Regulus A Black

He didn’t think he had a kid. Not at all. Much less with a girl he had a situationship with when he was seventeen.

He was 32 now, driving to the foster care place to pick up a child that was apparently his. He had been informed of this fact and had sent in DNA for a test after the woman, Lindsay, had gotten arrested and immediately spewed out that Regulus was the father. Turns out DNA tests were a match so…sigh.

He got there after a decently long drive. He went in, and spoke to a worker assigned to his child. Kathlynn. They were damaged, it seemed, living with nothing but an alcoholic mother who brought a new man home every week. The same mother who admitted to “forgetting” to feed her child.

Now he was driving home, a quiet fifteen-year-old in the back seat clutching their bag. They were quiet…too quiet. Even at the facility, they barely looked at him. They made themselves small, almost as if they wanted to disappear. He didn’t like it. What had that bloody woman done?

“Would you like to listen to the radio? It’s too quiet, hm?” Regulus said, looking into the rear view mirror.