~Not the one to blame~

•Regulus Black/ female Gryffindor oc•

One would think that Regulus would be the one to inevitably ruin a relationship. Yet, on a particular rainy, Sunday evening, the stars are gonna prove the exact opposite

°Angst, break up (once again featuring Regulus, it's a coincidence, i swear), smoking (don't smoke kids, it's not cool), screaming and shouting and crying and all these positive things :)°

An: I haven't posted a chapter on here in AGES so hello, how are you??? I felt inspired to write something in English, which of course is not as good as my Greek ones because English is not my first language, yet i tried my best. If you liked it and want more chapters in English, let me know!! Enjoy <<<3

He didn't like being alone, or waiting, but there he was, his back leaning against the cold brick wall, a cigarette hanging from his lips. The sound of rain and his shoe tapping rhythmically on the floor only inclined his nervous anticipation.

Indeed, deep down, he knew something was going on. Something wrong. What other reason would the girl have invited him for, on a Sunday evening, outside the Hogwarts library? Helpless, with hope being the only thing he could afford, he stood there, waiting to see her face, smiling. Yes, that would be a good indication, unlike the bad omens he had witnessed all the way from the Slytherin dorms to the library. Black cats, black crows, black skies. Everything was black, including her eyes.

There she was. Dressed in colors, the Gryffindor burgundy and some blue jeans, yet no trace of  smile. Her steps were short, sharp, nervous, certain. She had a very specific thing in her mind, and at that moment, he felt his eyes watering, because he already knew what would soon happen.

She stood before him and placed a peck on his lips, quick, as if it was a mundane handshake she had to perform with an acquaintance out of obligation. He attempted to make it last a little longer, but failed. 

"Hi", she forced a smile, but that didn't count, really. He exhaled the smoke, dropped the cigarette on the floor and smashed it with his shoe. McGonagall would find out, sooner or later, but he couldn't care less at the moment.

"Hey." His answer was blunt. He wouldn't uncover how scared he was. How much he cared. Besides, had he been indifferent, he wouldn't have stubbed out his cigarette.

"How are you?"

"Good. How are you?"

"Fine. Just fine". She was fidgeting, picking on her fingernails, bitting them, not uttering a word. He did what he hated most. He wasn't willing to beg for an utterance. When it finally came, his surprise almost made his facade drop, yet he was resilient enough.

"Can you light me one?" She motioned towards the fallen soldier, and Regulus nodded, silently took the pack out and handed her one cigarette. She put it between her pink lips and he lit it up, looking into her eyes. Dark, illuminated by the lighter's fire, so beautifully bleak, focused on the cheap cigarette. She exhaled the smoke, and with that sigh, it was as if she returned to her peculiar self Regulus was so familiar with.

"You said you'd quit it, ", those words he couldn't hold back. One promise she kept breaking, for evermore.

"Yeah i did. But I didn't. I don't want to," she shrugged.

"It's bad for you."

"I don't give a fuck. Mind your own business. You're doing precisely the same thing," her reply was defensive, as per usual. For the last month, at least. 

"It's not the same."

"Why not? You're allowed to do harmful things and I'm not?"

"Forget it." he shook his head. He had already beaten her. They both knew it, but she would never admit it. Neither would she spare him, eventually. He just kept wondering what was taking her so long to push the knife in. His pale flesh was soft and exposed before her cold, ruthless hands. And much like a sadistic hunter, she was taking her sweet time with her prey, messing around with it, making it wish all of this would soon end and the inevitable would finally be sealed.

"That's what you're always saying. Dismissing everything I say whenever I'm challenging you."

"That's bullshit and you know it!"

"Of course, there goes Regulus again, with his illuminating replies!"

"Will you shut up for a minute!" He screamed, his face almost red from frustration. This outburst was effective enough, the girl stopped talking. She inhaled the smoke deeply, let it swim in her lungs, hopefully calming her down. Just what Regulus longed for. So he followed the example she set.

"What are you doing here?" He inquired, after he regained his calmness.

"Trying to talk to you."

"About?"

She fell silent, once again, smoking, gazing thoughtfully at the floor. He almost grew angry again. Almost, before realising how tired he was. Of her, of himself, of everything. These past few weeks have been hell. What he hated the most was that Barty was right. He knew what he was getting into from the very start, yet ignored every sign.

Barty had warned him about the girl. She herself had as well. Not as deliberately as his friend, but still in an adequate manner. She had, what people called, problems. Regulus didn't mind. He was carrying some baggage himself, after all. He was willing to stand by her, help her however he could, but she had no demand, let alone desire, for him to do so. She rarely talked with him about anything that was going on in her mind. There was no need to do so, nothing was visible enough at the start, before she grew tired of hiding everything. That was when Regulus lost a part of himself, within that tide of anger, and pity, and uncertainty. He was tired of walking on eggshells, of being interrogated every time he went out or received a letter, of begging her for an entrance ticket to her heart, of craving her despite everything she was putting him through.

"You're being unfair."

"What do you want me to do?" She raised her eyebrows provocatively.

"Do it now. We both know what you want, so do it. Say it."

"You're nuts."

"No, you are!" He shouted, motioning his hand towards her, his cigarette tangled between his fingers, so that through the smoke, he couldn't see her clearly. He never could.

"You called me here to talk and now you're mute! So do talk!"

"I'm breaking up with you! Here, are you happy now?" She kept her voice as high as his, and Regulus chuckled at himself, thinking about how strategically she planned this "date" on a Sunday evening when no-one would be out.

"You're sick. You really are," he spoke quiter, truly disappointed. She exceeded all expectations. She really was heartless, actually, far beyond it. Insulting. Not a single peck of sympathy, just pure irritation and screaming. Maybe it was for the better, a reminder, a friendly nudge on his shoulder that this breakup was for the better.

"You're the one to speak," she muttered, causing his blood to boil.

"Yes, yes I am. At least admit it. You are not..." He took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts, construct them in a way that would not strike her and aggravate her irritation. Even after everything, he cared about her, which thought made him mad.

"I'm not what? The perfect girlfriend? I know that! Okay? I'm trying my best!" she said, her black eyes watery. Regulus almost took pity on her, almost hugged her, almost threw his cigarette on the floor. Almost.

"Look. I want you. I want you so much it's driving me mad. But... You're a liability. You're like a heavy weight on my chest that won't let me breathe."

A tear run down her cheek, and she rushed to dry it with her sleeve, before a second one and a third followed and she quit. She was crying quietly, proud as always, hurt, disturbed. He couldn't bear to stand before her, leaving her helpless, but when he approached her and his naked fingers grazed her sweater, she pulled away.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I did this to us," she spoke, and at that moment he felt as helpless as he had some moments before, waiting for her to arrive. She looked like a child, bruised and weathered and he felt so sorry for every word he screamed at her, all the poison he spat on her, even if he meant them at the moment and probably still would the next morning and a week after.

"No, I'm sorry," he said, but she shook her head and took a step back.

"You have nothing to be sorry about. Goodbye Regulus." A sorrowful smile appeared on her tearful face, such a melancholic blend with her red, swollen eyes and lips. She turned her back on him, on them, and walked away, her steps heavy and quick, as if she wished to vanish in an instant.

And so helpless, he stood there, watching her leave, all by himself, waiting for her to disappear behind the corner.