Drip. Drip. Drip.

A dark haired boy sat by his window, silently watching the raindrops as they hit the pane and slid clumsily down. The clouds outside were festering moodily—much like the thoughts in the boy's mind. It was barely three in the afternoon and already the lamps of Grimmauld Place were lit.

There was a knock on the door and a figure stepped in, silhouetted against the brightly lit hall behind it. "Sirius?" it said uncertainly. Loud voices from outside infiltrated the quiet room. The boy at the window sighed and turned toward the intruder. "Mother wants us to go out to Diagon Alley to buy your school stuff. She invited some of the family." The figure hesitated, its head cocking to the side, as if to look around the unlit room. "It's so dark in here…"

"I'll come down in a bit, Regulus," Sirius said, ignoring his younger brother's last statement, and turned back to the window.

"She's a bit cross because she couldn't find her favorite hat and glove set this morning…" Regulus said nervously. "I think you might want to hurry. You know how mum is with her hats."

Regulus stood for a few moments more, pulling at his trousers, but Sirius continued to ignore him. Unsure of what to do, the boy sidestepped out of the room awkwardly, leaving the door open.

Sirius tried to recollect his thoughts. This was the weather he liked best. Sure it was wet and dismal and good for absolutely nothing fun, but it allowed him to mull things over alone, away from the obscenely overwhelming adoration of his nine year old brother and the constant badgering of his nosy mother. He could sit and lose himself in the rhythm of the raindrops as they beat at his windowpane in a sort of melodic tempo. August rain was the embodiment of despondency, but it seemed to bring to life a part of Sirius that no one else knew about. A secret side. A Secret Sirius. He liked that…

Secret Sirius had been seeing a lot more screen time lately, popping up more frequently to steal the spotlight since he had gotten his Hogwarts letter two weeks ago.

He had been sitting in his room, working on one of the silly projects his mother had thought up for him. For a few years now, he and his brother had been forced to work on a separate project a month. The August assignment was to outline all the major achievements of pureblooded wizards and witches in the past ten decades. He had sighed with relief upon first hearing the nature of this project. Its predecessor was one of the worst to date, no doubt a punishment for playing a prank on his cousin Bellatrix Black by turning her entire gloomy wardrobe salmon pink. The assignment had been to document his great great great grandfather, Phineas Nigellus's biography, which had resulted in a twenty foot roll novella of an assignment. In comparison, a hundred years worth of elitist history was easy work.

Just as Sirius had drawn the very last line of the current year of his painstakingly neat timeline, he found his attention diverted by an impatient tapping at his bedroom window. Outside had been a large ocher owl demanding entrance into his room.

Sirius had sprung from his seat and wrenched the window open excitedly. He received next to no mail other than the Quidditch Weekly. The only 'friends' he had were either his cousins or children of friends of the family, none of whom he spoke to unless he was forced. He had known where the letter was from even before his saw the sealed green wax on the back of the envelope. He had been expecting this letter for weeks.

The owl had flown in through the open window and circled around his room before plopping down onto his green and black checkered bedspread in as much a dignified manner as it could muster. Sirius reached greedily for the envelope and ripped it open, paying no attention to the owl hooting indignantly on his bed. As Sirius unfolded his letter and began reading, his eyes shining like those of most children on Christmas, the owl realized that it would not receive any words of gratitude. It had then spread its wings huffily and took off, cuffing Sirius on the head as it went.

Cursing, Sirius had rubbed his head resentfully, but soon forgot as thoughts flooded his mind. This was his acceptance into Hogwarts. His ticket to freedom. He would soon be packed and off, away from this dreary and demanding life at Grimmauld Place. He would actually have the opportunity to make friends worthy of him. He would be able to learn advanced magic. This was it.

The days that followed had been chaotic, filled with the expected formality of festivities and the like. His mother forced him to sit through four consecutive dinner parties. After the second, he had grudgingly realized that his cunning mother was using his acceptance into Hogwarts to her advantage. It was not to celebrate her darling son's accomplishment—not that there really was much done on his part, other than being born—but to appeal to well known witches and wizards, including the ones she disliked. The hypocrisy of it all had caused Sirius intense nausea, but he had been forced to mask his disgust. This was just the way purebloods handled matters, he figured.

Two days ago, however, the festive air had found itself dissipating a bit. Sirius had figured that he would eventually speak to his father. It seemed logical, but Sirius was unsure about how much he wished for this confrontation to take place.

The last time he had been called personally into his father's study had been when he was six years old. It happened after Sirius had voiced his wish to play with the son of a coworker his father had brought around the Black House as a formality. He figured since the two men were working on some boring legal stuff, it wouldn't hurt to entertain the younger guest. However, while the other man had smiled warmly, Sirius's father had calmly told Sirius to go to his room. He'd done so, knowing better than to argue. Later that night, Sirius had found himself in the eye of the hurricane that was his father—that is, he had seemed calm and collected, but it was evident that there was a storm brewing behind his words. He had quietly explained to Sirius the danger of cavorting with the Muggle-lovers and blood traitors of the world. It was shortly afterward that Sirius and Regulus had been given monthly assignments as part of their intense 'Purist Education'.

The second confrontation did take place, and was equally as terrifying as the first, but this time, Sirius was in for a surprise.

Orion Black was a large man; he was big, but by no means overweight. He was powerfully built and possessed the very aura of a morgue in the midst of a tragedy. His face showed no trace of emotion and rivaled that of a corpse in color, or lack thereof. He spoke only when he deemed it absolutely necessary, otherwise settling for icy silence and communication by means of body language and curt grunts. Sirius was not entirely sure what the man did for a living, but he assumed that it paid well, judging from his well-to-do environment. From what he'd managed to gather from numerous family functions, his father worked for the Ministry of Magic. All else was a mystery.

"Yes, father?" Sirius had asked meekly, as he closed the door of his father's study behind him. The dull thud it made had struck a foreboding chord in Sirius's heart. His father, sitting at a grand desk, had nodded at the chair across from the desk. Sirius had sat, daring not to loiter for even a second.

Sirius had shot a quick glance at his father's face and found that it was shockingly similar to his own except for the eyes. His soft, cloudy grey eyes bore no resemblance to his father's sharp, steely gaze. Realizing that he had been gaping rather rudely, Sirius had then quickly averted his stare to the smooth, polished wood of his father's respective-looking name plate.

"Sirius," his father had begun, pronouncing his son's name roughly, as if it had been many years since he'd exercised his tongue with the word. And this was probably so, Sirius had thought sadly.

"Sirius," he had begun again, after clearing his throat; this time, he had spoken with more clarity. Sirius had dared to look up, while avoiding his father's stern look, unsure of what to think.

"You are the heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black," his father had said. This had been a mere statement of the obvious, but why had it produced a wave of dread that left Sirius slightly lightheaded?

"You are not the first in this family to have been accepted into the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," his father had continued. "Your mother and I are fairly familiar with the procedure and know what to expect. In fact, I myself went to Hogwarts in my youth." Sirius had had to suppress a look of surprise. He had not known this. "This leads me into the topic of houses." He had cleared his throat. "Both of your cousins, Bellatrix and Narcissa, were sorted into the noble house of Slytherin, something which is obviously expected of you."

Sirius had known all of this. Bellatrix was going to be a third year in Hogwarts and Narcissa a second year. But what of their sister, Andromeda? She was a fifth year, and from what Sirius had heard, she was in the Ravenclaw house, which apparently wasn't too bad. Sirius had wanted desperately to ask about the other houses, but he knew how greatly his father detested answering insolent questions.

"Of course, I do not anticipate any trouble with that. You are a slight troublemaker, this is true." Sirius had shifted uncomfortably. He had never thought his father had paid any attention to either him or Regulus. "But, there is no doubt in my mind that you will be sorted into the proper house." There had been no need to clarify which house was, in fact, the proper house. "You are the Black heir, after all. There is no place for you in any of the other houses."

Sirius had kept a poker face, but sweat was gathering at his brow at this point, betraying the anxiety he was undergoing.

His father had plowed on. "I hope you understand all of this, Sirius. Not only do your mother and I rely on you to fulfill your duty, but you have a younger brother to pay mind to as well. One who is, in fact, influenced but your every action, as is the tendency among brothers." Sirius had raised his gaze to find his father's eyes boring into his. "I do not want you to disappoint me," he had said quietly, but clearly.

Sirius had held his gaze, but with tremendous difficulty. He felt that if he were to shift his eyes now, or even blink, he would fail his father, who would consequently lose all faith in Sirius. After what seemed like hours, and after Sirius's eyes had begun to water, his father had relaxed his features.

"We are done," he had then said. "You may go now." Had Sirius's ears been deceiving him, or had he heard approval in his father's voice?

It was now two days later, and Sirius was still thinking about that moment and all the things that had led up to it. He felt an immense amount of pride to have been able to withstand those grueling seconds in his father's study as he fought to maintain his place in his father's eyes. He had succeeded, hadn't he? And he would do anything to uphold it. There was nothing more that Sirius wished for in his life than the praise of his father.

All his life, up until two days prior, Orion Black had virtually ignored Sirius and his brother. They were brought up mainly by their mother and the house elf, Kreacher. For the first time, it seemed, his father had showed interest in his son. It was possible that Sirius's imagination was running wild, but he didn't care. Sirius smiled. It felt wonderful.

The feeling didn't last long, however. A moment later, the smile was wiped off his face as his mother stormed into his room, screaming about his irresponsibility and tardiness.

"Who do you think you are?!" she demanded. "A prince? Do I have to send—" She stopped, her jaw suddenly slack. "Are you drunk?" she asked incredulously. She seemed to be at a loss for words.

Confused, Sirius looked at his reflection in the full length mirror of his closet. Apparently, he had begun dressing, and, lost in his thoughts, he had attempted to squeeze a plaid orange and green sock onto his head, his left boot over his right foot, and a dress shoe on the remaining foot. His robes were also on backwards.

There was a perturbed silence. "Happy Halloween?" Sirius attempted, with a brave smile.

Not amused, his mother's eyes flashed. "You are holding," she hissed, "Us up!" Sirius winced. He never understood why she chose to end almost every one of her sentence with an exclamation point.

"Who do you think we're shopping for? Kreacher?!" she cried, pulling the sock off his head, along with a few strands of hair.

"Ow!" Sirius squealed, and attempted to wriggle away.

"Hold still!" she bellowed, yanking his robes straight. "Eleven years old, school bound, and he can't even be trusted to dress himself! Where in Hell's paradise did I go wrong?!" she cried to no one in particular. Sirius wanted to tell her that hell's paradise was one heck of an oxymoron, but he didn't get the chance to as she began practically asphyxiated him with his own tie.

She kicked his right foot angrily. "Didn't I tell you to get rid of these monstrous things?!" she asked dangerously. Sirius glanced at his right boot. "You look like a damn Muggle jumberlack!"

"Auntie!" called a voice from somewhere downstairs.

"I'm coming, Bella, darling!" Mrs. Black called back in a somewhat nicer tone. She stole one last wrench at his robes—out of spite rather than compassion for his attire—and said, "I'd better see you in the living room in no more than two minutes." With a fierce huff, she stomped out of the room.

Sirius grimaced. Apparently, the merry mood his mother had been in was short-lived. He quickly pulled off his boot and threw it in the back of his closet where its brother lay, and replaced it with his other dress shoe. Those were his favorite boots, made of black steel, passed down to him by his Uncle Alphard. They were coming with him to Hogwarts. There was no way he was getting rid of them.

Another of his uncle's presents to him was a battered grey hat with earflaps and two big, fuzzy balls at top. His mother loathed it and his cousins constantly made fun of him for it, but he adamantly kept it as his allegiance to his favorite relative. That, and he liked the way the balls bounced around, he thought guiltily, glancing around the room as though someone could have heard his thoughts. He jammed it on his head.

In the living room, he found at least fifteen of his relatives milling around. "Some relatives?" he hissed at Regulus. Regulus only shrugged. Just like their mother, Sirius thought, to invite half of the living members of the Black Family Tree on an excursion as insignificant as this one.

Only, it wasn't insignificant, at least not for Sirius. This wasn't his first time in Diagon Alley, but it was the first time he was going there to buy school supplies. Even his cousin, Bellatrix, whom he liked least of all, could not dampen his spirits as she snickered at his hat, asking him if he had strung together a couple of dead rats to make it.

In addition to his relatives, Sirius also noticed two people he had never met before. He frowned. Boring as family functions were, Sirius never forgot a face and its corresponding name. It came with being heir of the Black household. Forgetting a name could result in something as drastic as severed connections with highly esteemed individuals.

"That's Eileen Snape and her son Severus," Bellatrix whispered into Sirius's ear, startling him. He hadn't noticed her creep up on him and cursed himself for having been caught off guard.

"Never heard of him," Sirius said indifferently. "They're pureblood?"

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed. "What kind of question is that? Are you really dense enough to think that your mother would have invited them if they weren't?"

Sirius shrugged. Her tone was irritating him. "No. I just never heard of any Snapes."

"Must be nice strutting about believing that you know everything," she said nastily.

"Must be dreadful doing the same and knowing that you don't."

Bellatrix was seething at this point, but Sirius didn't notice. His attention was on the son of Eileen Snape.

He looked young, most likely Sirius's age, making him a first year in Hogwarts as well. His eyes were darting nervously all around Sirius's living room as though he were afraid that the tacky décor would jump off the walls and floors, and sodomize him viciously..

His eyes caught Sirius's for a second, but rather than forcing them to stay, as Sirius had with is father, he dropped them to the ground immediately. Blood crept into the boy's unhealthy face. His eyes darted back up for a second, as if to see if Sirius was still looking in his direction. Finding that he was, the boy brushed his greasy hair out of his alarmingly dark eyes and attempted a smile.

How weak, thought Sirius. This boy, Severus, was practically clutching his mother's arm like a five year old child. Sirius worked his face into a sneer. Surprised, Severus looked away again, more color flooded is face.

Sirius felt oddly disturbed by the rush of power that had suddenly inundated his body. He thought back to his father. Sirius had just snubbed a lower being. Would he have been proud of his son? Deciding that he would have, Sirius rejected the guilt that was slowly creeping up on him. Besides, apologizing to the weak was not a becoming trait of the heir of the Black House.

"Kreacher," called Mrs. Black sharply. Sirius tore himself away from the sickly looking boy.

The family's house elf crept slowly out of hiding from behind the large black sofa. "Yes, Missus?" the elf said in a humble voice.

"The floo powder," she said, "We're leaving now, hurry up." Kreacher nodded and disappeared. Two seconds later, he returned with a large black container bearing the word 'FLOO' in bold italics.

"Here you are, missus," Kreacher bowed, his forehead hitting the parquet floor, before returning to his previous dominion behind the black sofa.

One by one, the adult's disappeared into the silver and green flames of the fireplace. They were followed by the children, who knew their places, in order of seniority. As Sirius's turn came, his heartbeat quickened. Only two days from now he would be on his way to the almost legendary magical school, away from his repressive family. Sure, he would bump into Bellatrix and Narcissa more than he would please, but this was only a small price to pay. They were not in his year and they would not be in his dormitory.

He was also closing in on his ambition to impress his father. He would do whatever it would take to get his father to smile at him and pat his back as an equal. He would overshadow his brother and all of his cousins, even Bellatrix.

Sirius reached for the floo container and found his hand brushing Severus's. Sirius retracted his hand quickly.

"Sorry," Severus mumbled, taking a step back. His sallow face returned to the pink it had been a few minutes ago.

Sirius stared at him for a moment and shoved the floo container at him without dropping his gaze. Severus took it uncertainly, muttering words of thanks. Regulus stood behind his older brother, watching the episode with interest.

"Go," Sirius demanded angrily, taking the blushing boy by surprise again. Sirius was furious at his own display of weakness.

Severus complied without a word. As soon as the boy disappeared, Sirius grabbed a generous handful of floo powder and shoved the container at his brother.

"Diagon Alley," he said clearly and braced himself for the thrilling spiral through what felt like space and time. He arrived on the other side of the hearth fairly upright and un-sooted, but found himself tripping over a prostrate form in front of the Leaky Cauldron fireplace. Severus Snape, apparently, had a slightly less pleasant trip through what felt like space and time.

Rolling his eyes, Sirius bent over and offered a hand to the fallen and dusty boy, which he gladly accepted. "Thanks," Severus whispered, embarrassed.

Sirius nodded and walked over to his mother, whose expression was wearing a veiled. He heard Regulus stumble out of the fireplace with a muffled, "Oof!" Severus sought out his mother and tried very hard not to look like a cub hiding behind its mother.

"What's wrong, mum?" Sirius asked when his mother didn't say anything.

She gave him a scalding look. "You will not call me that ridiculous mockery of a maternal personage."

"Sorry, Mother," he mumbled and followed her as she all but swept from the room. "Dramatic, isn't she?" he whispered to Regulus, who gave Sirius a look that clearly said, "You shouldn't talk like that." Sirius ignored him.

Diagon Alley, in his father's rare words, was a mishmash of all things magic, taboo, and extraordinary. The description had fascinated Sirius when he first heard it, and it was with high hopes and expectations that he had first visited the Alley when he was five years old. He had waited with bated breath and agonizing impatience as his mother tapped the appropriate bricks and the wall slid back to reveal…

Well. Diagon Alley. He had found it tremendously disappointing. He had frowned upon the teeming crowds and exuberant noise and the general pandemonium of frenzied shoppers.

His mother had been exceptionally pleased with him when he made a face and said, quite succinctly, "It's dirty." She had bought him ice cream with strawberry topping that day, a treat he was rarely allowed to have since a sweet tooth was apparently unbecoming of a person of his status.

But now that he was older, he felt differently. He felt the need to rescind his earlier thoughts because, he decided firmly, Diagon Alley was bloody fantastic. He took in the sights and smells and noises, and thought, how exciting!

One glance at his mother's expression told him that he was grinning in an idiotic and decidedly un-pureblooded fashion. He quickly adopted a somber look, though he couldn't resist bouncing up and down whenever she turned away. He saw Severus give him incredulous looks, but Sirius was too elated to even think of being self-conscious.

"Look, Reg! The Quidditch shop!"

Mrs. Black took a firm hold on Sirius's arm before he could bolt to the shop window. "We do not have time for such nonsense. Now stay by me and do not wander!"

"Yes, Mother," he chirped even as he turned his head as they passed to stare wide-eyed at the brooms on display.

First on the list was books. After much jostling and indignant scoffing, they were finally able to get into Flourish and Blott's. Sirius found himself on the receiving end of many ill-aimed elbows, and swore that he would be back to exact his elbow-y revenge when he was taller. Mrs. Black sniffed daintily.

"Filth and vermin," she spat, and out of the corner of his eye, Sirius saw Severus duck his head. He ignored the nervous looks they were getting and instead pulled Regulus in over the threshold, where he had been standing rather squished between two burley men in plaid robes.

"Auntie Black, Auntie Black!" Bellatrix came puffing into the bookstore, followed closely by Narcissa. Bellatrix rudely pushed aside a four foot tall man holding a five foot tall pile of books, causing him to lose his footing. "Auntie, you will not believe what I have just found!" The small man emitted a resigned squeak and toppled backwards, along with a cascade of hard covered books.

Paying no attention to the bedlam behind her, Bellatrix persisted. "Twillfit and Tattings has an amazing August special that is ending today!"

Mrs. Black was interested. "Go on, girl. What are they selling?"

"Hats!" Bellatrix squealed.

Mrs. Black's eyed lit up immediately. Like a school girl a quarter of her age, she bounced over to Bellatrix. "Show me!"

"But mu- uh, Mother!" Sirius protested.

"What?" she said sharply, not wishing to be separated any longer from the sale of her dreams. "Oh," she said, realizing. "Here's some money. Buy the rest of your things, including your wand and owl." Sirius nodded enthusiastically, taking the money and rocketing off.

"But don't you dare let me catch you buying unnecessary things with that money, you—" but Sirius had already bounded away and did not get to hear exactly what his mother thought he was.

Halfway up the Alley, Sirius realized that he was supposed to be looking after Regulus. He looked behind him but only found a crowd of wizards conversing excitedly about the newest model of the Encase, an enchanted briefcase that could hold an entire office inside itself.

Shrugging, he continued bounding up the Alley toward Ollivander's Wand Shop. He would deal with the repercussions later. Right now, he was free.

Entering the wandmaker's shop, he noticed an immediate change in atmosphere. It was quiet, almost serene in this shop. Sirius walked slowly over to the cluttered desk and rang the bell, gazing all the while at the clusters of boxes on shelves all around him.

"Hm, yes…"

The soft voice made Sirius wheel around to face a man only a few inches taller than him, but sporting so many more years. The pure white of his wiry hair showed it.

What was most curious was this man's gaze. Sirius took an involuntary step back. It was almost as intense as his father's, if not more. But there was something different. It was as if he was searching the depths of Sirius's soul.

The man's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "A Black, are you not?" Sirius nodded apprehensively. This man's demeanor was unnerving.

The man smiled. "I am Mr. Ollivander. I suppose I will have to bring out the wands, now that you are finally here."

Feeling slightly unwell, Sirius nodded. Mr. Ollivander smiled even more deeply. From a shelf to the right of Sirius, Mr. Ollivander took four silver boxes. "Try these," he said.

Feeling as though his entire future depended on it, Sirius picked up one of the wands.

"Ah, nope," Mr. Ollivander said, snatching it out of Sirius's hand. "Here's another." He offered him a slightly shorter wand. Sirius barely even touched it before he was offered another, and then another.

After the tenth trial, Sirius scowled and said, "What exactly are you looking for, sir?" Mr. Ollivander smiled in a bemused way. "I will be right back," he said.

True to his word, he was back moments later. This time, however, the box of his wand was not silver, but gold. Watching Sirius intently, the old wandmaker handed Sirius the box. "Go on," he said softly.

Sighing, Sirius uncovered the wand inside and picked it up. Immediately, the air grew warm and gold and ruby colored swirls came from the tip of the wand. Sirius yelped and almost dropped it in surprise.

"What was that?!" he cried.

Mr. Ollivander smiled. "That," he said, "Is the right wand for you."

As Sirius paid for his wand, Mr. Ollivander leaned over his desk. Smiling, he said, "You may think you don't fit in, but you do, Mr. Black."

Bewildered, Sirius stared at him. "You will see, Mr. Black. There's a bright star in every skyscape, it seems," Mr. Ollivander said softly. "You surely proved me wrong."

"Huh?" Sirius asked.

"You will see, Mr. Black," the wandmaker repeated. "Have a good year at Hogwarts," and he disappeared behind some shelves.

Shaking his head, Sirius exited the store with his purchase. What a weird old man. Never mind that, he thought, and put the episode in the back of his mind. "Owls!" he exclaimed gleefully, eliciting sidelong glances from a few tottering old grandwitches.

The smell of Eyelop's Owl Emporium was close to unbearable, but Sirius barely noticed. He was so elated at the prospect of purchasing a new owl that he did not notice the large orange, poisonous-looking turd he had stepped in by the entrance.

Sirius looked at every owl, inspecting every beak, wing, talon. As he bent over to look at a purple-tinted Great Horned Owl, a sharp hoot caught his attention. Actually, it sounded nothing like what a normal owl's hoot was supposed to sound like. It sounded like a cross between the mating call of a pelican and the barking of a self-righteous canine.

Sirius rushed over to the source of the sound immediately. The sounds were coming from a dark colored hawk owl, it seemed. Sirius poked his finger through the bars of the cage. It barked and hopped over to Sirius's finger, nuzzling its beak against his flesh.

"You bought a dog?!" his mother cried an hour later.

"No, no," Sirius explained quickly. "It's a hawk owl. I just named it Dog because it sounds as though it's barking."

His mother made a face, but could think of nothing else to say. It was his present after all. "Did you get everything else?" she asked sourly. Sirius nodded.

"Is everyone else ready?" she called out to the gathering of relatives and Snapes behind her. There was a chorus of agreement.

A few hours later, Sirius lay on his bed stroking Dog and twirling his wand around. It emitted golden sparks, and Sirius was amusing himself by tracing obscene words in the air and watching as the words slowly faded away.

There was a knock on his door, and Sirius quickly tried to fan the most recent word out of the air. "Yes?" he said, recomposing himself to look innocent.

Regulus entered his room. "Hey," he said timidly.

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked with concern. He sat up and beckoned Regulus to sit on his bed with him. The young boy obliged.

Regulus shrugged. There was a hint of tears in his eyes. "You're going to leave tomorrow," he squeaked, despite his valiant attempt to force his words into a crisp and clear statement.

"Aw, Reg," Sirius said, punching his brother lightly on the arm. "You know that if you ever need me, I'm just an owl away." Regulus just nodded, his lip quivering, as if he didn't trust himself to speak. "And I'll send you updates every week. I'll write to you all the crazy shi– er, stuff I do, okay?" Regulus nodded again. Without a warning, Regulus threw his arms around his brother. "I'll miss you," he blubbered. Surprised, Sirius just patted his brother's head, shooting glances at the door. If his mother or father chose to come in now…

Oh, what could they do? Sirius thought. Throwing caution to the winds, he hugged his brother back. They sat there, well into the night, until Regulus finally fell asleep. As Sirius carried him back to his room, he felt a sadness in his chest that he had not expected. Maybe he'll miss something about this place after all.