Regulus remembers summers in Brindisi with his family, when they were all young and fresh-faced and there was no hate to tear them apart.
He remembers beaches with sand so white you had to look at the sky, powder-blue in all directions. The color of innocence and warm pressure of his brother's hand in his, pulling him to the water. Away from the blue, blue sky.
He remembers lying on his stomach in bed with Sirius pressed up beside him under the coverlet in the sticky-sweet summer air. Pointing out the window – look see, I'm the bright one—see it?—and watching as one by one the stars come out.
Regulus remembers, and aches for what has been lost.