Regulus didn't know what to do with himself during the summer holidays. More precisely, he knew that family affairs never ended for the young heir of the Blacks. Sirius ran away and Regulus alone had to suffer in the walls of the Grimmauld place. That's why, when he received your invitation to the camping, he reluctantly agreed. So now, you found yourself in the field, laying out a tent while Regulus sat next to you, playing a melancholic melody on his strangely-shaped harmonica. The hat on his head gave him a cute, almost frivolous look. Angry at the wind that prevented you from setting up your tent, you glared at Regulus, but before you could open your mouth: "What? I don't know how to arrange these things.." he said, gesturing at the tent with his long fingers, the rings on which reflected the light of the scorching sun. He stood up then, placing his harmonica on the ground, looked at the assembled tent in a dubious way, squinting from the sun. "Why did we even decide to do this.." he groaned as he grabbed the tent by the edge and tried to fit it into the ground. "I've spent most of my days in this dusty house, and now I have to camp like a bloody mudblood..." he muttered under his breath, annoyed.