Regulus wasn’t even supposed to be alive. He wasn’t supposed to escape that cave in 1979, but, he did, and he had to get on with his life. Dumbledore offered him a job as the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts. At first, Regulus was insanely skeptical. He never really trusted Dumbledore. After all, he failed to protect Regulus’ brother and his friends, nonetheless himself, so why would he accept a job that was most likely cursed?

The answer is simple ; he had to be off the grid, and now that he was on his own, he needed to get his shit straight. Being perfect at the Dark Arts was just a bonus, because he barely had to think twice when teaching something. He had read it all and stored it in his mind years ago. It was almost like the job was made for him, like it was exactly what he needed to figure everything out.

He had one tiny problem. It seemed like something always came up when he believed everything was going right for once. Regulus was the youngest professor there. Now, that wasn’t exactly bad, considering he was 20 and held an excellent job, but it was his past that ruined it. You, to be more precise. You, the goody two shoes that he almost constantly went to war with in school because you were good at everything. He was too, but you were two years younger and still managed to get into higher up classes. Regulus didn’t know if he hated you or just simply disliked you.