#the house of black

[questintheskies]

[aisiedaisie]

hello!! I was wondering about if you'd be interested in writing a regulus black / sirius black x reader ff where reader is learning french but is terribly horrendous at it

No pressure pooks🙏

Hello hello~!!! Thank you, thank you, thank you for this idea!!! As soon as I saw this ask I knew I had to write it immediately. Now, like the reader in this fic, my French is terrible... I haven’t touched it in years— aside from the occasional Duolingo lesson— so I’m sure my grammar will be all over the place. Hopefully, it’s not too bad, but fingers crossed!

Paring: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

WC: 1.2k

How has it come to this?

You’re perched on the couch in the cozy but slightly chaotic living room of your shared flat, flanked by Sirius and his younger brother, Regulus. Sirius— your boyfriend of six months —leans forward, scribbling something onto a notepad, his dark hair tumbling into his face as he mutters phrases under his breath. Beside you, Regulus sits cross-legged with the air of a reluctant tutor, his sharp features softened by uncharacteristic patience. 

Together, they are attempting what feels impossible: cramming basic French into your overwhelmed brain before you face what you can only describe as a gauntlet— meeting the Black family matriarch.

The mere thought of her sends a shiver down your spine. 

When she found out Sirius was in a relationship—and that she hadn’t been informed— she had, predictably, thrown a fit.

The result? An invitation, that felt more like a summons, to the infamous Black family home for Christmas. As if meeting your boyfriend’s parents weren’t already intimidating enough, there was a catch: she was said to be excruciatingly, almost maliciously picky.

Sirius hadn’t minced words about it, either. “She won’t like you,” he’d said bluntly the night the invitation, if you could call it that, had arrived. “Don’t take it personally. She doesn’t like anyone.”

Which was, of course, impossible to not take personally.

So here you were, cramming vocabulary in a desperate attempt to win even a sliver of her approval. If learning French wasn’t already difficult enough, doing it under the critical eye of the Black brothers was verging on impossible.

“Non, non,” Regulus corrects gently, his tone calm but firm as he watches frustration creep into your features.

You glare at the notepad in Sirius’ lap. The word rencontrer stares back at you like a stubborn enemy, taunting you with its refusal to stick. Sirius seems to sense your despair, because he sets his pen down and shifts closer, his hand moving in soothing circles over your back.

“I’m never going to get this right,” you groan, dropping your face into your hands. The muffled words escape from between your fingers. “Spanish wasn’t this hard. Why is this so hard?”

��You’re doing much better than you think, love,” Sirius says, his voice warm and low, a balm against your growing nerves.

“She might not even say anything in French,” Regulus offers, his tone neutral as though trying not to spook you.

“But it’s her first language,” you counter, peeking at him from between your hands with a pleading look.

Sirius exhales, setting the notepad aside entirely. “You’ll be fine,” he assures you, pulling you gently against his side. You don’t resist. Resting your head on his shoulder feels infinitely better than wrestling with foreign syllables.

“Honestly, you’ll probably win over our dad faster than her anyway,”

“But it’s your mom,” you mumble, the thought of disappointing her settling heavy in your chest.

“She’s probably making a fuss because she needs something to complain about,” Regulus says dryly, his mouth quirking in a half-smile. He gestures toward Sirius with a nod. “And let’s be real... he doesn’t care about her opinion.”

You let out a heavy sigh, knowing he’s right. You’ve heard enough about Sirius’ tumultuous relationship with his parents to know their approval— or lack thereof —means little to him. Still, it doesn’t ease the gnawing anxiety in your stomach. The idea of stepping into that house, of facing her scrutiny, feels like walking into a viper pit.

“Why don’t you try again?” Regulus suggests gently, patting your knee in what you suspect is meant to be a comforting gesture. Though awkward, the effort is endearing. “It’s probably just nerves messing you up.”

You exhale deeply, then nod. Sitting here with them helps—at least somewhat—but their fluency feels like a spotlight highlighting your every misstep. You don’t want to keep fumbling in front of them, even if they’re patient about it.

“C’est un plaisir de vous re—” The words stumble awkwardly on your tongue, frustration bubbling over. “FUCK!” you burst out, dragging out the offending syllable slowly. “Rencontrer, Madame Black.”

Sirius loses it, muffling his laughter behind his hand while Regulus shoots him a sharp glare, clearly unimpressed with his amusement.

“Rencontrer,” Regulus repeats slowly, his voice calm and encouraging.

“Rencontrer,” you echo, focusing hard to mimic his deliberate pronunciation.

“Perfect,” Sirius chimes in, his grin softening as he finally reins in his giggles. “Now just a bit faster, love.”

You shoot him a look, your narrowed eyes more playful than annoyed. “I feel like I’m just free entertainment for you right now.”

Sirius smirks, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your temple. “You’re always free entertainment for me.”

“Je t’aime tellement,” he adds quickly, the French phrase rolling off his tongue effortlessly.

You roll your eyes in exasperation. “Je te déteste tellement,” you counter, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Sirius freezes, his expression twisting into mock offense. “YOU CAN BARELY SAY RENCONTRER, BUT YOU CAN TELL ME YOU HATE ME?!?” His voice rises incredulously, his hands flying up in sheer disbelief.

Regulus lasts all of two seconds before dissolving into laughter. “How do you even know how to say that?” he manages between wheezing breaths.

You shrug nonchalantly. “You two say it all the time.”

Sirius lets out an exaggerated groan, throwing his head back as Regulus dissolves into laughter again, shaking so hard he nearly falls off the couch.

“Oh my God,” Regulus wheezes, doubling over with laughter. “The one fluent phrase you know is I hate you!” His laughter turns into something closer to a breathless gasp, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. His sheer amusement is contagious, and despite your frustration, you can’t help but crack a smile.

“Just—just don’t say that to our mom right off the bat,” Sirius interjects, fighting his own grin as he waves a hand. “If she says something awful, then by all means, go for it, but—”

You whirl toward him, eyes wide in mock outrage. “I would never!”

“Oh no, please do,” Regulus manages, wiping the tears from his face with the heel of his hand. “I’d pay good money to see that.”

“Je te déteste… you both,” you mutter, your attempt to insult them in French as clumsy as it is endearing. The effort only sets them off again, Sirius and Regulus laughing so hard you can’t help but join in.

“Je t'aime aussi, mon cœur,” Sirius teases, his voice full of affection as he leans down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“Get a room,” Regulus groans, though the lack of any real annoyance in his tone makes his words land more as a joke.

“You’re in our home,” Sirius fires back without missing a beat.

That’s it— you lose it. Laughter bubbles out of you, breaking through the tension that had knotted your shoulders all evening. Sirius smirks triumphantly at your reaction, his arm pulling you closer, while Regulus just groans again, throwing himself back against the couch with dramatic flair.

In this moment, as the three of you laugh together, the anxiety about meeting the Black family fades ever so slightly. 

It will return, but for now, there’s only warmth, humor, and the feeling that maybe— just maybe —you can get through this together.

 Hopefully…

[kayfabe-is-king]

Maybe the House of Black should adopt Darby. Lord knows they need a pet and I'm pretty sure he's house broken.

[liv45no]

Sirius, brushing his hair: ...98, 99, 100!

Regulus: you missed eleven numbers.

Sirius: I don’t need to be good at math. I have BEAUTIFUL hair.

Regulus: that’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.

[randommmthoughts]

When Harry was eleven years old and had just received his invitation to Hogwarts, James had sat him down when Regulus was away. About sex, thought Harry. He knew what it was, he didn't need a lecture about it.

But James began about something way more sirious. He told Harry that in some households, parents were different. That in some households, parents didn't love their children, but were cruel en demanding. That some parents didn't just send their children to their room when they did something wrong, but hurt them. Harry's father knew it was a heavy topic for such a young child, but it was very imporant.

James explained to him what was the best coure of action if he ever suspected someone he knew had troubles at home. How to recognise that. How to be there for them, not even seeking ways to fix it, but to primary just confort them. How that could be the difference for them.

Harry was filled with confusion after the talk and it wasn't until he got older and noticed that Regulus and Sirius never talked about their parents and both had similair looking scars. It was then that he realised how important that topic had been for his father, and how important his father had been for the Black brothers.

[stareggie]

and if i said regulus’ first word was sirius-

[lilyflowerpot]

is the marauders fandom still kicking?

[vomits0cutely]

Sirius: you’ve always been jealous of me!

Regulus: jealous of what? Of your lack of responsibility? Your immaturity? Your total disregard for other people's feelings?

Regulus: your lack of any critical thinking? Your ignorance? Your unawareness to anyone but yourself?

[siriusblack-the-third]

Lets talk about Walburga

Specifically, lets talk about her thoughts on blood purity, her sons, the Blood War, and Voldemort.

A few canon points to keep in mind before we go forward with this little thing:

Walburga is a year older than Tom Riddle

The only Black sister in school when Sirius attended Hogwarts was Narcissa, who is four years older than him.

Nymphadora Tonks is 13 or 14 years younger than Sirius. We're not given her exact date of birth but she was born in 1973 while Sirius was born on 3rd November, 1959.

(everything underneath is a mix of canon and headcanon)

Walburga was a member of the House of Black, a House that was akin to magical Royalty, almost. Their magical lineage could be traced back several centuries, and their money was older still. She was born into wealth, and she married into wealth.

Blood purity, for her, was absolute. You were either a pureblood, or you were not. It did not matter to her if all your grandparents or great grandparents had magic; if you had non-magical ancestors, you were not pureblood. The Blacks were as pure of blood as it could get. She would live with the fact that they had to rub elbows with people of blood that was not pure, of course, because that was how the world worked, and she knew nothing could be done about it. It something existed, then it was most probably meant to exist, she thought, and that was it for her. She thought those of "dirty" blood to be beneath her, but she did not begrudge them their existence. Let them live their pathetic lives, she thought, and I will live my life.

She was for the most part, a live and let live sort of person.

That is, until the appearance of the new upstart fancying himself as the new Dark Lord, who promised to make the magical world pure and unsullied by muggle influence once again. He promised supremacy to those of ancient heritage, promised them wealth and riches and importance.

Walburga was not an idiot. Far from it. She was a Black, in everything that she did. Blacks had wealth, and riches, and importance. Besides, she recognised an old school mate no matter how many changes their face had gone through, and when she saw his face for the first time, she only thought one thing: dirty blood.

Thomas Marvolo bloody Riddle.

She knew him, of course. He had been two years her junior in Hogwarts— scrawny eleven year old Tom who surprised everyone when he sorted Slytherin, because nobody knew his ancestry and he definitely did not look like a pureblood. Back then, Walburga had been sure to mention in earshot of a few gossipy housemates that even the Weasleys did not look pure of blood, and yet they had one of the cleanest pedigrees of Britain.

That had protected Thomas for a while— exactly long enough for Walburga to do a little digging, and she had scoffed at what had been found.

Slytherin. Thomas was a direct descendant of Slytherin.

That did not mean much, sadly.

His mother had been a squib, his uncle a murderer, and his father a filthy muggle. Thomas was from an old family, yes, but he was not pureblood.

And so, when Thomas Riddle came knocking in 1971, calling himself Voldemort, asking her to join his foolish cause of exterminating mudbloods, demanding that she bow down to him... she laughed in his face.

She bowed to no one. She was Walburga Black, wife of Orion Black, of the purest line in all of Europe. How dare this upstart demand anything of her, let alone demand that she bow to him? Ridiculous. She laughed in his face, and told him to take his illogical, irrational war somewhere else.

"You, Thomas? You will wage a war on Mudbloods?" She asked him, a small smile curving over her dark red lips and amusement dripping from every pronounced syllable, and Voldemort bristled with rage. "Will it end with you committing suicide, then, seeing as your blood is as dirty as it can possibly get?"

That night ended in a legendary duel— Voldemort escaped Grimmauld Place with several injuries and the threat of annihilation if he ever set foot in Walburga's house again.

And then Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor.

It was a shock to her heart— her boy, her firstborn, the scion of the House of Black. He was fraternizing with mudbloods and inferior beings, and Walburga did not like it one bit. At least that Potter boy was a fine choice for a friend; his parents were pure of blood and upheld traditions, coming from the Peverell line. A fine choice, if not the first that Walburga would have made.

And then he started toeing the line. Sirius lashed out, yelled at her, ignored her, scowled at her and Orion. And yet, she loved him. She also hated him. He was so much like her and Orion— headstrong, stubborn, brilliant, arrogant, intelligent. Powerful, as a Black should be. He was the perfect Black. The perfect heir.

What a shame, thta he did not listen to her, that he did not take her advice. No matter, she would ensure his obedience.

As for Regulus, well... He was enamoured with this Lord Voldemort.

Walburga did not approve. She did not approve at all. The man was insane, he did not have pure blood, and he certainly was idiotic if he though the world would be a utopia if the lesser people did not exist. Extermination was a foolish quest, even stupider when undertaken by someone of such inferior blood, and she loathed that Regulus would willingly bow to anyone.

Regulus was her son. A son of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. How dare he bow to someone? How dare he forsake his family name in favour of kneeling at someone's feet and kissing the hem of some mudblood monster's robes? How dare he disgrace the name of the House of Black so, submitting to inferior beings?

Walburga did not care that Bellatrix had done the same. Bellatrix was married. She was a member of the Lestrange family now, she could do whatever the bloody hell she wanted. She disapproved of Bella's choice, of course. She disapproved greatly. This.. this Death Eater business was as foul as that idiot Andromeda running off with that mudblood and bearing his child. Narcissa, despite her good sense to not bow to Voldemort, was still hopelessly in love with that peacock Lucius who was most definitely a Death Eater. Walburga disapproved. And yet, she was not either of their's mother, and she did not give a hippogriff's tit what any of those silly girls did.

Regulus, however, was a son of the main line. He should not be dreaming of bowing to anyone. Weak, foolish child, fantasising about kissing the hem of the robes of Thomas bloody Riddle. How dare he dishonour the dignity of the House of Black? How dare he insult their Noble name? Foolish, idiot, weak child.

She was sure the Mudblood upstart was laughing at her, wherever he was. He took her child.

And then Sirius ran away.

She did not like admitting that it was her fault, in part. She knew better than anyone how difficult it was to change a Black's mind once an opinion had been solidified. She was a Black, she knew how stubborn they could be. And yet, she pushed and pushed and pushed, and Sirius snapped. She should have taken a more delicate approach. But she had been foolish, and then she dealt with the consequences by blasting her darling son's name off the Tree, screams falling from her lips and tears from her eyes.

Regulus took the Dark Mark.

Walburga stopped speaking with him.

She did not speak to him until his death, which she was informed about by Kreacher. Kreacher, who was forbidden from giving her, or anyone else, the full details.

Two months later, Death came to collect Orion as well.

It was not long after that Walburga succumbed to madness. There was only so much loss one could take, and she had taken more than anyone. Her sons, her husband, everything... gone.

Was it any surprise, that she went mad in the last years of her life?

.

Tags (I hope you don't mind): @plecotusauritus @in-flvx @strwbi-laces @roalinda @mycupofrum

[questintheskies]

[tatiablack]

I just got my first Kudos on Ao3 and I know this might sound ridiculous but it made me so happy 😭 writing fanfic has always been something I wanted to try but I was afraid that I’m not good enough. Thank you to everyone who liked my fic so far, I’m happy in the Marauders fandom and I’d love to make more friends if yall have a space for me ❤️🫶🏻

[kayfabe-is-king]

Y’all I have already watched Julia’s promo ten times. Hands down one of the best I’ve seen on AEW.

I think Julia is going to come back and remind The House of Black of their dark purpose.

[raekensluver]

beyond the horcrux

description: regulus black's death wasn't the happy ending you had asked for together.

pairing: regulus black x fem!reader

contains: angst, regulus' death, talks of the first wizarding war.

song rec: youth by: daughter- "shadows settle on the place that you left, our minds are troubled by the emptiness"

w.c: 1.4k

an: i'm sorry. i can't seem to stop writing angsty fics...

the room was filled with a suffocating silence, the kind that follows a storm. the curtains danced a solemn waltz in the early morning breeze, their shadows playing across the bare floorboards like ghosts of forgotten memories. the sun had not yet fully risen, but the faint light seeping through the windows painted the room in a cold, pale glow.

your eyes fluttered open, the heaviness of sleep clinging to your lashes like a veil. for a moment, you allowed yourself to believe it was just another ordinary morning. but the emptiness beside you was a stark reminder of the nightmare that had become your reality. the bed, once a sanctuary of warmth and love was now a cold, unyielding witness to your grief. regulus' side remained untouched, the sheets still held the faint scent of him, but the warmth had long dissipated.

with a deep, shuddering breath, you sat up, pushing the covers away. your eyes fell upon his rings on the bedside table, their gleaming surfaces mocking the emptiness of the room. they were a symbol of a promise now shattered, a future lost to the darkness. the weight of his absence pressed down on you, a physical ache that no charm or potion could ever soothe.

you swung your legs over the side of the bed, feeling the coldness of the floorboards beneath your bare feet. each step you took towards the window was a silent battle against the tears that threatened to spill. as you reached the sill, you pushed the curtains aside and gazed out into the dawning world. the sun was peeking over the horizon, painting the sky with strokes of pink and gold, a stark contrast to the bleakness that filled your heart.

the house was eerily quiet without regulus' comforting murmurs and the patter of his footsteps. it was a stark reminder of the life you had planned together, a life that was now as elusive as a wisp of smoke in the wind. you felt a pang of anger mingle with your sorrow. how could he have been so reckless? so stubborn? but you knew it was his fierce loyalty that had driven him to make that fateful choice.

you padded into the bathroom, the coldness of the tiles sending a shiver down your spine. the reflection in the mirror was a hollow-eyed stranger, a mere shadow of the woman you once were. you reached for the faucet and the water that filled the sink washed away the last remnants of sleep. as you splashed the cold liquid onto your face, you tried to gather the strength to face the day ahead.

the house felt like a tomb, each room a testament to the love you had shared. you wandered through the hallways, tracing your fingers over the photographs that lined the walls, pausing at the one of you and regulus, smiling at the camera. the joy in his eyes was palpable, and you wished with all your might that you could turn back time to that moment, to whisper in his ear and change his fate.

in the kitchen, you found the note he had left you, the ink smudged from your own tears. It was a simple message, yet it held the weight of his sacrifice. "i had to go," it read. "for you, for us, for everyone. i'll come back to you, i promise." but the empty chair at the table was a grim rebuttal to his words, a silent sentinel of his absence.

you made a cup of tea, the warmth of the mug a poor substitute for the warmth of his touch. each sip brought a bitterness that mirrored the taste of regret lingering in your mouth. you had tried to dissuade him, had begged him not to go. but his conviction had been unshakeable. he had to destroy the dark lord's locket.

you took the note with you into the living room, curling up on the couch where you had spent countless evenings with regulus, talking about your dreams and fears. the fireplace was cold, the hearth a silent sentinel of the warmth that used to fill the room. the ashes of past fires whispered of a time when hope had not been so distant.

as you sat there, the quietness of the house grew louder, each tick of the grandfather clock echoing through the emptiness like a mournful heartbeat. you knew you couldn't stay in this state of suspended animation forever. there were things to do, and decisions to make. but the thought of facing the world without him was as daunting as staring into the gaping maw of the veil.

you thought back to the moments of joy you had shared, the laughter that had once filled this space. the memory of your engagement was particularly vivid. his nervous smile as he slipped the ring onto your finger, the way your heart had soared when you realized the depth of his love. you had dreamed of a simple life together, free from the shackles of his family's legacy.

the two of you had talked endlessly about your future, about the children you would have, the adventures you would share. you had picked out names, painted mental images of a cozy cottage with a garden where your love could bloom without the shadow of the dark lord looming over it. but now, those dreams were as fragile as the porcelain figurines on the mantel, shattered beyond repair.

regulus had been so determined to leave his mark on the world, to break free from the chains of his family's fate. he had wanted to be remembered as a hero, not just as the younger brother of sirius black. the irony was not lost on you that he had found his redemption in the very act that had cost him his life.

the wedding plans lay scattered across the coffee table, a bittersweet testament to a future that would never be. the parchment invitations, now just a cruel reminder of what was to come. the guest list, with names of friends and family members who would now be attending a funeral instead of a celebration. the color swatches for the bridesmaid dresses, the menu choices, the seating chart – all of it now felt like a macabre joke played by a twisted fate.

you picked up a quill, the nib hovering over the parchment as you contemplated writing to the guests. but what could you say? that the groom was not coming back? that the love of your life had been claimed by the very darkness he sought to destroy? the ink remained untouched as you set the quill down, the words too painful to form.

the house-elf, kreacher, shuffled into the room, his eyes red and swollen from his own silent mourning. he had been with the black family for generations and had seen the worst of them. but regulus had been different, kinder. he had treated kreacher with respect, and in return, the elf had been fiercely loyal. now, he too bore the weight of his master's loss.

"missus," he croaked, his voice cracking with emotion. "breakfast is ready."

you looked up at him, the sadness in his eyes mirroring your own. "thank you, kreacher," you whispered, the words feeling heavy in your mouth. you had to keep going, for both of you. you had to find a way to navigate the minefield of your shattered life.

with a nod, you followed him into the dining room. the table was set for one, a single plate of toast and jam laid out with meticulous care. it was a stark reminder of the void that now existed where regulus should have been. you took a seat, more out of habit than hunger, and nibbled at the food. each bite tasted like ashes.

the day stretched out before you, an endless sea of empty hours to be filled with sorrow. but as you pushed the food around your plate, you felt a flicker of something else: resolve. regulus had died for a cause, and you would not let his sacrifice be in vain. you couldn't bring him back, but you could honor his memory by living the life he had fought for.

edited 8.24.24

[uh-oh-no]

just a random hc

reggies magic was easy to feel when he got upset or angry, his magic a visible to those around him and it scared people. He was emotionless at Hogwarts, always, and he would easily show his feelings through magic and intimidate people with it.

Sirius was always happy and behind a mask, like reg but a different kind of mask, he was reckless and kind with first years and always easy to read, at least what he wanted you to see. But there are few people who have felt Sirius' magic and it's terrifying. A joyfully boy turned into a robot and magic so powerful it feels like your drowning.

Walburga felt it once. She had tried to hit regulus with a crucio and got blasted through a wall and the room destroyed and flames flickering at every flamable surface. Sirius was only 14. And he could have killed her if he wanted to. But Sirius is not a murderer. Somehow not to her. She might hate him and he might hate her, but she has scared him to much.

And that's how the Black family works.

[stareggie]

reg, ur sirius is showing…

[manwrre]

every time i’m reading a hp fic and they mention regulus and kreacher, my chest hurts because i love them your honor. they mean the world to me. a boy and his fucking house elf have killed me, i keep thinking about that ‘my baby my baby you’re my baby’ song by mitski and listen, i know it’s mainly fanon but they’re everything TO ME