Chapter Text
"Why do you not want to buy me a broom? Why, hey, why, why-y?!" the boy was so indignant, frowning and pouting, he was almost ready to stamp his feet. Some people — there were several times more of them in the Alley today than usual — turned around at the whiney voice. However, noticing and understanding who exactly the child was walking with, they immediately turned away. Or even quickened their pace, "This is so, so unfair to me!"
"I do not make the rules, Draco. The letter clearly told you, "First-years are not allowed their own broomsticks.""
"Nonsense, complete nonsense! I have had my own mini-broom since I was a year old!"
"That is what you will be flying on until your second year," Regulus wanted to joke, but quickly remembered that he's an adult in the situation. So, he managed to keep quiet in time.
Sighing, the young man took his son by the arm and led him forward. Draco was angry, of course, but he didn't resist. Instead, he stomped after, menacingly. Did not say anything out loud, but it was clear as day that he really wanted to grumble. Just like Kreacher, whom he totally had picked up this habit from.
Diagon Alley is always very crowded before the school year. So much so that the flow of people can basically push you into one shop or another. Some people even like it — all sorts of Gryffindors, for example. But Black, who had lived in somewhat isolation for so many years, did not. The huge crowd of wizards was very unnerving. It was already hard enough to see the road with just one eye, but when there were people all around... honestly, Regulus prayed that this preparation for school would end soon.
He was glad to see his son's happy face when he shouted, "I got it! I got a letter from Hogwarts!". Really, he was. But then he remembered the whole procession called "send your child to school with all necessary stuff" — and that's where the joy ended.
"Father, wait! You almost passed by," the boy barely managed to stop him, quickly pulling at his robe, "The books. You wanted to buy me the books."
"Ah..."
Regulus felt a little stupid. Indeed, with only his left eye he hadn't noticed the signs of two shops at once. Partial blindness was a serious drawback, especially at such important moments. Fortunately, at least he had his smart son nearby, who paid attention to everything around. Draco played the role of his father's eyes so well, he was almost his "second sight".
"My apologies, I did not see that," the boy wasn't offended though, perfectly understanding the root of the problem, "Madam Malkin's shop is here too... then, I will buy all your books, and you go get your robe," the gloomy, dissatisfied face finally gave way to a bright smile, "Can you handle it alone?"
"Yes, father!"
And he went to the shop as quickly as possible. Regulus watched him for a few seconds, then sighed quietly. The more often he was addressed as "father", the more the realization hit his mind, "I have gotten older... not nineteen anymore, but thirty years old." It was horrible, Black hadn't even planned to live to that age.
Moreover, he hadn't planned that Draco would one day stop calling him "dad". No one forced him to use the colder and more detached "father". He had somehow come to this himself (or maybe picked up the habit from his pureblood peers). It was breaking Regulus's heart just a little. However, he didn't show his feelings outwardly.
"...right, so. Books, books," he muttered under his breath, heading to the neighboring shop, "Eight books. I hope I do not forget anything..."
Draco, meanwhile, was already at Madam Malkin's. Pleased with the polite greeting, she led him to the far corner of the shop. There was another witch waiting, ready to take measurements. And while the boy was talking to her, another person came through the door. At first, the thought came, "Oh, did father buy everything that quickly?". But turning his head, little Black saw an incredibly thin, almost tiny child in stretched, baggy clothes — so much so that they hung from his body. Black hair wasn't at all groomed, so it looked more like a crow's nest. However, there was something interesting about this boy — large round glasses, which bright green eyes shone behind.
The stranger talked to Madam Malkin, and then went to the same corner. After all, he also needed to take measurements for the future robe.
"Hullo," said Draco, still carefully studying the child in front of him. He seemed way too small and short. Was he really eleven years old? "Hogwarts too?"
"Yes."
"You have bad eyesight, right? My father does too. Although he does not wear glasses as ridiculous as yours," the fair-haired boy continued speaking. He carefully stretched out each word, pronouncing all the letters perfectly, "By the way, my father is next door buying my books. And then we will go choose a wand for me," the boy only listened, not saying anything in response, "I asked my father to buy me a new broom — you know, exclusively for school — but he refused. Said something about the rules, blah-blah-blah, "we will get you the newest Nimbus when you're a second year"... I think that is unfair. I need to force him somehow, and then smuggle it to Hogwarts."
The child with glasses looked at him strangely. As if he remembered something bad.
"Have you got your own broom?" the dark-haired boy shook his head, "Play Quidditch at all?" again, the same half-answer. Draco couldn't help but think, "What an oddball...", "Well, I do. My father, however, always won when we competed."
"O-oh..." the taciturn stranger drawled.
"He was the best Slytherin seeker! And I think I shall repeat his fate when I am sorted."
Draco lightly elbowed the boy in the side to at least stir him up a little and make him talk,
"Know what house you will end up in yet?"
"No..."
"We-ell, no one really knows until the Hat says," Black suddenly lifted his chin proudly, "But I am sure I will definitely get sorted into Slytherin. My whole family was there, except for my un... ah!"
The boy next to him suddenly flinched with his whole body — didn't expect such a loud shout. Draco, blinking rapidly, put a hand to his lips. And only after a few moments muttered,
"Father asked not to mention his name, father does not like it when we talk about him, father always becomes gloomy..."
"About "him"?"
"It does not matter. It is simply our disappointment and shameful blemish," the child in glasses began to blink surprised. Then he frowned. Clearly, he was starting to like the young wizard beside him less and less, "No one wants to talk about him. Especially me and my father."
There was no response. The boy continued to be silent, as if was put under some curse. What a weird one. Draco didn't understand why on Earth he was still talking to him. Perhaps because he wasn't particularly used to communicating with boys his age. The most he had ever had in his life was Blaise and a couple of times with Ernie Macmillan–
"Watch where you're goin', lil' Black!" suddenly came from the street. Loud enough for both boys to hear and turn around. At first, Draco was happy to see his father, but then he quickly frowned — noticed some shaggy, bearded giant next to him, "Merlin! At first I thought you were... that one...!"
""That one"?" Regulus grimaced, his raised voice full of outrage.
"That freak... that murderin' traitor!"
Indignant even more than his father, Draco was ready to go and quarrel with the giant himself,
"Who in the world is that?!.."
"Oh... that's Hagrid," the boy next to him explained, adjusting his glasses in surprise, "He works at Hogwarts," Draco frowned even more angrily.
"That is allowed to work at Hogwarts? In my notion, he is a sort of savage."
The stranger in glasses suddenly perked up. He looked very morose, also ready to fight right here and now.
"I think he's brilliant," the blond wasn't impressed. Someone who dared to speak to his father in such a tone couldn't be "brilliant".
"Oh really?" Draco grinned wryly, "He is with you, then? Why? Where are your father or mother?" a short silence, followed by,
"Both dead."
Before Black could react, a very irritated man entered the shop. Clearly unhappy about something, and his son guessed exactly what it was. Only Merlin knows what that savage dared to say to him. There had definitely been a verbal fight just now. But Draco was sure that his father had emerged victorious.
"Draco, are you done ye...?" the wizard suddenly stopped as soon as he looked at the unfamiliar boy. Unfamiliar, but looking exactly like the one Regulus had once known and even more. A quiet, barely perceptible, "James?" left his lips by itself.
At first he thought that he simply imagined it or that started hallucinating out of anger. He even had to rub his right eye with a free hand to dispel the illusion. But no. Unfortunately, nothing had changed. In front of him stood a small, tiny James. Those were definitely his facial features. Impossible to confuse with anyone else's. And behind the round glasses, there were large green ey–
Oh, wait. No. That was not James. James had been dead for a long time now. Rotting away with his beloved wife and probably still mad that he hadn't become the hottest grandfather in the wizarding world. Then, this boy... this must be his son, the famous Harry Potter.
Regulus looked down and began to examine the clothes in horror. Merlin, these were actual rags — he couldn't call them anything else. They looked like they were stolen from some heavy, chubby boy and then put on this skinny match. Harry Potter is... is he not fed at home? Why is he so small and puny? Why does he look like his Muggle guardians don't take care of him at all? After all, even the round glasses on him seemed of the worst quality. They probably weren't worth a single galleon.
"So the Potters' son is completely safe?"
"Of course, my boy."
Of course. Of fucking course. Could that even be called "safe"? Poor James Potter — if he knew about such outrageous lawlessness, about how his son was treated, he would've already resurrected himself.
"Sir?.." the boy spoke up, slightly tilting his head to the side. Draco also spoke, as if following his example,
"Father? What is it?"
Regulus still couldn't take his eyes off... James? This child seemed to be his exact mini-copy, and yet he looked nothing like him. Because James Potter was never underfed and skinny, never wore stretched-out old clothes, never looked at people so pitifully, never had these disgusting, loathsome green eyes.
"Do you... know my father?.."
"What?" the stranger was genuinely surprised, "No. I haven't a clue who he is."
Two Gryffindors — their robes were immediately giving it away — were walking down the corridor and talking loudly. They were laughing, discussing something while carrying huge, heavy books in their hands. But of course, James Potter had a much larger stack than his... friend? Regulus couldn't know for sure. He could hardly tell the difference between the people of "the Lion House", especially the girls. He only knew that this blonde with shining eyes was not Lily.
The happiness of both continued exactly until the moment when brown eyes suddenly met gray ones. The bright smile left the teenager's face in a matter of moments, replacing a gloomy expression. His steps suddenly quickened.
Regulus walked past with his head held high. He had done nothing wrong. He's doing everything right. His actions are correct, his opinion is the truth.
"...hey, wasn't that baby Black?" he heard the girl's voice perfectly well, "Why didn't you say hi? I thought you were like good friends now?"
He had to slow down a little to hear the answer. James also did a good job and said the phrase as loudly as possible,
"What? No. I haven't a clue who he is," and suddenly the Slytherin froze. Right in the same place, not daring to take a step back or forward. Perhaps his sudden stop was heard, perhaps not.
But James probably doesn't care anyway. After he found out about the dark mark, he just doesn't.
"Wha-a-at?" the girl suddenly drawled with genuine surprise, "Oi-oi, what's all this, Golden Boy? Did you have a fight or something?" such a spacious corridor for some reason began to seem narrow, stuffy, uncomfortable, "Or did Sirius tell you some rubbish again? Honestly, you always let his words get to your head and–"
"Marlene, we'll discuss this later. Let's just go, 'kay?"
He didn't know exactly how long he stood there, blinking stupidly, analyzing the words. Probably for a long time. So much so that Evan even managed to appear in the corridor afterwards,
"Oi, Reg, why are you all frozen over there? Is everything okay?" he came closer to peer into the pale face, thought for a moment, and then continued, "Mate... what's wrong? Did a mudblood pass by and cough on you?" when there was no answer, the Slytherin patted his friend on the back with a smile, "Eh, don't worry so much, Reg, they're not contagious! Come on, let's go, stop standing here like a statue."
All of a sudden, it became sickeningly unbearable to look at this boy in round glasses. So Regulus quickly turned to his son and asked if he had finished.
"Yes, we are all done, mister Black," the witch answered for him, "You may go."
"Brilliant."
Draco obediently took his father's hand, which he extended forward. Then turned around and drawled to the boy in glasses, "Well, I will see you at Hogwarts, I suppose. I hope we can talk a little longer next time." Regulus was shaking all over from just the phrases, even though they were so innocent. He didn't know who exactly he should pray to, but he'd pray anyway. As soon as he gets home. He'd ask someone from above for his son to never make friends with this child. And so that he himself would be spared the recurring thoughts, "James' son is in rags, no one looks after him, how has he lived all this time? This must be a nightmare, a nightmare, for sure!..".
When both Blacks left Madam Malkin's shop, Draco looked at the giant with a ton of sincere contempt. Might've even insulted if Regulus hadn't quickly led him away.
***
"Ugh... it is all full everywhere, and Blaise is nowhere to be found either..." the boy muttered under his breath, walking along the long carriage. Another door appeared ahead, not fully locked, "Hmm. Should try there."
He reached the compartment and then, opening the door, cautiously looked inside. He was a little surprised when realized that two boys were already sitting there. And neither of them, unfortunately, was Blaise. Although... Draco was more or less "familiar" with the one in glasses.
"...that one from the shop," whispered the stranger, whose name was still in question.
The second boy, with bright red hair and blue eyes, gave him a very strange look. Either a suspicious or bewildered — it was hard to tell right away. Only one thing was clear: Black wasn't welcome here. But he was already tired of wandering pointlessly around the train, so he asked
"Can I sit with you?"
The boys looked at each other, discussed something telepathically, and then finally let him in. The blond carefully sat down at the edge, a bit cautious of his future classmates.
"Well, um... what was your name again?" asked the boy in glasses.
He had such a weird manner of speech. Usually people talk like that when they give someone who has done something wrong a second chance. Which is extremely strange, because young Black wasn't guilty of anything.
"Draco–" the boy in old, worn-out clothes snorted with laughter into his fist, "Think my name's funny, do you?" embarrassment and indignation at the same time made the wizard's skin cover itself with a pale, barely noticeable blush, "In that case, yours must be a hundred times better?"
"Ah, err... well..."
This red-haired boy in rags no longer evoked any positive emotions. After all, how is it normal to laugh at someone else's name? Who raised him anyway?
"Ahem. I shall continue then. I am Draco Regulus Black."
"Black..." the boy's blue eyes quickly widened in horror. His huge, ugly rat suddenly began to fuss: squealed, fidgeted, looking for shelter in the owner's long shirt, "You... you're from that family... the same as Sirius– oi, Scabbers, what's wrong with you? Calm down! What's gotten into you?.."
Wonderful, even the animals aren't happy to have him in this compartment. He probably should've continued looking for Blaise, or at least Pansy and Daphne.
"My father does not like to talk about this man, and I hold the same view," the wizard said in a cold, stern voice (just like his mother's), "So refrain from mentioning him... er...?" his face changing slightly, he made a quick movement of a hand.
"Ron Weasley," the red-haired boy introduced himself.
"Aha, Weasley, then. My father told me just a little about your family."
Draco didn't elaborate any further. He didn't even bother to explain what exactly he heard from his father — good or bad things. Ron clearly didn't like this reticence, but oh well. The reaction of the old rat was what worried everyone the most. Wasn't it strange that it lost its mind in seconds because of the mention of the Black family? Frowning, the pale boy studied the little animal, trying to understand what was on its mind.
Unfortunately, he hadn't come to any conclusions.
"Well... since you're a Black, what house will you be in?" Ron asked after a long pause, "You had a Gryffindor in your family, so–"
"Slytherin. I am going to be in Slytherin, just like the normal rest of my family," his compartment neighbors clearly weren't happy with this answer.
"Are you saying that Gryffindors are not normal?"
Without receiving anything other than an arrogant, proud look, Ron immediately realized that he wasn't on the same path with this boy. Therefore, there was no longer any point in behaving friendly with him. The red-haired didn't even try to hide his discontent and irritation — he looked at Draco as if he were an enemy of all the wizarding kind.
"Only dark and evil wizards graduate from Slytherin."
"That is not true," Draco protested at the same moment, "My father is a Slytherin, and he is the kindest man in the world," the red-haired boy muttered:, "You only say that 'cause he's your family," "What do you even know about him? My father is a great man!"
"Oh really? Just like your uncle?" Scabbers stirred again somewhere in the clothes of its young owner.
"Are you dumb? I asked you not to talk about this man. My father does not like it when–"
"Pfft. I bet your father's also a psycho, who has done a lot of bad things. I don't get why this was hushed up, and he got acquitted," the gray eyes opposite began to practically burn through the boy, "Dad said that everything in the papers was a lie. Or a bribe. In fact, your father should rot in Azkaban too–"
Unable to stand this pathetic babble any longer, Draco abruptly jumped up from his seat. Ron, surprised, fell silent. The boy in glasses sitting next to him didn't even start to speak: being in shock from such a furious fight, he could only watch.
"You..."
Regulus really didn't like the fact that society perceived him as bad and evil. And not only him, but their entire family tree, which wizards loved to brand as "mad", "dark", "cursed".
"You... you do not know anything about my family, you damn Weasel," Ron blushed pink to the tips of his ears because of the new nickname, "You are just jealous that yours is not half as noble as mine."
"What is so "noble" about being Black?!"
The dark-haired boy, his green eyes darting back and forth, was ready to sink into the ground. He hadn't expected to find himself in the middle of a quarrel on the very first day. And it was even worse, because of not understanding who was right and who was wrong.
"Exactly, how would you know? After all, the Weasels prefer to live in poverty and wear hand-me-down robes."
...Ron is probably the right one after all. And even if he's wrong, who cares. The good impression of Draco was completely ruined. No one would take his side, not for anything in the world.
"Okay, Black, that's it!" the squeak of a big rat was already making everyone feel physically ill. Ron was about to reach for his wand, but then the boy in glasses intervened,
"Lads, lads– what are you doing, on the first day– we haven't even arrived yet!"
"The day does not matter. Those who insult the Black family need to be put in their place right away," Draco snapped coldly with the kind of contempt that usually makes people's legs buckle, "You are not behaving very nobly, Weasley. Are you sure you will end up in Gryffindor with that kind of behavior? Rudeness is not the same as bravery."
Ron’s face twisted because of such impudence and pride. His brain was practically screaming, "Some Black is gonna lecture me here?! No way!". He would've definitely started fighting, even with bare hands, but suddenly a nice lady knocked on their door. With a trolley of sweets in hand, she asked, "Would you like something, dears?". And Draco immediately realized that it was better not to show his bad side in front of the old woman now. He was a well-mannered boy, unlike some. He knows when to retreat and leave, so as not to ruin reputation. Neither his own nor his family's.
However, in the end he still couldn't help but say,
"Weasley, you should keep your mouth shut. Before you say something about people who are a hundred times more worthy than you," Black's voice was filled with pompous pride as he walked calmly toward the door, "Especially with a rat on your shoulder. Very... symbolic," the boy's ears blushed bright red again.
Draco politely greeted the woman, and then went on to look for a different compartment. In hopes that maybe this time he'd find Blaise. And would definitely tell him about the impudence he had just encountered in all the details.
"You see, Harry? All Slytherins are bad," the red-haired continued. He didn't even try to hide his irritation, "You'll soon find it out."
"Uh, I mean– that was already enough for me to understand..."
However, Ron soon fell silent, down in the dumps, when he realized that he didn't have money for sweets. Bloody Black probably has, but he...
"Hey, no worries," his new friend smiled at him, taking galleons out of the pocket, "I'll pay."
***
The great Harry Potter, the Boy-who-lived, was sorted into Gryffindor. Who would've doubted it. Well, can't be helped... good riddance to that idiot and his red-haired pauper. Draco doesn't care that the famous hero didn't end up in Slytherin, and that he once even dreamed of being friends with him. He doesn't care, really, he doesn't. Potter has already chosen his path and his "sort of people". Black is not on his path. Not in this life.
"C'mon, mate. Look at it from the other, more pleasant side," Blaise said, smiling. He sat almost right next to his friend, while giving the Gryffindor table a look of contempt, "At least there will be fewer lousy half-bloods in our house."
"Yeah, yeah! We don't need those here!" Pansy agreed.
To be honest, Draco didn't quite understand what was so bad about half-bloods. And muggle-borns, too. The concept of "blood traitor" was not even known to him. However, he didn't say anything out loud: his father taught him not to correct other children. Otherwise, they'd immediately hate him. And Black really wanted to be friends with the Slytherins.
This desire didn't extend to the kids from other houses. More precisely, to the two Gryffindors, whom he couldn't stand. At first, of course, he quarreled only with Ron, but then the saint hero began to get involved too. The same hero whom Draco never managed to become friends with. The one who preferred the poor ragamuffin, who also dared to insult the Black family– to insult Regulus Black.
Such things are unforgivable, and Draco hated Harry Potter for it. That boy also didn't like the noble aristocrat very much. Every day their spark of mutual resentment flared up more and more, gradually turning into real rivalry.
Father was absolutely right when he said that the Blacks and the Potters shouldn't be friends. A child should always listen to their father — he has more experience, he knows better, he is smart. In his letters, the Slytherin admitted this with defeat. And sincerely pleased Regulus, who thought, "Oh thank Merlin... my prayers were heard. I am so glad they are not friends."
"...yeah, I was wondering where this smell of lion meat comes from?" Draco snorted angrily, passing by the duo of fools, "But it was just the Weasel with his hero in armor standing next to each other."
"Yeah... it stinks of poverty..."
"And dirty blood!"
"Ew-ew-ew! I hope I do not get infected!"
Now Crabbe and Goyle were also hanging around behind. The young wizard hadn't met them before Hogwarts, so he didn't really know how to treat them. As friends? As just roommates? They were both a bit dumb, but at the same time, they were boys his age. Draco had met very few of them in his life, so he allowed them to join the group. After all, there will always be a place for those who are happy to support his feud against Potter and Weasley.
"...now, now, mates. Let's not be so unfair to–"
"Shut up, Black! Forgot to ask the crazy ones!" the hero in glasses barked, turning around.
Merlin, how rude. Especially when Draco really wanted to calm down and shut up his housemates, who were slowly starting to cross the line. But of course, this desire evaporated instantly because of what was said.
"Oh, Potter has a voice, after all?" childish resentment was furiously oozing out while Draco continued to tease, "We thought that only Weasel could talk in your duet."
Harry twisted his face in anger,
"You are all bark and no bite. In fact, as pathetic as your father."
Pressing his lips tightly into a thin line, the boy watched with hatred as the Gryffindor turned and left. What did he understand? What he could know about the incredible greatness of each member of the ancient family? Draco couldn't wrap his head around how anyone dared to say even one bad word about his loved ones. Especially when he hadn't even met them in person. Grandmother Walburga would've sent him to the afterlife for that. After all, anyone who insulted the Blacks deserved punishment.
That's the simplest axiom.
"Whoa!.."
A spell suddenly flew at Potter's feet, causing him to stumble. He even skidded forward on the floor a little while he fell. All the first-year Slytherins burst out laughing, praising their housemate. However, he himself wasn't at all happy or smiling. On the contrary, he only thought, "That's for my father."
However, when the children noticed the Ravenclaw prefect at the beginning of the corridor, they immediately hurried to leave — no one wanted to lose points.
"These damn Slytherins... and damn Black! I hope he chokes, or something!.." Ron snorted, helping his friend to stand up. Then shook the dust off his black and red robe with both hands, "Dad was right when he told me that everyone in his family is evil and insane!"
"Insane, for sure... Black is acting like a lunatic," otherwise why else would he pick fights every time, hurt someone's feelings and do all sorts of nasty things? Only people who aren't quite right in the head would act like that.
"Exactly what I'm talking about! I hope he gets expelled soon."
***
"...oh well, only I could be this lucky," sighing, the wizard said in a measured, monotone voice. Regulus, standing opposite him, fully shared his emotions. However, he still wished for a more cordial greeting. After all, it's been so many years, "I wanted to escape from one Black, but then immediately was caught up by another."
"I am also glad to see you, Snape."
"Your face says so too, don't worry."
Literally (because Regulus couldn't quite see where he was going) they bumped into each other in Diagon Alley. It was lucky that neither of them bought anything and, accordingly, dropped it. Otherwise, Severus would've been several hundred times more hostile.
The first thing Black noticed was the man's appearance. He hadn't changed at all. Except maybe he had grown taller and his hair got longer, but nothing more. All the other features, as Regulus remembered them, remained the same. It was even somewhat sad: Severus had completely let himself go, plunging headlong into despondency and melancholy.
If Regulus had sensed this aura of despair from him in a matter of seconds, what it was like for the children? Oh, right. Speaking of children–
"Wanted to escape from one Black?" he repeated the phrase, raising his eyebrow sarcastically, "I will never believe that Draco causes problems for the professors. He is well-mannered."
Severus thought for a moment what to say, but soon realized: there really was nothing to counter. Because Regulus' words were true. For the teachers, Draco was by no means a difficult child. On the contrary, he was a diligent student, pleasing his house with points for such brilliant work in class. He didn't cause serious problems, like some, he just...
"He just can't stop hovering around me to get me to sign some kind of permission. Y'know, to keep his own broom," then Snape even chuckled slightly, as if he actually found it hilarious, "He wrote the permission himself, but I must admit, it looks very official. With your family coat of arms and all that."
Regulus, blushing slightly, looked away. Under his breath, he whispered, "P'tite canaille...", which made the man next to him cackle even harder.
"Alright, I will discuss the broom topic with him again..." the aristocrat exhaled, "But overall? No complaints about my son?"
"None," yet suddenly the professor snorted in anger, "Unlike Potter," Regulus gave him a genuinely surprised look, "Hogwarts is in constant disaster every day because of him," and suddenly a quiet smile escaped his lips, "He's unbearably similar to his idiot father in that sense."
Straightening his back so that the whole body tensed painfully, Regulus darkened in an instant. His lips pressed tightly into a line. Because if they parted even for a second, some insults or offensive jibes would definitely come out.
"Oh, yes, I forgot..." Severus seemed to come to his senses, noticing the semi-adequate reaction, "James Potter is a sensitive topic for you."
It is not clear whether he was apologizing this way or, on the contrary, trying to trample into the dirt even more. In any case, Black didn't like the wording. So he continued to stare at his former housemate menacingly. Did not say anything out loud, but even a fool could read it in his eyes, "One more word — and you will not be able to teach classes for the next two weeks."
"...stop glaring at me like that, Black," the professor sighed after a long, tense pause. And moved away from the road, so as not to disturb the other passers-by. Regulus, not really understanding why, followed him like an intimidating tall shadow, "Don't blame me... I just had a hard week. As always, Potter's to blame. Though, a different one this time."
"The boy has only been studying for two months. What did he do that you hate him so much?"
Now that they were away from the mass of people, it was easier to talk "heart to heart". In not particularly vivid details, but with a ton of discontent, Severus told about recent events: flying on a broom without the supervision of a professor, a troll right during the Halloween celebration. Regulus was already mad at the first, but when he finished listening to the second, he was horrified. Three first-years fighting a troll, all alone, while none of the professors were around? That's insane! What if one of them had died?!
Especially little Potter, who was still too young to die. Who did not need to end his life, just like his "idiot father".
"I cannot believe it," the aristocrat responded, sighing theatrically. He even threw up his hands for effect — it was a small habit of his, "Who is responsible for children anyway?"
"Drop the dramatics, Black. Besides, everything's fine with your child."
Well, yes, and that was reassuring. Very much so. There was no need to worry about Draco, but... someone should take care of Potter too, shouldn't they? Someone should at least think about his safety out of respect, shouldn't they?
"...I keep looking and looking... and I understand that you care about the boy," the potions master noted in a colorless, cold voice, "Do his appearance and surname reopen old wounds?"
"That is the question I should be asking you, Snape."
Regulus took the sudden silence as permission to continue talking,
"Still haven't forgiven James?" in the company of only certain people, the wizard allowed himself to pronounce the first name of that person.
"I'm not obliged to. He never apologized, so I don't have to forgive," to hide his emotions, Severus proudly raised his chin. Regulus though, at first surprised, and then deep in thought, lowered his head. They stood in awkward, uncomfortable silence for about ten seconds that were disturbed by,
"...alright. In a sense, you are right."
Snape jerked and immediately turned all his attention to the man. During their entire conversation, it was as if he had woken up just now. For the first time, someone out of so many people had told him this. For the first time, someone, or rather Regulus Black himself, hadn't humiliated him for a school grudge. Instead, he had acknowledged that the potions master had suffered seriously over so many years of bullying. He had acknowledged it without pretense or flattery, but as honestly and sincerely as possible. Something like that was unexpected. It even made Severus look at this wizard from a slightly different angle.
And it also made him actually listen.
"I am not defending James, and especially his past actions. Just as I am not defending my own. You know, we both were... not the best kind of people before," the man next to him, not daring to move, kept listening, "Stay mad at James as much as you want, but."
"But?.."
"But his son has nothing to do with it. I know you are not that thick-skulled and you understand this perfectly well."
Yes, Severus did, but that didn't make it any easier. Not at all. Common sense said, "The child is not to blame for being born to such a bastard." But the heart made him hate more time after time, only because Harry was the spitting image of his father. Looking at him was like looking at your own nightmare that had lasted for seven years non-stop. It was like looking at the love of your life, whose bright green eyes remained in your memory forever.
Harry James Potter was a mixture of the most hated and the most beloved in the world. Both for Severus and Regulus at the same time.
"You and I are kind of in the same boat," the aristocrat continued, pulling his acquaintance out of deep, tedious thoughts, "The only difference is that I do not torment the boy because of hatred for his father."
"Oh well done, Black. You are so-o wise and mature, should I applaud you?"
"I shall do without any applause today," he couldn't resist rolling his eyes, "While you'd better change your attitude towards the boy."
Regulus decided that this was the end of their small and casual conversation. And he could go on about his business, not forgetting to buy his son a few gifts to lift up the spirits (lately the letters from him have been a little sad). He took only two steps forward, but didn't have much time to go far. That's why he clearly heard,
"...I'll try to keep an eye on him from time to time."
When Black turned around, the potions master was already looking in a completely different direction — perhaps he felt ashamed of his own words.
"Hah..."
"Don't you dare laugh at me, Bla–"
"I thought about it once, Snape, a long time ago," Regulus continued, interrupting. He smiled slightly, in order to show that he wasn't hostile, "Thought that you are not that bad of a person. Who knows... maybe I was right, eh?" with this, their strange conversation truly ended. There were no more unsaid things, no more heavy feelings and thoughts.