludge. Trampled, ruined. Like your childhood here. You loved him, and you loved that you got this. Something you had wanted for years. But you couldn’t stay.
Couldn’t stay where your parents had killed your brother.
The happiness faded from his face. His brows furrowed. You could almost see the pieces falling into place in his head.
“No.” He breathed. You pressed your lips together.
He shifted, his hands on each side of you until he was hovering over you. His expression was crumpled, a sheen of tears glistening in his eyes.
It was the most vulnerable you had ever heard him. His voice shook and it shattered your heart into a million pieces. You were unsure you would ever be able to pick them back up.
You cradled his face in both your hands. He leant into your touch. You swallowed past the lump in your throat. Your chest constricted until it was hard to breathe.
But you both knew the answer to that. You would go back to LA, to a life where you could pretend your parents and your brother never existed. Where Regulus was just a distant memory and not the boy you loved. No matter how bad your chest ached.
So, you could call it even. You’d had a great weekend.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered.
And the first of his tears fell. You kissed them off his cheeks.
Just so you could call it even. Because you were still leaving.
