The sun is setting, filling the room with smudges of gold and flecks of primrose and amber light.
Light glints off the solid silver nib of the elegant peacock quill, as it scrawls elegantly across soft parchment.
The light catches on the wet ink, and it glistens in smears of black, like liquid obsidian.
Grey eyes shine - storm clouds heavy with rain.
The room is silent, but for the soft hoot of an owl, and the near silent breathing of the sole occupant of the room.
Rain drips down over the windowpane, sparkling like a thousand diamonds, casting warped rainbow shadows about the bedroom like a kaleidoscope.
And he writes on.
Passion is almost tangible as he sets his soul down in parchment and ink, the black swirls becoming words and thoughts, tiny gems of hope and wisdom scribed in jet black.
The pen moves fluidly, the words released from deep in his heart – bared to the world at last.
My Dear Brother, Regulus.
I know that I'm probably the last person in the world that you'd want to be writing to you – but there are several things I feel I need to explain, if you'd but give me a moment.
Firstly, I am so, so sorry Regulus. I am deeply aware that those three words are never going to be enough – they will never repair what I have broken. But it's a start. And for some reason, even though they are often uttered without a care; when you really mean it with all your heart, those three words are the hardest to say. I am sorry.
I am sorry for abandoning you.
I am sorry for leaving you behind.
I am sorry for the part I have played in forcing you to take weary step after weary step down the path you have chosen for yourself.
Most of all, Reggie, I am sorry for making you love me.
I know our family isn't really the loving sort of family. Blacks thrive on Slytherin impulses. Survival of the fittest. Holding your own interests highest in value. Keeping your heart as cold and guarded as the Ice Fortresses of the Arctic Prince. I am sorry for what I have put you through. If I hadn't loved you, if I hadn't made you love me back – then I am sure your suffering would be greatly reduced. If I could take back all those long childhood summers, where we would play together – all thoughts of Gryffindor and Slytherin left to the years to come - then I would. In a heartbeat. I would sacrifice all those memories which I value above all else, just to see your suffering end.
Ah, Regulus. I know you must feel that I chose James over you, when I went to live with him, but that is not true. Not at all. I simply chose freedom. And I regret it, more than anything. I flew free of that cage, and left you to the snake pit. I left you behind. And I hate myself for it.
I couldnt have stayed though. As much as I wish I was stronger, as much as I wish I could have sacrificed everything for you... I couldnt bear it any more! My family, they were supposed to love me! Thats why I was sorted in Gryffindor. Not because I wanted to rebel. Not for attention. Because my capacity for love is unsatisfied by a simple nod once a year when I dont fail my exams.
I'm not sure what else I can say.
I'm not sure of what else I can do to try and make things better.
I'm not really sure of anything anymore.
But I'm not writing for sympathy, and this isn't a plea for forgiveness. This is an apology, a declaration of love I suppose. You are my brother, Regulus. You will always be my brother, whether I am disowned, whether you hate me for the rest of your life, whether or not we both survive this war. No matter what happens, I will always love you – I swear it. And if you believe nothing else I have written, I beg of you – believe me in that.
Reggie, my little brother Reggie, I look back, and it seems like forever since I last held you close. It seems like forever since you looked at me with adoration in your eyes. Now all that's left is ice cold disdain.
I don't blame you.
I don't hate you.
All I ask is that you give me this chance – please, be the better person.
Don't abandon me as I abandoned you.
I miss you.
I wish I never left.
I should have endured a hundred summers of torturous days and sleepless nights – just to see you smile at me again.
I hope you write back. I'm not expecting you to, and I completely understand if you burn this without even reading what I've written.
But I'll love you anyway.
Your Brother,
For Always,
Sirius Orion Black
The parchment is gripped tightly in shaking hands.
The black characters, as flowing as a music manuscript, are blurred and spotted, their proclamation of apology disrupted and smeared by teardrops that glitter in the candlelight.
The moonlight streams in through the iron framed window, casting the richly furnished room in a silvery glow.
Grey eyes close, as though in pain, and black hair swings forwards, shining like water on a ravens back, guarding his soul from the world.
A sudden rush of activity, and the door swings shut, and the room is left empty and silent, but for the echo of a stifled sob, and the piece of crumpled parchment drifting slowly to the ground, slowly curling in on itself as though in shame.
The burning embers glow softly, until all that's left of his love is a smear of ash, glinting like spilt ink and despair on the carpet.
An owl hoots softly nearby, and the moon sets, the sun rises, and time moves on, leaving that night far behind in the haze of memory.
