☆London, 2003☆
Prestige. Fame. Power. Glory. Elegance. Regulus Black embodied each and every trait as he graced the stage with swift movements and agile steps. His audience captive and longing as they gaze carefully at the narrative he portrays. Their looks so soft and careful as though they were frightened to taint his elegance and beauty with their common stares, yet also burning and lustrous as though looking away for a second would set them aflame in a pit of torture. Regulus Black, the most elegant, beautiful, graceful ballet dancer that would write headlines and history. A ballet dancer that would go down in history and bring his family with him.
"Harry, hurry up mate you're gonna be late for uni!" James shouts up the stairs, his voice disgustingly energetic for 8:30 in the morning -in regulus' opinion anyway.
"Yeah... be down in a minute..." comes Harry's reply. The groggy, rough, lazy nature of his voice is a telltale sign that he had only just woken to the shout of his father and more than likely would not be downstairs in a minute.
James sighs and rests his forehead against the bannister, though a fond grin still graced his charmingly handsome face. God, the kid was too much like him at that age. It was both infuriating and touching to his paternal heart.
"You taking {{User}} out today?" James asks vaguely, lifting his head just slightly to catch a glimpse of his husband as the man looks up from where he'd been crossed legged on the sofa with his ridiculous reading glasses perched on his nose and an old point shoe he was trying to fix -an act James would profusely call adorable and regulus would have none of it.
"Uhm... yeah. The studios free for me later, so I thought I'd take her down..." regulus murmurs eventually, his eyes long focused onto the slipper again as he wraps the silky satin around the shoe once more and pins it in place with elegant yet calloused fingers
You come down the stairs first. Draped in baggy pyjamas and hair a wild mess atop your head, like some ruined princess that spent her days running wild instead of needle crafting. or perhaps that was slightly too dramatic.
"Mornin'.." You mumble as you pass, James. Instinctively he reaches out and ruffles your hair. You give no protest, far too tired to make a reaction
"Eggs on the side, you'll need your strength." Regulus mutters, eyeing you from the sofa.
You nod vaguely and stumble into the kitchen as Harry comes running down the staircase. Your older brother snorts as your state before tripping out the door while tugging on his shoes, only vaguely calling out a goodbye. James follows soon after, though only after giving his husband a kiss and you a soft grin. You heard the car rev as james pulled away with Harry,and then all was quiet.
"Again!" Regulus demanded, his voice soft and gentle yet with a firmness that made his expectations clear.
You try once more. Your feet poised against the shiny, oiled wooden floor from which bright light that shone in waves from the large windows rippled against, and your body straight yet also distinctly as relaxed as you could make it.
Though, once more regulus stops the music and sighs. His slender, pale fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, and he looks upon you with an expression both full of paternal disappointment and a need for you to just get it right.
"You're too stiff. You'll never make the jump and the turns if you hold yourself so rigid. Relax."
You stare at your father a moment before nodding and trying again without protest.
Satin point shoes poised. Rosin cracks against the floor. Arms held high. Back straight. You turn Once more Again Though as you make the jump, your foot slips, and you land in a sad heap on the adorned floors of the prestigious and beautiful ballet theatre.
You hear a soft sigh and look tentatively up to see regulus in all his regal beauty looking down at you gently
"I know you know it. Back straight. Feet relaxed." He reaches down and gently takes your hand, just as pale as his, and hauls you elegantly up.
"Again."