(no subject)
For summerborn
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: G
Summary: Short and simply Regulus.
A/N: Thank you so much to all those who beta-read this.
[walls]
He lives in a box.
Grimmauld Place keeps its descendants in check with the watchful eyes of its tapestry. Here, the shouting is manageable; it’s the silence that gets to him.
Hogwarts isn't the haven Sirius boasted it would be. Only his brother (and a few others) could have that privilege.
/Sirius is a Black and it doesn't matter./
///
[duties]
Yellow. Blue. Or maybe even red. The Hat knows just how to tempt him.
He sees Sirius' face from even under (or is it through?) the brim.
/You can choose freedom,/ his brother had said before.
Encouraging him.
Annoying him.
Taunting him.
Eyes shut tightly, he insists on green.
/He is a Black and that is all that matters./
///
[apart; growing more and more]
Slytherin is just another one of his Mother's dinner parties, stretched into longer periods of time disguised as school years. You shake hands and smile politely - humble, in front of superiors, and graceful, among those under your station. Appearances are everything.
His brother never had the tolerance for such arrangements. Sirius would have been bored into charming the common room House colors pink and purple. Or trying out that experimental (explosive) Permanent Sticking Charm on the century-old drapes.
He thinks of cornering Sirius without his gang and telling him about those projects.
He remembers that Sirius is never alone.
The dungeons are safe.
///
[‘Toujours Pur’ is just a motto]
He likes the kitchens. He visits the place (beyond the ticklish pear) and the smells of cooking wash over him.
Warm.
/Please, Sir. What would you be eating? Would Master like snacks?/
They remind him of Kreacher, of nights without food as punishment, and of small, kind hands handing him tea and biscuits.
He would summon Kreacher if not for his Mother finding out.
Being there is enough.
///
[parallels and secrets]
Severus catches him in one of his visits.
His own clothes hint strongly of garlic and other spices.
Severus has leaves and bits of twig stuck in his hair and robes.
They meet at the stairs going back to the dormitories. They stop. Neither says a word.
The next day promises either a trip to the Headmaster's office or detention with Slughorn. Or worse, a prefect.
None of these come.
///
[hidden from the real world]
The room is always empty.
They talk of Quidditch, Sirius, Potions, Lily Evans, Gryffindors, that stupid git Potter, spells, werewolves and detentions.
Other times, they keep quiet, book or quill in hand.
The room is always different (wary of Peeves), but nothing there is silver nor green.
///
[Not Us.]
The Marauders, as they proudly call themselves, play pranks on everyone.
Mostly on Severus. Never on him.
The insult is the same.
///
[catalyst]
Severus walks into the common room, back stiff. It is comical to see - Severus has a snout, pig ears and a curly tail, and is covered in mud, but he has never been as regal in his stance, glaring death to anyone who dared laugh at him.
/Pigs do fly. Pigs do fly. Pigs do fly. Pigs do fly./
Who knew that the troublesome foursome would actually conform and adhere to the House dynamics.
He knows the truth and so does Severus - everything is according to (caused by) that messy haired spoiled brat.
///
[against the stream*]
The plan is simple - observe, calculate, practice then execute.
Timing.
He watches and waits.
Sirius had always told him he couldn't pull a prank. (without his older brother)
He moves. (he flies)
///end
* taken from Kazuya Minekura
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: G
Summary: Short and simply Regulus.
A/N: Thank you so much to all those who beta-read this.
[walls]
He lives in a box.
Grimmauld Place keeps its descendants in check with the watchful eyes of its tapestry. Here, the shouting is manageable; it’s the silence that gets to him.
Hogwarts isn't the haven Sirius boasted it would be. Only his brother (and a few others) could have that privilege.
/Sirius is a Black and it doesn't matter./
///
[duties]
Yellow. Blue. Or maybe even red. The Hat knows just how to tempt him.
He sees Sirius' face from even under (or is it through?) the brim.
/You can choose freedom,/ his brother had said before.
Encouraging him.
Annoying him.
Taunting him.
Eyes shut tightly, he insists on green.
/He is a Black and that is all that matters./
///
[apart; growing more and more]
Slytherin is just another one of his Mother's dinner parties, stretched into longer periods of time disguised as school years. You shake hands and smile politely - humble, in front of superiors, and graceful, among those under your station. Appearances are everything.
His brother never had the tolerance for such arrangements. Sirius would have been bored into charming the common room House colors pink and purple. Or trying out that experimental (explosive) Permanent Sticking Charm on the century-old drapes.
He thinks of cornering Sirius without his gang and telling him about those projects.
He remembers that Sirius is never alone.
The dungeons are safe.
///
[‘Toujours Pur’ is just a motto]
He likes the kitchens. He visits the place (beyond the ticklish pear) and the smells of cooking wash over him.
Warm.
/Please, Sir. What would you be eating? Would Master like snacks?/
They remind him of Kreacher, of nights without food as punishment, and of small, kind hands handing him tea and biscuits.
He would summon Kreacher if not for his Mother finding out.
Being there is enough.
///
[parallels and secrets]
Severus catches him in one of his visits.
His own clothes hint strongly of garlic and other spices.
Severus has leaves and bits of twig stuck in his hair and robes.
They meet at the stairs going back to the dormitories. They stop. Neither says a word.
The next day promises either a trip to the Headmaster's office or detention with Slughorn. Or worse, a prefect.
None of these come.
///
[hidden from the real world]
The room is always empty.
They talk of Quidditch, Sirius, Potions, Lily Evans, Gryffindors, that stupid git Potter, spells, werewolves and detentions.
Other times, they keep quiet, book or quill in hand.
The room is always different (wary of Peeves), but nothing there is silver nor green.
///
[Not Us.]
The Marauders, as they proudly call themselves, play pranks on everyone.
Mostly on Severus. Never on him.
The insult is the same.
///
[catalyst]
Severus walks into the common room, back stiff. It is comical to see - Severus has a snout, pig ears and a curly tail, and is covered in mud, but he has never been as regal in his stance, glaring death to anyone who dared laugh at him.
/Pigs do fly. Pigs do fly. Pigs do fly. Pigs do fly./
Who knew that the troublesome foursome would actually conform and adhere to the House dynamics.
He knows the truth and so does Severus - everything is according to (caused by) that messy haired spoiled brat.
///
[against the stream*]
The plan is simple - observe, calculate, practice then execute.
Timing.
He watches and waits.
Sirius had always told him he couldn't pull a prank. (without his older brother)
He moves. (he flies)
///end
* taken from Kazuya Minekura