#also please ignore that neither of those live in winter. they're wizards they can they can keep them alive Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[loserboyfriendrjl]

regulus black had a lonely funeral; carnations scattered around a black coffin. orion and cygnus were carrying it, and in their eyes, there was a strange sorrow, a strange regret.

walburga and druella were trailing behind. walburga, solemn as always, mourned the spare son. druella mourned the lesser of the two brothers, the weak, the meek.

bellatrix was walking in front of them, her head high, her face dry. she was not going to mourn a traitor, she was not going to cry over a man that had ruined their master. she, however, allowed herself to grieve the young man that her cousin had been, aside anything else.

narcissa stood beside her, and her eyes glistened with tears. she clung to lucius' arm, as if it was the only thing that could keep her away from falling apart, from spilling away. she had loved regulus, she really had. she had seen deep within him. she had seen the boy he hadn't been allowed to be. she had seen deeper than the façade, deeper than the skull mask, deeper than the dark mark, etched into his skin, forever black ink, now, white.

maybe that was forgiveness. in death, there are no sinners. the dead are pure, the dead are forgiven. the dead would soon be forgotten. was the change of color something meaningful, or was it a mere coincidence?

was it death that united a family so distant?

regulus black had died in a cold, empty cave. the crisp air of december was biting at their cheeks, leaving them rosy and cold, the same way their hearts were. their hearts were red and alive, and regulus' was deep within the carcass that his body was; his soul, however, had ascended (had it? or had he been such a despicable person that no one would forgive him?)

it snowed on the night of regulus black's funeral. his headstone was simple, and it read the same thing that ot read for everyone else in the black family.

regulus arcturus black

1961-1978

he hadn't been special, of course. the noble and most ancient house of black knows no exceptions, even for those they were supposed to love.

regulus black died a lonely death. regulus black had a lonely funeral; however, in the dead of the night, a slender dog knelt beside the gravestone, white tulips in his mouth. a wolf howled in the distance, pained, a wail of grief and madness. the dog's body was pressed against the cold stone.

there was something holding him there, a pulse of the earth that kept him close to a boy he had once loved, to a man he had resented.