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whitechapelTitle: Well-Organized Minds
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: Gen
Characters: Regulus Black and assorted contemporaries
Warnings: dark themes; not Book 7 compliant
Length: 533 words
Summary: He tries his best to make the world make sense. [originally posted 2005.08.10]
He found that he coped with problems better if he pretended they were questions. He would write the question at the top of a sheet of parchment in elegant, tidy handwriting, purposely mimicking the hand Professor McGonagall used on the chalkboard. Questions were easier to tackle because they had one end open, something he could tie up and mend if he used the right knot. Even if it didn’t organize things, it gave the problem the potential for order, and that in itself was comforting.
He started in first year, when every time he accosted Sirius outside his common room his brother would wave him off. “Later, Regulus, I’m doing something with James today.” The tassels on Sirius’s Gryffindor scarf flounced a bit as he walked away.
Regulus uncapped his ink bottle in the library and wrote across the top of a page in his journal. How can I be more fun than James Potter? he scribbled. He made a list with bullet points and drew himself a chart; it made him feel better to have a plan of action, even if he knew on some level that it wasn’t going to work.
This method worked fine for little problems, of course. He made little charts and diagrams for anything that made him nervous if he paid attention to his feelings. When he was afraid he would fail a test, he made a checklist of all the things he’d studied and wrote himself a tidy list explaining why he didn’t need to worry. When he wanted to make friends with someone but didn’t feel he had the nerve to talk to them, he wrote down everything he knew about them and circled all the things they had in common to show himself how easy it was to strike up a conversation. It was soothing, in a way; he lulled himself into thinking that as long as there was a question, he could give it an answer.
He woke up one Christmas Eve to find that his brother’s place at the table was empty. His parents said nothing; when Regulus pushed open Sirius’s bedroom door later he found the shelves bare and the bed stripped, as though it was a guest room waiting to be cleaned. He locked himself in his own room and made a list of ways to make his brother come home, trying not to notice the little jump the walls gave when his mother blasted Sirius’s name off the tapestry downstairs.
When he left school and his cousin offered to help him sign on with the people she worked for, he didn’t think very much before he said yes; she told him it was for the good of the family, and he had no reason to disbelieve her.
It was only a few weeks later that he unrolled a sheet of parchment at his desk and kept his hand steady long enough to write across the top of the page. How can I fix this without getting myself killed? the ink gleamed in the candlelight.
He’d written down dozens of useless, impossible ideas before, without looking directly at his quill hand, he scratched out the second half of the sentence.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: Gen
Characters: Regulus Black and assorted contemporaries
Warnings: dark themes; not Book 7 compliant
Length: 533 words
Summary: He tries his best to make the world make sense. [originally posted 2005.08.10]
He found that he coped with problems better if he pretended they were questions. He would write the question at the top of a sheet of parchment in elegant, tidy handwriting, purposely mimicking the hand Professor McGonagall used on the chalkboard. Questions were easier to tackle because they had one end open, something he could tie up and mend if he used the right knot. Even if it didn’t organize things, it gave the problem the potential for order, and that in itself was comforting.
He started in first year, when every time he accosted Sirius outside his common room his brother would wave him off. “Later, Regulus, I’m doing something with James today.” The tassels on Sirius’s Gryffindor scarf flounced a bit as he walked away.
Regulus uncapped his ink bottle in the library and wrote across the top of a page in his journal. How can I be more fun than James Potter? he scribbled. He made a list with bullet points and drew himself a chart; it made him feel better to have a plan of action, even if he knew on some level that it wasn’t going to work.
This method worked fine for little problems, of course. He made little charts and diagrams for anything that made him nervous if he paid attention to his feelings. When he was afraid he would fail a test, he made a checklist of all the things he’d studied and wrote himself a tidy list explaining why he didn’t need to worry. When he wanted to make friends with someone but didn’t feel he had the nerve to talk to them, he wrote down everything he knew about them and circled all the things they had in common to show himself how easy it was to strike up a conversation. It was soothing, in a way; he lulled himself into thinking that as long as there was a question, he could give it an answer.
He woke up one Christmas Eve to find that his brother’s place at the table was empty. His parents said nothing; when Regulus pushed open Sirius’s bedroom door later he found the shelves bare and the bed stripped, as though it was a guest room waiting to be cleaned. He locked himself in his own room and made a list of ways to make his brother come home, trying not to notice the little jump the walls gave when his mother blasted Sirius’s name off the tapestry downstairs.
When he left school and his cousin offered to help him sign on with the people she worked for, he didn’t think very much before he said yes; she told him it was for the good of the family, and he had no reason to disbelieve her.
It was only a few weeks later that he unrolled a sheet of parchment at his desk and kept his hand steady long enough to write across the top of the page. How can I fix this without getting myself killed? the ink gleamed in the candlelight.
He’d written down dozens of useless, impossible ideas before, without looking directly at his quill hand, he scratched out the second half of the sentence.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-11 02:15 am (UTC)he wrote down everything he knew about them and circled all the things they had in common to show himself how easy it was to strike up a conversation.
WELL I SEE YOU ARE TRYING TO RIP MY HEART OUT. >:( Dude, I am so immensely fond of your Regulus.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-11 03:44 am (UTC)