Chapter Text
Not even a month into his sixth year at Hogwarts and Regulus Black was certain that he was on the cusp of absolutely losing it.
Sirius had run away during the last Summer holidays and everything fell onto him.
It was his job to be the heir. To bear the Dark Mark within a year's time or less.
Despite the added pressure that Regulus now bore on his shoulders, he was glad that his brother had escaped. He only wished that Sirius hadn’t condemned him to the life of an heir in the process.
Tiredly, he sits by one of Hogwarts grand windows, the moon lighting the area a little bit. The glass of the window was stained; be it by colour or years without maintenance. It was in one of the castles closed off hallways, a hallway that no one was supposed to be in yet Regulus had been finding himself in there since his third year.
An old and tattered notebook sits in his lap, opened to a coffee stained page with illustrations decorating it.
The sketch was not finished but, aside from the recent coffee stains, it looked quite well done; ideas and pencil mixing together.
It was the beginnings of a skull, much like the one that will soon be branded onto his arm. But this one does not have a snake coming out of it, rather it has flora coming out of it; delicate flowers, vines, leaves.
His pencils were worn, the paints on them peeling off. Even still, the charm on them keeps it so they don’t have to be sharpened and they remain their full length.
Regulus takes a moment to look out the window and gaze at the stars above, small flecks of light in the dark abyss.
His gaze flicks to the brightest star in the sky, thoughts drifting to his brother. He wants so desperately to hate his brother but he doubts he ever will be able to.
…
Sirius Black was not known for being quiet. It was not who he was.
Yet, many nights have been spent with him on the window sill of the year seventh Gryffindor boys dormitory, eyeing the stars outside.
Whilst his friends gather on one of the beds, a small pile of different sorts of wizarding and muggle treats between them.
Sirius can hear them laughing, conversing with each other about small things. It puts a small smile on his face, glad that they’re happy.
His head rests on the cool glass and he looks at a particular star.
I’m sorry, Regulus.