Walburga and Orion Black were never in love. They were in an arranged marriage, as were the pureblood customs, and not a month later had been asked for an heir. Lucky for them, their first born was a boy. He had shaggy black hair that resembled more of a dogs' compared to their rigid laid-down styles and eyes as green as sparkling emerald. If only they had known how much of a disappointment he would turn out to them.

They pretended to love the little boy, but how could they truly? For he was not borne of two hearts connected. He was a product of carefully selected breeding. To ensure that the blood that ran through his veins was as pure as innocence itself. As clean as the waters of a fresh spring.

But how could that be possible when those before him were filled with the dirt of guilt? It would not happen, not when his father's father and his mother's mother were evil. Not when they had heinous crimes that sat upon their shoulders, pushing them further into the muddy ground every day.

Ergo, Sirius Orion Black grew without love, but that would not limit the love that he would show to others. In fact, it only seemed to strengthen it. So much so that he would eventually end up dying for love. Love that he fought hard to give and to get.

They showered him with their riches, the only thing that they knew well enough to do. He was raised by elves instead of parents, in a bed with silk sheets that cost more than the average wizarding family's annual income. He had toys that cost hundreds and hundreds of galleons, that could speak and move and brought the idea of imaginary friends to a whole new level.

Yet he was so very lonely. In a cold manor with cold walls and cold portraits that disciplined him on how to walk and talk and breathe and be. Only two years old and he was detached, quiet and seemingly depressed.

So two years after the birth of their heir, Walburga and Orion had another son. And they named him Regulus Arcturus Black. He looked like his brother, but his face was sharper, and his eyes were duller. Almost as if he already knew his cursed fate. And the pureblood that ran through his veins was not molten gold. It did not declare royalty, or wealth. For he was only mortal. And his blood was a deep, tragic, shameful shade of red.

Despite this, he and his brother had a connection that was unusual. They were so very young, but there was true love that was shared between them. Out of all the Blacks, the most ancient and powerful house, they were the only two that could truly be called family.

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All the while, their parents planted little seeds inside their little heads about the outside world. How they were superior, because of their blood. Because of their family tree and their status and their name and a bazillion other factors that contributed to the greatness of these two brothers.

But none of it truly had any effect. Their father shouting ruthlessly at the house elves did not make them any less kind to the magical creatures. Their mother sniffing her nose upwards at any mention of 'muggles' did not make them think twice of the unknown term.

And their love grew.

In spite of this, everything still changed in the year of 1970. When Sirius went to Hogwarts. Disheartened that his brother would be leaving him, Regulus was mellow, a mirror image of two-year old Sirius. It was unimaginable, how the two brothers were so alike in looks and behaviour yet so very different.

He waited eagerly for mail from the castle, rushing excitedly to any owls that he saw tapping at windows. It wasn't until one day that he was summoned into his father's study by a house elf did he know what had become of his older sibling. He sat on a chair far too big for him, sitting on his hands to avoid fidgeting, as it was not seemly of such highly members of society.

His father had dark, scary eyes, and you could never look into them long enough to determine what colour they were. "Your brother is a traitor." He had told Regulus, who immediately tried to protest but was shut down as his father yelled violently. "He is a traitor! A shame upon the House of Black!" Regulus blinked rapidly. It was the first time his father had ever shouted at him. In regards to anything.

He would only trust the words from his own brother, so after escaping from his father's bitter clutches, he ran to his room and wrote a letter to Sirius. Smiling faintly, he sent it away using one of the owls.

Two weeks later, and he did not have a reply. Assuming that Sirius was rather busy just starting a new chapter of his life, or that the letter may have fallen off the owl's leg, Regulus paid no heed and wrote another letter, this time securing it twice around the owl.

After two weeks, two months, then twenty letters later, Regulus gave up. It was at this time that the words that never seemed to affect him started to bleed into his ears. It was at this time, without the company of his dear brother, that Regulus Arcturus Black was corrupted.

And when his brother eventually left the family home to go and be safe with his friends... that was when all hope was lost for his counterpart, who looked like him but with a sharper face and duller eyes and sadder thoughts and no friends. It was when Sirius left that his younger brother's heart finally broke. His father always preached to him, about family, and how the Blacks' were connected by their blood. Their pure, pure, pure blood. That this blood was the only thing that made people family, and that he had lucky stars for him to be born into such a prestigious one.

But if they were family by blood, then Regulus was entirely sure that it had long gone cold.