Disclaimer: I'm not claiming Regulus as my own, although that would be nice. Unfortunately he is the literary property of J.K Rowling.

Author's note: I've been trying to get to the bottom of Regulus' character lately, and thought I would write a little sketch, he intrigues me.

This is written for everyone at the Character Sketches Forum for their constant support and general awesome-ness.

The Lives of Others.

When you woke up that morning you couldn't tell if the sky was blue or grey, the clouds where blue and the sky was grey.

(Sirius has grey eyes)

The water in the shower was too hot, your bare feet on the tiles too cold.

You stretched and yawned on the faded sofa, glancing at tabloid headlines in-between mouthfuls of milky coffee.

(Tutshill Tornados won against the Appleby Arrows 320-60)

Everything you thought you had, has gone from worse to bad.

You try to eat the porridge that Kreacher has put too much brown sugar in, but it turns to ash on your tongue, a dark grey spreading over your mouth, catching on your insides.

(The dark mark on your arm is grey too)

In between dreaming you followed everyone else, their curses falling from your tongue, their anger spreading through your veins.

And you could not see, could not open your eyes to the despair that surrounded you, to the love that was felt in others hearts, in others open arms.

Walking down dark corridors you listened at keyholes, your ear pressed against the dark wood, gaining glimpses of the lives of others.

You couldn't express your own fears, your own desires in the life that had become a cage.

(the Dark Lord had the key)

Sometimes you felt like a puppet, a wooden doll hung on broken woolen strings, its face painted a different shade than what it really was. Its red lips pouting, its blue eyes imploring.

It was not you.

You danced along an empty road, the streetlights had all gone out, your feet tapping out a tune of lies and deception.

Somewhere along the line, you had lost yourself.